"
"Well, we'll see about it. I flatter myself that I'm sharper than any
detective that ever lived."
Then, adjusting his glasses, the sunset-haired Professor left his seat
and walked down the aisle to the door. He came hurrying back with an
interested, perhaps anxious look on his countenance.
"Now's your time, Sam," whispered Professor Ruggles; "the fellow's on
the platform smoking!"
This was fully two hours after the thickset man first stepped upon the
train. He at once came to his feet, and sauntered in a careless manner
to the door. The night was not dark, and the man could plainly see a
dark form leaning against the end of the opposite car, a bright red
gleam showing the end of his cigar.
It was indeed Dyke Darrel, who had come out upon the platform to cool
his heated brow and reflect on the situation, while he smoked a cigar
for its soothing influence.
He could not drive the thought of Harry Bernard and the train robbery
from his mind. He remembered that the young man had left Woodburg
suddenly the fall before, and nothing had been seen or heard from him
by his friends since, until Dyke's meeting him so strangely in St.
Louis. It was barely possible that the assault and the rescue by young
Bernard were part of a deep-laid plot.
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