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

by A. Frank Pinkerton

  CHAPTER IX.

  WORDS THAT STARTLE.

  It seemed a terrible plunge into eternity. Not for one moment did thedetective lose his presence of mind, however. Straightening, hereached up and grasped the bell-cord.

  Ere many seconds the train came to a stop.

  "Man on the track," said Dyke Darrel when the conductor came hurryingto see what was the trouble.

  Lanterns were at once brought into requisition, and men went back tolook for the body of the detective's assailant.

  No one imagined that he could possibly plunge from the speeding trainand escape death. Dyke Darrel moved along confidently expecting tolook upon the bruised corpse of the outlaw who had attempted hisdestruction.

  He met with disappointment.

  No man was found.

  "He must have been a tough one to have jumped the train withoutreceiving a scratch," said a voice in the ear of the detective, as heflashed the rays of a lantern down on the track.

  Dyke Darrel glanced at the speaker, a gentleman with enormous redbeard, and rather worn silk hat.

  This was the detective's first introduction to Professor Ruggles.

  "I've no doubt of his being tough," answered Dyke Darrel.

  "How did it happen?"

  "I think the fellow intended to throw me off the train."

  "Goodness! is that so? What was the trouble about?"

  "No trouble that I am aware of. I did not know the man."

  "Then it's likely he mistook you for some one else."

  Dyke Darrel eyed the speaker keenly. There seemed to be nothingsuspicious about the Professor, however, and soon after the detectivedismissed him from his mind.

  "All aboard!" shouted the conductor, a little later, and soon thetrain was speeding northward at a rapid rate.

  Dyke Darrel went into the rear car, and sat down to meditate on hisadventure. He realized that his death had been planned by enemies tolaw and order, and he believed by the ones who were anxious to throwhim off the trail of the outlaws who perpetrated the crime on themidnight express a few nights before.

  It did not seem possible that the man who had attempted to throw himfrom the train, and had gone over himself, had escaped unharmed.

  Doubtless, though badly hurt, he had managed to drag himself away fromthe immediate vicinity of the track, where he had remained secreteduntil the brief search was over.

  Since his fall was unexpected, it was not likely that any of thevillain's friends were in the vicinity, and so it might be an easymatter to trace the outlaw. Dyke Darrel formed a plan of operation atonce, and rose to leave the train at the next stop.

  "Do you get off here?"

  Dyke Darrel was somewhat surprised to see Harper Elliston on theplatform of the little station.

  "I stop here," said Dyke. "And you?"

  "I thought of going to Chicago."

  "Postpone your trip then. I wish to consult with you on a matter ofimportance."

  The tall gentleman hesitated.

  The train began to move.

  "You must decide quickly," cried the detective.

  Elliston walked the length of the narrow platform, with his hand onthe car rail, his satchel in the other hand. His hand fell from therail, and the express swept swiftly away in the darkness.

  "Anything to accommodate, Dyke. I had some business of importance totransact in Chicago, but it can wait."

  "I am sorry if I put you to extra expense, Harper, but I wish toconsult with one whom I can trust. I've got a devilish mean work onhand," said Dyke Darrel in an explanatory tone.

  "You know I am always ready to assist you, Dyke. Is it a criminalcase?"

  "Yes; the last on record."

  "The express crime?"

  "Yes."

  "I mistrusted as much. You have been down the road?"

  "To St. Louis!"

  "Exactly."

  "I took a young offender down who escaped from prison last winter. Ithink the officers will look after him more closely in the future."

  "Who was it?"

  "Martin Skidway."

  "I don't call to mind the name, now."

  Lights in the distance showed that the village contained onepublic-house at least. So there the two men repaired.

  Mr. Elliston quaffed a glass of wine, while the detective would takenothing but a cigar. Repairing to a room, the two men sat andconversed for some time in the most confidential way.

  Dyke Darrel gave his friend an account of his adventure on the train,which had induced him to stop off and investigate.

  The reader may imagine that it was extremely indiscreet for thedetective to give away his plans to Elliston, but Dyke Darrel hadknown this man for more than a year, had visited him in New York, andfound him to be well thought of there, and he had more than onceconfided in him, to find him as true as steel.

  At this time the detective believed Elliston to be the best friend hehad in the world. He knew the New Yorker to be a man of great abilityand thoroughly acquainted with the world, and more than once he haddone a good turn for Darrel. Why then should he not trust him? Infact, Dyke Darrel had noticed the growing interest Mr. Elliston tookin his sister, and it pleased him. Looking upon him as almost abrother, it is little wonder that Dyke Darrel took the man from Gothaminto his confidence to a considerable extent.

