"You have
heard of Dyke Darrel?"
"I should think I had. He is the best detective in the West, now that
Pinkerton is gone; he was a trusted friend of Allan Pinkerton, too."
"He was."
"I've telegraphed for our people to see about employing Dyke Darrel. I
shan't be content without."
Again a smile swept the face of the young detective.
"It seems that you never met Dyke Darrel, Mr. Holden."
"Never; but---"
"You see him now at any rate."
"What?"
"_I_ am Dyke Darrel."
"YOU?"
"The same."
"Dyke Darrel, the railroad detective; the fellow who captured the
brute Crogan, and broke up the counterfeiters' nest near Iron
Mountain; the man who has sent more criminals over the road than any
other detective in the wide West--YOU?"
"The same, at your service," and Darrel bowed and smiled again.
"Well, I AM astonished."
Nevertheless the incredulous railway official seemed pleased at the
last, and shook the young detective warmly by the hand.
"I am glad to meet you, Mr. Darrel, and hope we can induce you to take
up this case. A great many suspects have been reported, but I take
stock in none of them. I trust the whole affair (the management of it,
I mean) to you.
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