"
"Well?"
"Arnold Nicholson."
"What?"
"That is the name on this bit of linen, which shows that it was once
the property of the murdered express messenger. Of course you have
heard of the crime on the Central?"
"Yes. It gave me a shock, too. Arnold was a good fellow."
Harry Bernard's face wore a serious look as he took the blood-stained
handkerchief from the hand of the detective, and examined it with
mournful interest.
"It must be that you were assaulted by one of the train robbers,
Dyke," said the youth, as he returned the relic of that midnight
crime.
"I imagine so. The scoundrels have discovered that I am on the trail,
and they mean to put me out on the first base, if possible. Did you
see the man's face who assaulted me, Harry?"
"Imperfectly. I know, however, that he had red hair."
"Ah!"
"You suspected as much?"
"Yes. In the dead man's fingers was a bit of red hair. It seems
conclusive that the villain who assaulted me to-night was the one who
engaged in the death struggle with poor Nicholson. The trail is
becoming plain, and before the National holiday rolls round I hope to
have the perpetrator of this crime behind prison bars."
"I hope you are not over-sanguine, Dyke.
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