  "I think you did the right thing in leaving the train to look afterthis villain," said Elliston, when he had heard the detective's story;"but you must be aware that you run a great risk in going about thecountry without disguise, avowedly in search of the perpetrators ofthe express robbery. Of course, this man has friends, and they willnot hesitate to shoot or stab, as they did in the case of the expressmessenger."

  "Certainly--"

  "But, my dear Dyke, had I not happened at the station you might haverun into a trap. I have reason to believe there are many lawlesscharacters in this neighborhood. It strikes me that the man knew whathe was about when he assaulted you at this point on the road."

  To this, however, Dyke Darrel did not agree. He believed that thevillain who attempted his murder sought the first favorableopportunity for his fell work, regardless of time and place.

  Early the next morning the detective and his friend hired a horse andbuggy of the hotel proprietor, and set off down the road to the sceneof the "accident."

  Dyke Darrel was confident that he could find the spot, and, sureenough, he was not far out in his reckoning. When in the vicinity ofwhere he believed the man had left the train, Darrel's quick eyecaught sight of a group of men standing under a shed, on the furtherside of a distant field.

  "There is some cause of excitement over yonder," remarked Dyke Darrel,as he drew rein, and pointed with his whip.

  "It seems to mean something," admitted Elliston.

  "I propose to investigate."

  Securing his horse, Dyke Darrel vaulted the fence, and, closelyfollowed by Elliston, made his way across the field.

  A dozen men and boys stood about, regarding some object withcommiserating glances.

  Dyke Darrel pushed his way into the crowd, and was not disappointed inwhat he saw--a man lying prostrate on some blankets, with white faceand blood-stained garments.

  "We found him jest off the railroad, in a fence-corner," said one ofthe countrymen. "He'll never git up an' walk agin."

  "Has he said anything?"

  This last question was put by Harper Elliston.

  "Nary word. He fell off 'n ther train last night, I reckon."

  Elliston knelt and felt the man's pulse.

  "He lives," said the New Yorker, "but there isn't much life; he cannotlast long."

  "A little brandy might revive him," said Dyke Darrel. "I would like tohave him speak; it is of the utmost importance."

  "Indeed it is," cried Elliston. "Where is the flask of brandy youbrought from the train, Dyke?"

  "In the buggy."

  "Send a man for it."

  "I will go myself;" and Dyke Darrel set off at a rapid walk across thefield. At the s
ame moment the man on the blanket groaned and openedhis eyes.

  "How do you feel, my man?" questioned Elliston.

  "I--I'm used up."

  "It looks so."

  Elliston bent lower.

  "You're going to die, Sam, sure's shooting," he said in a whisper atthe ear of the prostrate wretch.

  A groan was the only reply.

  "Do you hear me, Sam?"

  "Yes, I--I hear," was the faint answer.

  Placing his lips to the ear of the man, Elliston continued to whisperfor some seconds.

  Soon the detective returned with a flask of brandy, which he at onceplaced to the lips of the bruised and helpless wreck. A few sipsseemed to revive the man wonderfully.

  "Tell me your name, my man," questioned the detective, eagerly.

  "Sam Swart."

  "Do you realize your condition? You have but a few hours to live, andif you wish to free your mind, we will listen."

  Elliston stood at the man's feet, facing him with folded arms, whilethe kneeling detective addressed himself to the apparently dying man.

  "I haven't nothing to tell."

  "See here, Mr. Swart, it is better that you tell what you know. Dojustice for once, and it may be better with you in the hereafter. Youattempted to murder me last night, and I believe you had a hand in thedeath of Arnold Nicholson and the robbery of the express."

  "I--I did, but he coaxed me into it," articulated the poor wretch in ahusky voice. Elliston caught the words, and his cheek suddenlyblanched. He was outwardly calm, however.

  Dyke Darrel bent low to catch the faint words of Swart. It was evidentthat the man was rapidly sinking, and the detective was terriblyanxious to get at the truth.

  "Speak!" he cried, hoarsely, "WHO coaxed you to commit this crime?"

  "HE did. The boy and--and Nick was with--with me."

  "But who was the leader--the instigator of the foul deed?"

  Close to the swollen lips of the dying man bent the ear of DykeDarrel, every nerve on the alert to catch the faint reply.

  A name was uttered that caused Dyke Darrel to spring to his feet witha great cry.