CHAPTER XVI.
NELL MISSING.
The reader can imagine the indignation of the railroad detective whenhe found himself arrested by the Burlington officer.
"I beg your pardon, sir," said Dyke Darrel, "but you are making afoolish mistake. I am a detective----"
"That won't go down. If you attempt to escape I will blow out yourbrains," returned the officer, still holding his cocked weapon to thehead of Dyke Darrel.
The detective was deeply annoyed at this. On board the train were theremains of the daughter of one of Burlington's most prominentcitizens, and Dyke was extremely anxious to meet the friends andexplain the situation.
"You may take me at once to the chief of police," said Dyke Darrel, atlength. "I can explain to him, since he knows me."
Another officer approached, and the first one requested him tohandcuff his prisoner.
A hot flush of anger shot to the cheek of the detective.
"This is going too far," he said in a vexed tone. "If you attempt toput the irons on me, I'll make you trouble. I tell you I am acquaintedwith your chief, and demand that you take me to him."
"That's fair enough," said the second officer.
"But he's a dangerous character," persisted the first.
"Whom do you take me for," Dyke demanded indignantly.
"Slim Steve, the train robber."
"Where did you get your information?"
"It doesn't matter."
"You'd better go slow, officer. Look at that, and tell me what youthink of it?"
Turning back the lap of his coat Dyke Darrel revealed a glitteringsilver star, and below this a flaming eye on a dark background.
"A Pinkerton detective!" exclaimed the second officer.
"I am a detective, and know my business without receiving instructionsfrom the police of a one-horse town," retorted Dyke Darrel in anger."I am willing, however, to visit your chief, who will confirm mywords."
"We had orders from him to arrest you."
"Very good. I demand that you take me before him."
After a short consultation the two officers concluded to gratify theirprisoner, and, without attempting to handcuff him, they conducted himfrom the depot to the police station.
As luck would have it, the chief was in, and at once recognized andgreeted Dyke Darrel. Explanations soon followed.
"You must not blame my men," said the chief, "for word was sent froman interior town in Illinois stating that a notorious crook was on thetrain, and would stop at Burlington. A description was given thattallied with yours, and so the mistake was made."
"Do you know who sent the dispatch?"
"A sheriff, I think."
"Just accommodate me with the name of the town, please."
Dyke Darrel was deeply excited at this last attempt to deprive him ofhis liberty.
The officer referred to the dispatch and read the name of the placefrom whence it originated.
"Woodburg!"
Dyke Darrel uttered the name in wonder.
"I don't understand it," he said; "that is my own home, and I am toowell known there to merit suspicion. It must have been meant for apractical joke," and the detective's thoughts were turned to HarperElliston.
"It might be, of course," admitted the chief of Burlington police,"but it is a joke that I shouldn't relish, and you might make it warmfor the perpetrator. I can telegraph and inquire into it if you wish,Mr. Darrel."
"Not now. I shall be in Woodburg within a few days, and then I willfind out all about it."
Dyke Darrel repaired at once to the home of Captain Osborne, which wasoccupied by relatives of the Captain, and informed them of the sadfate that had overtaken Sibyl Osborne.
An aunt and cousin, the latter a young man of prominence, were therelatives mentioned. The cousin promised to attend the remains, afterlistening to the strange story Dyke Darrel had to tell. Sibyl had lefthome ten days before, pretending to go on a visit to friends. When sheleft it was not suspected that she was out of her mind, consequentlythe news was all the more sad.
From Burlington the railroad detective returned to Black Hollow, andfrom there he went to St. Louis to consult with Harry Bernard. Here hewas met with the announcement that his young friend had taken thetrain for Chicago some days before.
This was an annoying state of affairs indeed.
Remaining a few days in St. Louis, Dyke Darrel at length left the cityen route for Woodburg. He was anxious to meet Nell, from whom he hadbeen absent now about a fortnight.
On reaching Woodburg the detective found a telegram awaiting him fromChicago:
"Come at once. I have made an important discovery.
"H."
Of course this must be from Harry. It was dated some days before,however, which annoyed Dyke. Harry Bernard might have changed his baseof operations by this time.
"I will call at the house," mused Dyke Darrel. "I have an hour's timebefore the next Chicago train."
Aunt Jule was extremely glad to meet "Marse Dyke."
"Why didn't you bring the young missus wid yo?" questioned thenegress.
"What's that? Hope you didn't think I'd committed matrimony?" and thedetective laughed lightly, at the same time chucking Aunt Jule underher fat chin.
"Lor-a-massy, no, Marse Dyke. I meant Missy Nell," explained the blackwoman.
"Miss Nell? Isn't she at home?"
"Wal, now, what a question. In coorse she ain't. Didn' yo' send furher yo' very self? How den yo' 'spec she's goin' to be home ef yo'didn' done brung her, eh?"
All this was Greek to Dyke Darrel.
"What in the name of caution are you driving at, Aunt Jule? I haven'tseen my sister since I left home, and if she's gone to look for meshe's done a very foolish thing, for I'm not long in one place--sheought to have known better."
Aunt Jule flounced out of the room, to return soon with a yellowenvelope in her hand.
"Dere, look a-dat now. Ef yo' didn' done writ dat, den I'd like toknow who did."
The detective opened the letter his housekeeper placed in his hand,and read:
"CHICAGO, April 30, 188-.
NELL:--Come on the next train, as I wish to see you in this city. AuntJule will look after the house until your return. Don't disappoint me."DYKE."
The detective glanced at the negress after reading this note, thewriting of which very much resembled his hand.
"This came when?"
"Yesterday."
"Through the mail?"
"Yes, Marse."
A frown darkened the brow of the detective. He crumpled the letter inhis hand and began pacing the floor with nervous strides.
"Somefin must be wrong ef yo' didn' write that letter."
Suddenly Dyke Darrel turned on the speaker and touched her huge armwith a clinging hand.
"Jule, when did my sister answer this letter?" he demanded, fiercely.
"Jest the next train."
"Last night?"
"Yes, Marse Dyke."
Dropping his hand from Aunt Jule's huge arm, the detective rushed fromthe room and the house. He was laboring under great excitement, aswell he might be, for Nell was as the apple of his eye, and she hadbeen enticed to the great city for a fell purpose, he believed.
Dyke Darrel the Railroad Detective; Or, The Crime of the Midnight Express Page 16
