"I might; but---"

"Well?" as the man hesitated.

"You see, I've got a place to fill in the world, and don't want to mix with anything that's unlawful," and the Professor stroked his red beard in a solemn manner.

"Yet you would be glad to see d.y.k.e Darrel dead?"

"Hush, woman! Walls have ears. You are imprudent. I have nothing against Mr. Darrel in particular, only he has injured my friends, and may be up to more of his tricks. Now, as regards Watson Wilks, you say d.y.k.e Darrel has gone to Missouri with the boy in charge?"

"Yes. The last friend I had in the world has been torn from me, to languish in prison. I will have the detective's heart's blood for this," cried the woman, with pa.s.sionate vehemence.

"Of course," agreed the Professor. "But of what crime was the young man accused? Not the one on the midnight express, I hope?" The tall visitor bent eagerly forward then, and penetrated the woman with a keen gaze.

"No, no," was the quick reply. "I know that Martin had no hand in that."

"Martin?"

"Watson, I mean," corrected Mrs. Scarlet. "I sometimes call the boy Martin, which is his middle name, so he has a right to it."

"Exactly. You KNOW that the boy had nothing to do with the robbery last night. I don't wish to argue or dispute with a lady, but I shall be compelled to question HOW you know so much. Will you answer?"

"Because--because Martin is incapable of such work. I have read all about it in the papers, and am confident that it was the work of an organized band." The Professor laughed until his white teeth gleamed in the lamplight.

"So sure!" he said. "You consider that nephew of yours a pattern of propriety. Is this the only reason you have for believing that Watson Wilks had no hand in the murder of Arnold Nicholson, and the rifling of the express company's safe?"

"I have another!"

"Well?"

"He was in Chicago at the time the deed was done."

"Can you prove this?"

Professor Ruggles seemed extremely eager, as he bent forward and touched the arm of Madge Scarlet with a white forefinger.

"I can prove it."

"Very good. It may never be necessary, but if the worst comes, you may be called on. I suppose you're not in the best of circ.u.mstances, Mrs.

Scarlet?"

The Professor drew forth his wallet. "I shall suffer, now that my boy is gone."

"Don't fear that, madam," returned Darlington Ruggles, as he laid a bank note for a large amount in her hand. "Providence and your friends will take care of you. You have rendered me more than one good service, and I may call on you for more, soon, much sooner than you imagine."

"Anything I can do, Professor, will be gladly performed;" was the woman's answer, as she clutched the bank note eagerly, and thrust it from sight.

Then Professor Ruggles turned to the door. Here he paused and faced the woman once more.

"Madge, what charge was your nephew arrested under?"

"An old one."

"That is not an answer," and the man frowned.

"The charge is for uttering counterfeit coin. I believe the boy was innocent, but there was money on the other side, and Martin was sent up for ten years; my husband for fifteen. My man died of a broken heart, being innocent, and Martin served five years and then escaped."

"I understand. I don't think the boy will ever serve out his time."

"I hope he may not, but---"

"Keep a stout heart, Mrs. Scarlet. Influences are at work to free the boy. It will not do to permit him to languish in prison. I tell you Providence is on your side."

Then Mr. Darlington Ruggles pa.s.sed from the room.

"Strange man," muttered the woman, after he had gone. "He is a mystery. Sometimes I imagine he is not what he seems, but a detective.

I hope I have given nothing away, for I find it won't do to trust anybody these days."

In the meantime Professor Darlington Ruggles made his way to another part of the city, not far from the river, and met a man in a dingy bas.e.m.e.nt room at the rear of a low doggery.

Strange place for a learned professor, was it not?

"You've kept me waiting awhile, boss."

The speaker was the man we have seen at Madge Scarlet's--Nick Brower by name.

"I couldn't get away sooner," returned the professor. "How does the land lay, Nat?"

"In an ugly quarter."

"I feared so myself. The young chap that d.y.k.e Darrel took to Missouri knows enough to hang you---"

"And you, too, pard; don't forget that," retorted the grizzled villain grimly.

"I forget nothing," said Mr. Ruggles, giving his plug hat a rub across his left arm. "It isn't pleasant, to say the least, having matters turn out in this way. I wish to see you in regard to this d.y.k.e Darrel." "I'm all ears, pard."

"He must never see Chicago again."

"Wal?" "I want you to see to it, Nick."

"I don't know about that," muttered the grosser villain. "I've shed 'bout enough blood, I reckin."

"It is for your own safety that I speak, Nick. No trace of that last work can ever reach me."

"Don't be too sure, Darl Ruggles. With d.y.k.e Darrel on the trail, there's no knowing where it'll end. He's unearthed some o' the darkest work ever did in Chicago an' St. Louis. I WOULD breathe a durn sight more comfortable like if d.y.k.e Darrel was under the sod."

"So would others."

"Yourself, fur instance."