ung a dead weight in the arms of Dyke Darrel--murdered by the
hand of a brutal assassin.

No wonder the bruised and almost helpless man-hunter groaned with
inward anguish at the sight.

He fell no easy prey into the hands of his enemies, however.

Staggering backward, and easing his bleeding relative to the ground,
he turned with a mad cry and dashed at the throat of Professor
Darlington Ruggles.

Both men staggered across the floor against the stairs.

"I will strangle you for this," hissed the enraged detective.

"Help!" gasped Ruggles.

Brower came to his assistance with a vengeance, and rained terrific
blows upon the head of Dyke Darrel with the butt of his revolver. Soon
the mad grip relaxed from the throat of Ruggles, and Dyke Darrel sank
a bleeding and insensible mass to the floor.

Panting and gasping, Professor Ruggles leaned against the stairs and
gazed about him in the gloom.

The lamp had been overturned in the struggle, and at the last,
darkness reigned supreme.

"I've fixed him, Professor," growled Nick Brower, in a savage
undertone.

"I hope so, the devil. He went for me with the venom of a tiger. Have
you a match?"

"Yes."

"Let's have a light. I'm afraid you have done a miserable job, Nick."

Inside of five minutes the overturned lamp was recovered and burning
once more. Its rays revealed a ghastly scene. Two forms lay on the
floor, Dyke Darrel and Nell, both apparently dead.

Nick's companion, who had screamed so lustily at the fire from Nell
Darrel's derringer, still leaned against the stairs seeming little the
worse for wear.

"Mike, where are you hit?"

"Don't know. I FELT the bullet goin' through my brains."

A brief examination showed that the man had only been grazed by the
shot from the girl's pistol. When this discovery was made Professor
Ruggles became very angry.

"You made more fuss than a man shot through the neck ought to. The
girl has been killed in consequence. Hades! this has been a bad
evening's work. I would rather have lost a thousand dollars than had
Nell Darrel slain."

"She wan't wuth no sich money," growled Brower.

"How do you know what she was worth, you miserable brute?" snarled the
Professor, in an angry voice. "I take it, that I know more about it
than you do."

"See here, boss, aren't you goin' on a bin run for nothin'? Whar'd you
be now if I hadn't gin Dyke Darrel his quietus? Mebbe you'd better
thank instead of curse your friend."

There w