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

  CHAPTER III.

  PROFESSOR DARLINGTON RUGGLES.

  It would be hard to find a more completely astounded person than theone calling himself Watson Wilks at that moment.

  The noted detective had outwitted him completely.

  It was humiliating, to say the least.

  "This is an outrage!" at length the young villain found voice toutter. "I will call on the police for assistance if you do not at onceremove these bracelets."

  "Do so if you like," answered Dyke Darrel, coolly; so icily in fact asto deter the young man from carrying out his threat. It might be thatthe detective would delight in turning him over to the Chicago police,a consummation that the fellow dreaded more than aught else.

  "Come with me, and make no trouble. You will do so, if you know whenyou are well off," said Dyke Darrel significantly.

  And Wilks walked along peacefully, allowing the sleeves of his coat tohide the handcuffs. After going a few blocks, the detective hailed ahack, and pushing his prisoner before him, entered and ordered thedriver to make all speed for the Union depot.

  "What does this mean?" demanded the prisoner, with assumedindignation.

  "It means that you will take a trip South for your health, my friend."

  "To St. Louis?"

  "You have guessed it, Skidway."

  A troubled look touched the face of the escaped prisoner.

  "Why do you call me by that name, Dyke Darrel?"

  "Because that IS your name. You have five years unexpired term yet toserve in the Missouri penitentiary, and I conceive it my duty to seethat you keep the contract."

  "A contract necessarily requires two parties. I never agreed to servethe State."

  "Well, we won't argue the point."

  "But I am in the employ of the railroad company, and will lose myplace---"

  "You gain another one, so it doesn't matter," retorted the detective."No use making a fuss, Mr. Skidway; you cannot evade the punishmentwhich awaits you. Any confession you choose to make I am willing tohear. The late tragedy, for instance?"

  "You'll get nothing out of me."

  "I am sorry,"

  "Of course you are. Did you recognize me when we first met?"

  "No. It was an afterthought."

  "I thought so. You shall suffer for this. You've got the wrong man,Mr. Darrel."

  "You seem to know me."

  "Everybody does."

  "You flatter me."

  "My name isn't Skidway, but Wilks, and I can prove it."

  "Do so."

  "Release me and I will."

  "I'm not that green."

  The prisoner muttered angrily. He realized that he was fairly caught,and that it was too late now to think of deceiving the famousdetective.

  Dyke Darrel had recognized in the young man calling himself WatsonWilks an old offender, who had made his escape from the Missouri Stateprison three months before, and he at once surmised that the youngcounterfeiter, who was a hard case, might have had a hand in themurder and robbery of the express messenger. Reasoning thus, thedetective decided upon promptly arresting the fellow before proceedingto search further. It would be safer to have Skidway in prison than atlarge in any event.

  More than one pair of eyes had watched the departure of Dyke Darreland his prisoner from Chicago, and a little later a bearded man, withdeep-set, twinkling eyes, and the general look of a hard pet, thrusthis head into Madge Scarlet's little room, and said:

  "It are all up with the kid, Mrs. Scarlet."

  "What's that you say?"

  The woman came to her feet and confronted the new-comer with aninterested look.

  "It's all up with the kid."

  "Come in, Nick Brower, and let me have a look at your face. I want nolies now," cried the woman sharply; and the man drew himself into alittle room, and stood regarding the female with a grin.

  "Now let me hear what you've got to tell," demanded Mrs. Scarlet.

  "It's ther kid--"

  "Watson?"

  "Yesum."

  "Well, what has happened to him, man? Can't you speak?"

  "He's took."

  "Took?"

  "Nabbed. Got the darbies on and gone South a wisitin'."

  "Do you mean to say that Watson has been arrested?"

  "I do, mam," grunted Brower. "He's well out of town, goin' South, andI reckin he'll be in Jeffe'son City before we hear from him agin. Iseed him a-goin' with my own eyes."

  "How did it happen?"

  The man explained how young Skidway had been seized and taken on boardthe train by Dyke Darrel.

  "You are sure his captor was Dyke Darrel?"

  "I ain't blind, I reckon," growled the man. "I heard sufficient totell me that the detective was takin' the kid back to Missoury, andthat was enough for me."

  "Why did you permit it?"

  A laugh answered the woman.

  "You might have saved the boy," pursued Mrs. Scarlet, angrily. "Now hewill spend another five years in the dungeon where my poor man died ofa broken heart. Watson told me that the infamous Dyke Darrel was inChicago; but I had no thought of his recognizing the boy. Can you lendme some money, Nick?"

  "A purty question, Madge. Don't you know I'm always dead-broke?"growled Brower. "What in the nation do you want with money any how?"

  "I'm going to St. Louis."

  "No?"

  "I am. If Dyke Darrel puts my boy behind prison bars again, I willhave no mercy. It's life for life. I am tired of living, and amwilling to die to revenge myself on that miserable detective."

  Mrs. Scarlet began pacing the room. She was deeply moved, and tears ofanger and sorrow glittered in her eyes. She was about to utter afierce tirade against the detective, when a step sounded without,followed immediately by three raps on the door.

  "Whist!" exclaimed Brower. "It is the Professor."

  Madge Scarlet crossed the floor and admitted a visitor, a tall manwith fire-red hair and beard, who was well clad and wore blue glasses.A plug hat, rather the worse for wear, was lifted and caressedtenderly with one arm as the gentleman bowed before Mrs. Scarlet.

  "I am pleased to find you at home, Mrs. Scarlet."

  "I seldom go out, Mr. Ruggles, or Professor Darlington Ruggles, Isuppose."

  "Never mind the handle, madam. I see you have company." The Professorturned a keen glance on Nick Brower as he spoke.