his hand clasping
hers, Dyke Darrel watched the gasps that grew fainter each moment,
until the silence and quietude of eternity rested on all.

"Dead!"

With that one word Dyke Darrel started to his feet and gazed about
him. There was a flinty gleam in his keen eyes and a fierce grating of
white teeth.

It had been a long time since the railroad detective was moved as at
that hour, with the work of human fiends before him.

From the burning cabin his gaze returned to the upturned white
face of the dead girl. Pure and lovely as a lily looked the face of
the wronged and dead.

"It is better so, perhaps," muttered the detective.

Had the girl lived she might never have enjoyed an hour of reason.
With that dethroned, what could death be but a welcome messenger. And
yet the manner of the mad girl's taking off was shocking in the
extreme.

Had Dyke Darrel known the way out, he would have taken the corpse in
his arms and hurried from the scene at once. As it was, the detective
deemed it wise to remain in the vicinity until morning, when it was
likely he would have little trouble in making his way out of the
woods!

The remaining hours of the night passed slowly. Dyke Darrel dared not
sleep, and so he kept his lonely vigil beside the dead, seated in the
shadows, with revolver ready to use at a moment's notice.

No interruption came, however, and when the gray streaks of morning
dawned the detective breathed easier. He at once went in search of a
road that would lead out of the wood.

He met with better success than he had dared hope. He found a path
that must have been used by the owner of the cabin, and which it was
evident the mad girl had followed in her wanderings.

How long she had been in the cabin the detective had no means of
knowing, but it seemed to him evident that she could have been there
but a few hours when discovered by him.

The way out of the Black Hollow woods was long and tedious, but Dyke
Darrel proved equal to the task, and when he broke cover and entered
upon the open ground above, he was glad to see a team approaching,
driven by a farmer.

"Hello! What hev' you got there?" cried the man, in open-eyed
amazement, when he halted beside the detective and his burden.

"A lady. She was accidentally killed last night."

"It's awful!"

"I quite agree with you," returned Dyke Darrel; "but if you will take
the woman aboard and drive to the house of Mr. Bragg, I will pay you
for it."

"Of