Dyke Darrel the Railroad Detective Part 44

Ten days had d.y.k.e Darrel and his friend Bernard searched the city of New York ere they found their prey. Once found, the detective resolved upon a novel manner of procedure for his capture. The sending of the letter was part of the scheme. Had this failed, then a bolder move would have been made.

But it did not fail.

When Mr. Elliston rapped at room 14, number 388 Blank street, the door was opened, admitting the visitor to a small room containing a bed, a few necessary articles of furniture, and a curtained alcove.

The door was suddenly closed and locked behind Elliston, light was turned on fully, and then the visitor found himself confronted by Harry Bernard, whom he had met once or twice in Woodburg, many months before.

"Eh!" e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed Elliston. "So you are the man who wrote that note requesting an interview? Well, I am glad to see you, Mr. Bernard," and Elliston held out his hand, with a smile wreathing his thin lips.

"I imagined you would be," returned the youth. "I am glad to see you so well. Fact is, you are badly wanted out in Illinois at the present time."

"I am sorry that I cannot accommodate my friends out there," returned Elliston, with a frown; "but it is wholly out of the question. I think I will bid you good evening, Mr. Bernard. I cannot waste precious time here."

He turned and grasped the door-k.n.o.b. It did not yield to his touch.

"Not just yet, Mr. Elliston," said Harry. "I wish to ask you a few questions."

"Well?"

"What do you know of the murder of Arnold Nicholson on the midnight express, south of Chicago, some weeks ago?"

"I read of it, of course."

Mr. Elliston pulled nervously at his glove as he answered.

"What do you know of the disappearance of Captain Osborne and the death of his daughter?" persisted Bernard.

"Do you suppose I have nothing to do but answer such nonsensical questions?" demanded Elliston, angrily. "Open this door and let me pa.s.s out."

"Not yet. I wish to tell you a little story, Mr. Elliston."

"I haven't time to listen."

"Nevertheless, you must take the time," said Harry Bernard, sternly.

"Don't attempt to make trouble, sir; you will get the worst of it if you do."

There was a glitter in the eyes of the speaker that was not pleasant to see.

Mr. Elliston sank to a chair, and with an air of resignation said:

"Well, well, this is impudent, but I will listen if it will gratify you."

"It certainly will. I wish to start out with the a.s.sertion that you DO know something about the crime on the midnight express, and I will try and convince you that _I_ know what part you acted in the murder of one of the best men in the service of the express company. Don't lose your temper, sir, but listen?"

"I am listening."

There was a sullen echo in the man's voice that boded an outburst soon.

"A gentleman of your build and complexion boarded the train at a station just south of Chicago one night in April. At another station two companions joined this man, according to previous agreement. One was almost a boy in years, an escaped convict; and these three men during the night entered the express car, murdered the agent, and went through the safe. Just before reaching Black Hollow the three men left the car. One of the three was tall and had red hair and beard. This man, after the slaughter, left a trace behind that has led to his ident.i.ty. He left the imprint of a b.l.o.o.d.y hand on a white handkerchief that he took from the pocket of his victim. That handkerchief was afterward found, and the b.l.o.o.d.y mark compared with the hand of the a.s.sa.s.sin."

"That could hardly be possible. Hands are many of them alike,"

articulated Mr. Elliston, nervously.

"True, but in this case a wart, of peculiar shape, gave the man away.

The mark of his b.l.o.o.d.y hand, leaving the wart's impress, was not only on the handkerchief, but left against the white s.h.i.+rt-front of the murdered man as well. The man who committed the murder read of the clew in a Chicago paper, and, to obliterate the tell-tale evidence, he cut the wart from his hand and dropped it under the seat while journeying through Iowa in disguise, on an emigrant train."

The face of Elliston had become white as death, and he trembled from head to foot. If Bernard had doubted before, he doubted now no longer.

"A nice story," finally sneered Bernard's visitor. "When did you learn so much?"

"Weeks ago--"

"And you have permitted this villain to run at large so long!"

"Well, I propose to see that he does not flaunt his crimes in the face of the world longer."

Then, with a quick movement, the youth drew a vial from his pocket and held it up to view, exhibiting to the dilating eyes of the New Yorker a large wart with a double top.

"Just remove the glove from your right hand, Mr. Elliston. I think we will find a scar there that this wart will fit--"

"Furies! this is too much," cried Elliston, coming to his feet, white with rage and fear.

"Stop. Keep your temper," warned Bernard. "I wish to bring a witness; one that has been your companion in crime."

The curtain over the alcove was brushed aside, and a man stepped forth, a man with red whiskers and hair, the latter surmounted with a glossy plug hat.

Elliston stared like one bereft of sense and life.

"Allow me to introduce Professor Darlington Ruggles, Mr. Elliston,"

uttered Harry Bernard in a mocking voice.

"Hades! what does this mean?" and the trapped villain staggered, clutching the back of a chair for support.

"It means that your race of crime and diabolism is run, Harper Elliston!"

Red hair and beard were suddenly swept aside, a revolver was thrust into the startled countenance of Elliston; he looked, and could only utter:

"d.y.k.e DARREL, THE DETECTIVE!"

"Do you deny your guilt, scoundrel?"

But Harper Elliston sank to a seat, and bowed his head, while drops of cold sweat covered his forehead.

The touch of cold steel and click of closing bracelets roused him.

He was helpless now, for his wrists were encircled by handcuffs. Black despair confronted the villain.

d.y.k.e Darrel went through the pockets of his prisoner and found a revolver, an ugly looking clasp knife, and other articles of a nature that served to show that the owner was not pursuing an honest calling.