It was Harper Elliston.
"I thought you were in Chicago," pursued the mystified Dyke. And then
he remembered the face he had seen at the window of the cabin in Black
Hollow the previous night. The memory brought a harsh expression to
his countenance.
"Ah, you are still here, Dyke."
Mr. Elliston smiled and held out his hand.
"I don't understand this," said Dyke Darrel. "You have deceived me in
some way, Harper. You were in Black Hollow last night."
"There you are mistaken," assured Mr. Elliston; "I stopped off here on
the noon train."
"You did not go to Chicago, then?"
"Yes, I did; but only remained an hour. You see the man I was looking
for was not there, but had gone to Burlington, Iowa, and so,
remembering that you stopped off here yesterday, I thought I would run
down and learn if you had made any discovery."
"You came at noon?"
"Yes."
"Why did not you call for me at Bragg's?"
"Are you stopping there?"
"Certainly. If you had inquired for me of the agent here, you would
have certainly found me."
"That's exactly what I did do, and I did not find you; so now," and
Mr. Elliston laughed at the perplexed look on the detective's face.
The actions and words of this man were indeed a puzzle to Dyke Darrel.
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