ss in ten minutes, and he
wished to enter Chicago and make an examination for himself. The
detective's home was on one of the many roads crossing Illinois, and
entering the Garden City--about an hour's ride from the Gotham of the
West.

In less than two hours after reading the notice of the crime on the
midnight express. Dyke Darrel was in Chicago. He visited the body of
the murdered messenger, and made a brief examination. It was at once
evident to Darrel, that Nicholson had made a desperate fight for life,
but that he had been overpowered by a superior force.

A reward of ten thousand dollars was already offered for the detection
and punishment of the outlaws.

"Poor Arnold!" murmured Dyke Darrel, as he gazed at the bruised and
battered corpse. "I will not rest until the wicked demons who
compassed this foul work meet with punishment!"

There were still several shreds of hair between the fingers of the
dead, when Dyke Darrel made his examination, since the body had just
arrived from the scene of the murder.

The detective secured several of the hairs, believing they might help
him in his future movements. Darrel made one discovery that he did not
care to communicate to others; it was a secret that he hoped might
lead to results in the future. What the discovery was, will be
disclosed in the progress of our story.

Soon after the body of the murdered a messenger was removed to his
home, from which the funeral was to take place.

As Dyke Darrel was passing from the rooms of the undertaker, a hand
fell on his shoulder.

"You are a detective?"

Dyke Darrel looked into a smooth, boyish face, from which a pair of
brown eyes glowed.

"What is it you wish?" Darrel demanded, bluntly.

"I wish to make a confidant of somebody."

"Well, go on."

"First tell me if you are a detective."

"You may call me one."

"It's about that poor fellow you've just been interviewing," said the
young stranger. "I am Watson Wilkes, and I was on the train, in the
next car, when poor Nicholson was murdered. I was acting as brakeman
at the time. Do you wish to hear what I can tell?"

CHAPTER II.

DYKE DARREL'S TRICK.

"Certainly I do," cried the detective. "Come with me, and we will find
a place where we can talk without danger of interruption."

The two men moved swiftly down the street. At length Dyke Darrel
entered a well-known restaurant on Randolph street, secured a private
stall, and then bade Mr. Wilks procee