"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 circumstances, 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 passed 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 basement 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 Dyke Darrel took to Missouri knows enough to hang you---"