CHAPTER IV.
SCALPED.
"The gentleman is a friend," said Mrs. Scarlet. "You need not fear tospeak before him."
"I hain't no wish to hear any private talk," said Nick Brower, andwith that he cast a keen, knowing look into the visitor's face, andpassed from the room.
"We're alone, Professor."
"So it seems."
"What news do you bring?"
"Have you heard of the midnight express robbery?"
"I have."
"And that Dyke Darrel is on the trail?"
"I have heard all that, and more," said the woman. "My nephew has beenarrested and taken to Missouri by this same infamous Dyke Darrel. Itwas an awful blow to me; it leaves me entirely alone in the world. Iam ready to do anything to compass the ruin of the detective whobrought me to this."
"I am glad to hear you say it, madam. I came here for advice and help.I assure you that it is highly necessary for all of us that DykeDarrel be removed."
"Well?"
"He might be enticed here, and quietly disposed of."
"Will you entice him?"
"I might; but---"
"Well?" as the man hesitated.
"You see, I've got a place to fill in the world, and don't want to mixwith anything that's unlawful," and the Professor stroked his redbeard in a solemn manner.
"Yet you would be glad to see Dyke Darrel dead?"
"Hush, woman! Walls have ears. You are imprudent. I have nothingagainst Mr. Darrel in particular, only he has injured my friends, andmay be up to more of his tricks. Now, as regards Watson Wilks, you sayDyke Darrel has gone to Missouri with the boy in charge?"
"Yes. The last friend I had in the world has been torn from me, tolanguish in prison. I will have the detective's heart's blood forthis," cried the woman, with passionate vehemence.
"Of course," agreed the Professor. "But of what crime was the youngman accused? Not the one on the midnight express, I hope?" The tallvisitor bent eagerly forward then, and penetrated the woman with akeen gaze.
"No, no," was the quick reply. "I know that Martin had no hand inthat."
"Martin?"
"Watson, I mean," corrected Mrs. Scarlet. "I sometimes call the boyMartin, which is his middle name, so he has a right to it."
"Exactly. You KNOW that the boy had nothing to do with the robberylast night. I don't wish to argue or dispute with a lady, but I shallbe compelled to question HOW you know so much. Will you answer?"
"Because--because Martin is incapable of such work. I have read allabout it in the papers, and am confident that it was the work of anorganized band." The Professor laughed until his white teeth gleamedin the lamplight.
"So sure!" he said. "You consider that nephew of yours a pattern ofpropriety. Is this the only reason you have for believing that WatsonWilks had no hand in the murder of Arnold Nicholson, and the riflingof the express company's safe?"
"I have another!"
"Well?"
"He was in Chicago at the time the deed was done."
"Can you prove this?"
Professor Ruggles seemed extremely eager, as he bent forward andtouched the arm of Madge Scarlet with a white forefinger.
"I can prove it."
"Very good. It may never be necessary, but if the worst comes, you maybe called on. I suppose you're not in the best of circumstances, Mrs.Scarlet?"
The Professor drew forth his wallet. "I shall suffer, now that my boyis gone."
"Don't fear that, madam," returned Darlington Ruggles, as he laid abank note for a large amount in her hand. "Providence and your friendswill take care of you. You have rendered me more than one goodservice, and I may call on you for more, soon, much sooner than youimagine."
"Anything I can do, Professor, will be gladly performed;" was thewoman's answer, as she clutched the bank note eagerly, and thrust itfrom sight.
Then Professor Ruggles turned to the door. Here he paused and facedthe woman once more.
"Madge, what charge was your nephew arrested under?"
"An old one."
"That is not an answer," and the man frowned.
"The charge is for uttering counterfeit coin. I believe the boy wasinnocent, but there was money on the other side, and Martin was sentup for ten years; my husband for fifteen. My man died of a brokenheart, being innocent, and Martin served five years and then escaped."
"I understand. I don't think the boy will ever serve out his time."
