"I think the fellow intended to throw me off the train." "Goodness! is that so? What was the trouble about?" "No trouble that I am aware of. I did not know the man." "Then it's likely he mistook you for some one else." Dyke Darrel eyed the speaker keenly. There seemed to be nothing suspicious about the Professor, however, and soon after the detective dismissed him from his mind. "All aboard!" shouted the conductor, a little later, and soon the train was speeding northward at a rapid rate. Dyke Darrel went into the rear car, and sat down to meditate on his adventure. He realized that his death had been planned by enemies to law and order, and he believed by the ones who were anxious to throw him off the trail of the outlaws who perpetrated the crime on the midnight express a few nights before. It did not seem possible that the man who had attempted to throw him from the train, and had gone over himself, had escaped unharmed. Doubtless, though badly hurt, he had managed to drag himself away from the immediate vicinity of the track, where he had remained secreted until the brief search was over. Since his fall was unexpected, it was not likely that any of the villain's friends were in the vicinity, and so it might be an easy matter to trace the outlaw. Dyke Darrel formed a plan of operation at once, and rose to leave the train at the next stop. "Do you get off here?" Dyke Darrel was somewhat surprised to see Harper Elliston on the platform of the little station. "I stop here," said Dyke. "And you?" "I thought of going to Chicago." "Postpone your trip then. I wish to consult with you on a matter of importance." The tall gentleman hesitated. The train began to move. "You must decide quickly," cried the detective. Elliston walked the length of the narrow platform, with his hand on the car rail, his satchel in the other hand. His hand fell from the rail, and the express swept swiftly away in the darkness. "Anything to accommodate, Dyke. I had some business of importance to transact in Chicago, but it can wait." "I am sorry if I put you to extra expense, Harper, but I wish to consult with one whom I can trust. I've got a devilish mean work on hand," said Dyke Darrel in an explanatory tone. "You know I am always ready to assist you, Dyke. Is it a criminal case?" "Yes; the last on record." "The express crime?" "Yes." "I mistrusted as much. You have been down the road?" "To St. Louis!" "Exactly." "I took a young offender down who escaped from prison last winter. I think the officers will look after him more closely in the future." "Who was it?" "Martin Skidway." "I don't call to mind the name, now." Lights in the distance showed that the village contained one public-house at least. So there the two men repaired. Mr. Elliston quaffed a glass of wine, while the detective would take nothing but a cigar. Repairing to a room, the two men sat and conversed for some time in the most confidential way.