Dyke Darrel the Railroad Detective Part 37

With feverish blood the scheming villain sat by the window and watched the fleeting landscape by the light of the moon. The score of miles that intervened between the station seemed like a hundred to the anxious man who sat and glared at the trees and hills without.

He was in extreme doubt as to his ability to cope with the cunning hag who had ventured so many miles to thwart him, and indulge her own morbid desire for revenge.

At length the whistle sounded announcing the station.

As the train bolted beside another train, bound in the opposite direction, Ruggles glanced into the car not ten feet distant, to make a startling discovery.

He looked squarely into the face of d.y.k.e Darrel, the railroad detective!

Turning his head, the Professor sat quiet. The other train was moving, and Ruggles felt paralyzed at his discovery. Perhaps the detective had not noticed him. He could not understand how the detective had escaped death from the beating he had received in the bas.e.m.e.nt of that building of sin on Clark street.

His own train was moving now, and if he would get off he must be quick about it.

Springing from his seat, he hastened down the aisle.

At the open door he met d.y.k.e Darrel face to face! The recognition was mutual.

The train was moving rapidly out of the station. Soon it would be going at full speed.

Professor Ruggles had two incentives for leaving the train now--one to escape the detective, the other to find Nell and Madge Scarlet.

At first he thought of das.h.i.+ng upon d.y.k.e Darrel and risking all in a swift rush. Second thought, induced by the gleam of a six-shooter in the hand of his enemy, concluded the Professor to seek another course.

Turning, he dashed down the length of the car, with Darrel in hot pursuit.

"Halt, or I fire!"

But the detective's cry had no effect.

The half-sleeping pa.s.sengers were roused by the wonderful movements of the two men.

"Madmen!"

"What IS the trouble?"

Such were the exclamations, as doors slammed, and the two men swept into the next car. From coach to coach sped the pursued and the pursuer. It was a flight for life, on the part of Professor Ruggles.

His plug hat flew off in the chase, and a brakeman who confronted him in the aisle was knocked flat with terrific force.

"Murder!"

And then both men disappeared from the rear platform.

d.y.k.e Darrel believed he had his man in a corner, when he saw him dash through the door at the rear of the long train.

Not so, however.

The desperate Ruggles was ready to do anything rather than come in contact with his relentless foe. He bounded clear of the train, landing in a soft bit of sand, sinking almost to his knees, without harming him in the least.

The detective did not hesitate to follow, but he made a miscalculation, owing to his bodily weakness, and instead of landing on his feet, he came down with stunning force across one of the rails.

d.y.k.e Darrel lay insensible, like one dead.

Had his enemy come upon him then he might have finished the career of the daring man-hunter, without the least danger to himself. For once, Professor Ruggles missed it woefully.

As the detective was ten yards behind the Professor, and the car was going at good speed, there was quite twenty rods difference between the two men when they landed. d.y.k.e Darrel was completely hidden from the sight of Ruggles by a clump of trees.

Ruggles gazed up the track, but saw nothing of his pursuer. He surmised that d.y.k.e Darrel did not leap from the train, but it was likely he would ring the bell and stop the cars at once, so that it would not do to for him to remain in the vicinity unless he wished to collide with the detective.

Another supposition also came to the brain of the villain, preventing his search along the track. If d.y.k.e Darrel had leaped after him, what more natural than his hiding in the clump of timber for the purpose of pouncing upon him when he came up the road.

"I'll not risk it," muttered Ruggles. "I've other fish to fry just now than looking after detectives. I must find that hag, Madge Scarlet, and get my hands once more on Nell Darrel."

Then Mr. Ruggles turned his steps in the direction of the station.

Already daylight was dawning, and Professor Ruggles was almost beside himself with anxiety. He cursed the woman who had made it necessary for him to leave the train so many miles outside of Gotham. Such a change in the programme might result fatally to himself. d.y.k.e Darrel was hot on the trail now, and it would require the best efforts of a desperate man to throw him off the scent.

The man with the sunset hair was desperate enough. With hurried steps he made his way to the depot. The agent was just shutting up.

"No train, save a way-freight, will be along till night," he said, in answer to a question from the gentleman with the red locks. Ruggles had taken the precaution to provide himself with a cap from his satchel before presenting himself to the man on duty at the depot.

"One question," said Ruggles, as the man was about to walk away.

"Well?"

"Did any pa.s.sengers get off here some hours since from the New York train east?"

"No."

"Are you sure?"

"None came into the depot, at any rate," said the man.

"Any pa.s.sengers get on?"

"Several."

"Among them an old woman?"

"I saw no woman."

"You are sure?"

"Of course I am."

Ruggles was disappointed. Could it be possible that he had been led on a fool's errand after all, and that Madge Scarlet, with her prize, had been concealed on the train, and continued on to New York? The thought was intolerable.

In the meantime, how fared it with d.y.k.e Darrel, who lay stunned and bleeding across the railroad track.

It was almost sun-up before he opened his eyes and groaned. His bed was a hard one, and it seemed as though every bone in his body was broken. The fact was, he was yet sore from his serious fall through the trap into the bas.e.m.e.nt on Clark street, consequently it is little wonder he was badly demoralized, both in mind and body, at his last mishap.