e no delays."

Then, drawing a knife from his pocket, the detective bent over the
satchel and slit the sides at one stroke.

"That will open it if a key won't," he remarked, with grim
satisfaction.

The contents of the satchel were a revelation.

Red wigs and a complete suit of clothes, besides paints and powders.

Harry uttered an exclamation.

"Just as I suspected," uttered Dyke Darrel. "You made no, mistake when
you suspected that old man who just now left this vicinity. Doubtless
he forgot his satchel, or else thought it safe until his return. Paul,
my boy, you have done a good thing, and shall be promoted. We must now
make it a point to intercept old Wiggs."

"Doubtless he has gone to the depot."

"How far is that from here?"

"Two miles."

"When does the train pass?" questioned Dyke Darrel.

"I cannot say."

"Nor I."

"Ask the farmer's wife."

Paul sped from the room.

"The New York express goes in ten minutes," said the boy, on his
return.

"In ten minutes? Then we have no time to lose," cried Dyke, turning to
the door.

"Dyke, what would you do?" demanded Nell at this moment.

"Capture your enemy and mine---"

"But you are not strong enough to take the trail. Stay with me."

He interrupted her with:

"Nell, I never felt stronger in my life. I mean to put the bracelets
on the villain's wrists with my own hands."

"Dyke, leave it to me," urged Harry Bernard.

But the detective's blood was up, and he would listen to no one. He
was determined to be in at the death, and for the time his old
strength seemed coursing in his veins. He hastened from the house, and
ascertaining that a horse was in the barn, he at once sprang to the
animal's back.

"You are unarmed?" said Bernard. "Yes, but--"

"Take this; I will quickly follow," and the young man thrust a
revolver into the hand of Dyke Darrel. "Do nothing rash until help
arrives, Dyke. Our game is desperate, and will fight hard if
cornered."

"I am aware of that, but I do not fear him. Ha! what is that?"

"The roar of the train."

"Then time is short."

The horse and rider shot away down the country road like an arrow, or
a bird. On and on, with the speed of the wind, and yet the lightning
express made even greater speed than did the detective's horse.

With a roar and a rush the train swept past.

Too late!

Dyke Darrel drew rein at the depot just as the train swept madly away
on its course to the great city, and on the rear