the brain of the villain, preventing
his search along the track. If Dyke Darrel had leaped after him, what
more natural than his hiding in the clump of timber for the purpose of
pouncing upon him when he came up the road.

"I'll not risk it," muttered Ruggles. "I've other fish to fry just now
than looking after detectives. I must find that hag, Madge Scarlet,
and get my hands once more on Nell Darrel."

Then Mr. Ruggles turned his steps in the direction of the station.
Already daylight was dawning, and Professor Ruggles was almost beside
himself with anxiety. He cursed the woman who had made it necessary
for him to leave the train so many miles outside of Gotham. Such a
change in the programme might result fatally to himself. Dyke Darrel
was hot on the trail now, and it would require the best efforts of a
desperate man to throw him off the scent.

The man with the sunset hair was desperate enough. With hurried steps
he made his way to the depot. The agent was just shutting up.

"No train, save a way-freight, will be along till night," he said, in
answer to a question from the gentleman with the red locks. Ruggles
had taken the precaution to provide himself with a cap from his
satchel before presenting himself to the man on duty at the depot.

"One question," said Ruggles, as the man was about to walk away.

"Well?"

"Did any passengers get off here some hours since from the New York
train east?"

"No."

"Are you sure?"

"None came into the depot, at any rate," said the man.

"Any passengers get on?"

"Several."

"Among them an old woman?"

"I saw no woman."

"You are sure?"

"Of course I am."

Ruggles was disappointed. Could it be possible that he had been led on
a fool's errand after all, and that Madge Scarlet, with her prize, had
been concealed on the train, and continued on to New York? The thought
was intolerable.

In the meantime, how fared it with Dyke Darrel, who lay stunned and
bleeding across the railroad track.

It was almost sun-up before he opened his eyes and groaned. His bed
was a hard one, and it seemed as though every bone in his body was
broken. The fact was, he was yet sore from his serious fall through
the trap into the basement on Clark street, consequently it is little
wonder he was badly demoralized, both in mind and body, at his last
mishap.

Presently a strange rumbling jar filled his ears. A bend in the road
to the west hid the track, but the dazed brain of Dyke Da