"I hope he may not, but---"
"Keep a stout heart, Mrs. Scarlet. Influences are at work to free theboy. It will not do to permit him to languish in prison. I tell youProvidence is on your side."
Then Mr. Darlington Ruggles passed from the room.
"Strange man," muttered the woman, after he had gone. "He is amystery. Sometimes I imagine he is not what he seems, but a detective.I hope I have given nothing away, for I find it won't do to trustanybody these days."
In the meantime Professor Darlington Ruggles made his way to anotherpart of the city, not far from the river, and met a man in a dingybasement room at the rear of a low doggery.
Strange place for a learned professor, was it not?
"You've kept me waiting awhile, boss."
The speaker was the man we have seen at Madge Scarlet's--Nick Browerby name.
"I couldn't get away sooner," returned the professor. "How does theland lay, Nat?"
"In an ugly quarter."
"I feared so myself. The young chap that Dyke Darrel took to Missouriknows enough to hang you---"
"And you, too, pard; don't forget that," retorted the grizzled villaingrimly.
"I forget nothing," said Mr. Ruggles, giving his plug hat a rub acrosshis left arm. "It isn't pleasant, to say the least, having mattersturn out in this way. I wish to see you in regard to this DykeDarrel." "I'm all ears, pard."
"He must never see Chicago again."
"Wal?" "I want you to see to it, Nick."
"I don't know about that," muttered the grosser villain. "I've shed'bout enough blood, I reckin."
"It is for your own safety that I speak, Nick. No trace of that lastwork can ever reach me."
"Don't be too sure, Darl Ruggles. With Dyke Darrel on the trail,there's no knowing where it'll end. He's unearthed some o' the darkestwork ever did in Chicago an' St. Louis. I WOULD breathe a durn sightmore comfortable like if Dyke Darrel was under the sod."
"So would others."
"Yourself, fur instance."
"I won't deny it, Nick. I don't feel very comfortable with the youngdetective free. Between you and me, Nick, I believe we can make thisthe last trail Dyke Darrel ever follows. A thousand dollars to the manwho takes the detective's scalp. That is worth winning, Nick."
"Put 'er thar, pard."
Nick Brower held out his huge hand and clasped the small white one ofthe Professor.
"I'll win that thousan' or go beggin' the rest o' my days, DarlRuggles."
"I hope you may. You'd best take the next train for the Southwest. Iwon't be far behind."
And then the two separated.
A little later Professor Darlington Ruggles stood on the dockoverlooking the river and the shipping. Although yet early in theseason the big lake was open, and several vessels laden with lumberhad entered the river from various ports on the Eastern shore duringthe day.
A tug lay on the further side, and a schooner with bare spars loomedup in the moonlight.
"This open sewer has witnessed more thar one crime," mused theProfessor. "I would like it if that infernal Dyke Darrel was at thebottom of the river. He has taken into his head to hunt down the menwho killed Arnold Nicholson, and if there's a man east of theMississippi who can ferret out this crime, Dyke Darrel is the one. ButI don't mean to permit him to do anything of the kind if I knowmyself. It's a fight between the detective and as sharp a man as anydetective that ever lived. I imagine--hello! who is this?"
The last exclamation was caused by the sudden appearance of a darkform coming up over the dock as i
f from the water. A moment later aman paused within six feet of Professor Ruggles, and penetrated himwith a pair of glittering eyes.
"What do you want?"
It was the Professor who uttered the word, at the same time receding astep or two, for the stranger's glance startled him considerably.
"Who are you?" demanded the stranger, shortly.
"It does not concern you."
"Don't it? We'll see about that."
An arm shot forward. The Professor's plug fell to the ground, and thenext instant a red wig was swung aloft in the moonlight.
"Ha! I thought so. You are the man I seek--"
The speaker's words were cut off suddenly.
Dyke Darrel the Railroad Detective; Or, The Crime of the Midnight Express Page 4
