Dyke Darrel the Railroad Detective; Or, The Crime of the Midnight Express

by A. Frank Pinkerton

  CHAPTER XIX.

  THE DETECTIVE FOOLED.

  Two men met unexpectedly in one of the hotel corridors of the greatcity; two hands went out, and

  "How are you, Harry?"

  "How are you, Dyke, old boy?"

  "When did you leave St. Louis?"

  This from the detective.

  "Not long since. I am confident that our game is in this vicinity. Imeant to come down to Woodburg soon, and consult with you. I sent atelegram, but it brought no answer from you."

  "I wasn't at home. It was placed in my hands yesterday."

  "And that is why you are here?"

  "Not wholly."

  There was a gloomy look on the face of the detective, not natural toit, and young Bernard knew that something had gone decidedly wrongwith his detective friend.

  "It is about Nell," said Dyke Darrel, when questioned. "She came tothe city last evening, in answer to a letter purporting to come fromme. The letter was a decoy from some villain, and I fear that Nell hasmet with a terrible fate."

  A groan came at the last.

  Harry Bernard's face blanched, and he, too, seemed excited and deeplymoved. The keen eyes of Dyke Darrel noticed the young man's emotion,and he felt a suspicion growing stronger each moment.

  "Nell in the city--decoyed!" exclaimed Harry at length. "Great heaven!Dyke, this is awful!" "It is."

  Then the detective laid his hand on the young man's shoulder, andpiercing him with a stern look, said in an awful voice:

  "Harry Bernard, on your honor as a man, what do you know of thisenticing of Nell to the city?"

  "What do I know?"

  "Yes; what do you know?"

  There was a stern ring in the detective's voice, not to be mistaken.

  "I know only what you have just told me, Dyke."

  "This is the truth?"

  "Good heaven! Dyke Darrel, do you imagine that _I_ had aught to dowith enticing your sister to this wicked city? My soul! You do notunderstand the feeling that animates my heart for Nell Darrel. I hopeyou will not insult me again with a suspicion so haggard and awful."

  The hurt look resting on the face of the young amateur detective wassufficient to convince Dyke Darrel that Harry Bernard spoke the truth,and this knowledge only increased his uneasiness.

  "I am fearful some terrible ill has befallen Nell," groaned Dyke.

  "My friend," said Harry, "we must let all other matters rest until wefind the girl. I have a suspicion that may lead to something definite.Let me tell you now, that during the past year you have warmed aserpent in your bosom in the person of Harper Elliston. I have never,until now, dared make this assertion in your presence, knowing as Idid the great respect you had for the oily-tongued fellow. The timefor plain speaking has come, however."

  "I shall take no offense."

  "No! I am glad to hear you say that. Come to my room, Dyke, and I willtell you something that may open your eyes a little."

  The detective complied, and when they were seated Harry poured out hisconfidence.

  "I am glad you have been thus frank with me, Harry," said thedetective when his friend had finished. "I have heard enough of lateto convince me that Elliston is a wolf in sheep's clothing!"

  "And that is one point gained."

  "It is."

  "And I believe that it was Elliston who penned the decoy letter."

  "I am more than half convinced that such is the case," admitted DykeDarrel.

  "Have you investigated?"

  "Thoroughly, since I came into town. I learned that Nell got off atthe depot, and that she met a red-haired man, and entered a hack withhim. After that all is blank."

  "That confirms my suspicions, Dyke." "What is that?"

  "This man with the florid looks meeting Nell, and going away from thedepot in her company, Professor Ruggles, is a friend of Elliston's."

  "Indeed!"

  "It is true. I believe before another day passes, the place of thegirl's seclusion can be found. Down on Clark street is MotherScarlet's place, a played-out old hag, and she has been hand and glovewith this red-haired man for some time."

  "Mother Scarlet!" exclaimed the detective. "I have met her; she is theaunt of the Martin Skidway who is now serving out the remainder of histerm for counterfeiting."

  "The same, I suppose. I move that we visit her den, and see what wecan find."

  "Agreed. Let us go at once."

  Dyke Darrel came to his feet.

  "One moment, Dyke."

  "Well."

  "You are too well known by the crooks of this city to move aboutwithout disguise."

  "I will fix that. I will meet you again in an hour."

  And then Dyke Darrel hurried away.

  It was almost dark when two men, one old and gray, with a hump on hisshoulder, called at a dingy old brick on Clark street and rapped on anarrow door that opened into an alley.

  No answer was vouchsafed.

  Then the old man turned the knob, but the door refused to yield.

  "What's wanted, you fellers?"

  The voice came from behind the two men. Turning, they saw a stout,ill-looking fellow, with unkempt hair and beard, peering in at themfrom the street.

  "Ain't this the house where Mrs. Scarlet stops," questioned theelderly man.

