I am off for Europe on my wedding tour. Forget me as soon as
possible.
"H. VANDER."
"Do you think my Hubert could write anything so cruel?" she
questioned, as he handed the missive back to her.
"It doesn't seem possible," answered Dyke Darrel.
It was evident to his mind that the girl had become crazed on account
of her father's disappearance and the treachery of her lover. The
detective's heart beat sympathetically for the poor wronged girl. It
was his duty to see the girl safely on her way to the Burlington ere
he continued his search for the assassins of Arnold Nicholson. One had
already given up his account, but there were others yet to punish.
While Dyke Darrel stood debating what course to pursue, under the
remarkable change in circumstances, the mad girl uttered a sudden,
sharp cry.
"See! it is Hubert, my Hubert! come at last!"
A look of mad joy sped across the white face, as one slender arm was
extended, pointing toward the window. Dyke Barrel followed with his
eyes, and then he, too, uttered an involuntary cry.
Glued to the narrow pane was a face that was startling in the
intensity of its ghastly pallor, but it was not this that sent an
involuntary exclamation to the lips of the railroad detective.
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