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It was a smothered cry that reached the girl's ears, and quite startled her. The sound came from the next apartment. For a minute Nell Darrel hesitated. She reasoned that she had nothing to fear from the hag who kept the place, and one who was in need of help certainly could not be a friend to Mrs. Scarlet, or those who profited by the old woman's villainy. "Help!"
If not dead, Dyke Darrel believed she had met with a far worse fate, and it was this thought that nerved him to think of doing desperate work should the cruel abductor ever come before him. Madge Scarlet was dismissed after an examination, but Nick Brower and his companion were held to await the action of a higher court.
Dyke Darrel lifted the lapel of his coat, exposing a silver star. "All right," returned Mr. Wilks, with a nod. "I'm of the opinion that Skinny Joe's about the customer you need to look after, captain. I'll go down with you to the fellow's old haunts, and we'll see what we can find." Mr. Wilks seemed tremendously interested.
"Only God is wise enough to finish it," said the young man. "'Well, God help us; 'tis a world to see," Darrel quoted, waving his hand. "If thy heart oppress thee, steer for the Blessed Isles." Robin's Inn A big maple sheltered the house of the widow Vaughn.
The account by Bee, of which this is an abstract, I have not seen. Alse Gooderidge was put through many examinations and finally died in prison. "She should have been executed, but that her spirit killed her in prison." John Darrel was one of those who sought to help the boy who had been bewitched by Alice. Darrel, however, receives only passing mention from the author of this pamphlet.
"It is possible that you may get your freedom at an early day," said the detective. "I have heard of men turning State's evidence, and profiting by it." "I suppose so." "I would advise you to think on this, Martin Skidway." "Why should I think on it? Do you think I'm a fool, Dyke Darrel?" "Not quite," and the detective smiled.
"But not like those in thy cheeks, dear child. Where is the good mother?" said Darrel. "She and the boys are gone a-berrying, and I have been making jelly. We're going to have a party to-night for your birthday." "'An' rise up before the hoary head an' honour the face o' the old man," said Darrel, thoughtfully. "But, child, honour is not for them that tinker clocks."
Nicholson was my friend, and a good one. He helped me once, when to do so was of great inconvenience to himself. It is my duty to see that his cowardly assassins are brought to justice." Even as Dyke Darrel uttered the last words a man ran up to the steps and opened the front door. "I hope I don't intrude," he said, as he put his face into the room.
The train that had left four hours earlier was almost as fast as the one taken by the detective, so that if no accident happened to the earlier train, there could be little hope of running down his prey before New York was reached. Nevertheless, Dyke Darrel preserved a hopeful heart, in spite of the terrible anxiety that oppressed him.
"You are too well known by the crooks of this city to move about without disguise." "I will fix that. I will meet you again in an hour." And then Dyke Darrel hurried away. It was almost dark when two men, one old and gray, with a hump on his shoulder, called at a dingy old brick on Clark street and rapped on a narrow door that opened into an alley. No answer was vouchsafed.
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