  "Mebbe 'tis."

  "Where's the woman now?"

  "Bless your soul, old man, I don't know. Better call agin; she's allusin evenings," suggested the man at the edge of the street.

  "Mebbe we had," grunted the old man at the door. Then he and hiscompanion moved out of the alley. They went but a little way when theycame to a full stop, and entered into a low confab.

  A pair of keen eyes was watching them during the time, however, and alittle later the man who had addressed the two strangers walked away.He passed to the rear of the block, and made his way by a back stairsto a room on the first floor. Here he found the one he was seeking--Mrs. Scarlet--who was engaged in discussing a supper of bread andbeer.

  She was alone.

  "Eh? so you're here again, Nick? Did he send ye?"

  "The Professor?"

  "Who else should I mean?"

  "Wall, he didn't, then. I seed a couple of blokes in the alley jistnow, and they 'quired for you."

  "Why didn't you send 'em up?" and the woman laughed in a way thatrevealed her ragged teeth and unwholesome gums.

  "They'll be back soon 'nough," answered the man. "I've an idee theymean mischief. Better you go below and see 'em when they do come."

  "All right."

  About an hour after darkness had settled, while Madge Scarlet sat inthe lower room, the one in which we have so many times met her, thedoor was unceremoniously opened, and a man crossed the threshold.

  An old man he was, with bent form and white hair, a hump disfiguringhis shoulder, his trembling right hand resting on the top of a cane.

  "Good evening, mistress."

  The old man, who had closed the door sharply to behind him, sank to arickety chair as he uttered the greeting.

  "I don't know you," retorted Madge Scarlet sharply. "Haven't you gotinto the wrong house?"

  "Well, I dunno," whined the man in a sharp falsetto voice. "I reckonif you're Mistress Scarlet, you're the one I'm to see."

  "I'm not ashamed to own to the name, old man. Let's have your businessat once."

  "I'm pretty much broke up since I came out of the bastile," said theold man. "'Taint jest the place for a gentleman, I can tell you that.It's mighty down-settin' on one's pride, which I had a heap of afore Iwas sent to abide there."

  "Who are you and what are you driving at?"

  Mrs. Scarlet asked the question with a puzzled stare. She waspossessed of a very suspicious nature, and she was not ready to accepta person on outward appearance alone.

  "I'm William Sugg, from Missoury," the old man answered promptly. "Icame all the way to Shecargo to see the aunt of a friend. Mebbe you'llunderstand when I tell you, that Martin Skidway was one of the bestfriends an old man like me
had in the bastile."

  The name of her nephew opened the way to Madge Scarlet's heart atonce.

  She questioned Mr. Sugg about the young man, and he answered her withthe assurance that they had been inmates of the same prison, and thatMartin was losing flesh rapidly from melancholy.

  "It's the doings of that devil, Dyke Darrel," cried Mrs. Scarlet,losing her temper at thought of her troubles.

  "I've kind o' thought, bein' as I was in Shecargy, I'd look up aboardin' place and stay a spell. I've heerd that you have rooms torent?"

  "I have, to the right ones."

  "Will you show me some?"

  "Certainly."

  Mrs. Scarlet rose and lifted a lamp from the table.

  "Come this way."

  As the woman led the way through a back door, into another apartment,a pair of strong hands suddenly seized and held her fast, while avoice hissed in her ear:

  "Not a sound or you die!"

  It was a startling situation.

  "I am here for a purpose," said the old man, a sudden change in hisvoice. "I want you to lead me to the room in which Nell Darrel isconfined."

  The man's hands fell from the woman's shoulders, and when she turnedabout, she found that he had her covered with a revolver.

  His voice sounded familiar.

  "You're the detective, Dyke Darrel?"

  "It matters not. Show me the way to the room where you have NellDarrel imprisoned," uttered the man in a stern voice.

  The menacing revolver decided the woman. The old building had beenarranged for emergencies of this kind, as the sequel will show. Astrange glitter came to the eyes of Mrs. Scarlet as she said:

  "Who told you that Nell Darrel was in this house?"

  "It matters not. Lead the way at once, or it will be the worse foryou."

  "You dare not harm me."

  "I'll show you, if you attempt to play me false. A dozen policemenhave their eyes on this building at this moment."

  "Come on."

  The woman turned and walked forward. She passed into a hall, andhalting at a side door, unlocked it and pushed it open.

  "In there."

  "Go on. You shall keep me company."

  Mrs. Scarlet advanced, closely followed by the detective.

  The moment he crossed the threshold the door closed behind him, andthe lamp was extinguished, leaving everything in total darkness. Thenthe detective felt the floor give way, and he was precipitated to hisdoom, the last sound reaching his ears being a mocking laugh from AuntScarlet.