Dyke Darrel the Railroad Detective: The Crime of the Midnight Express

The girl reeled, and clutched the table at her side for support. The name uttered by her brother was that of a friend of the Barrels, a man of family, and one who had been in the employ of the express company for many years. No wonder Nell Darrel was shocked at learning the name of the victim. "You see how it is, Nell?" "Yes," returned the girl, recovering her self-possession. "I meant to ask you to forego this man-hunt, but I see that it would be of no use." "Not the least, Nell," returned Dyke, with a compression of the lips. "I would hunt these scoundrels down without one cent reward. Nicholson was my friend, and a good one. He helped me once, when to do so was of great inconvenience to himself. It is my duty to see that his cowardly assassins are brought to justice." Even as Dyke Darrel uttered the last words a man ran up to the steps and opened the front door. "I hope I don't intrude," he said, as he put his face into the room. "No; you are always welcome, Elliston," cried Dyke, extending his hand. The new-comer accepted the proffered hand, then turned and smiled on Nell. He was a tall man, with smoothly-cut beard and a tinge of gray in his curling black hair. Harper Elliston was past thirty, and on the best of terms with Dyke Darrel and his sister, who considered him a very good friend. "You have read the news?" Elliston said, as his keen, black eyes rested on the paper that lay on the table. "Yes," returned the detective. "It's a most villainous affair."

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