Remaining a few days in St. Louis, Dyke Darrel at length left the city en route for Woodburg. He was anxious to meet Nell, from whom he had been absent now about a fortnight. On reaching Woodburg the detective found a telegram awaiting him from Chicago: "Come at once. I have made an important discovery. "H." Of course this must be from Harry. It was dated some days before, however, which annoyed Dyke. Harry Bernard might have changed his base of operations by this time. "I will call at the house," mused Dyke Darrel. "I have an hour's time before the next Chicago train." Aunt Jule was extremely glad to meet "Marse Dyke." "Why didn't you bring the young missus wid yo?" questioned the negress. "What's that? Hope you didn't think I'd committed matrimony?" and the detective laughed lightly, at the same time chucking Aunt Jule under her fat chin. "Lor-a-massy, no, Marse Dyke. I meant Missy Nell," explained the black woman. "Miss Nell? Isn't she at home?" "Wal, now, what a question. In coorse she ain't. Didn' yo' send fur her yo' very self? How den yo' 'spec she's goin' to be home ef yo' didn' done brung her, eh?" All this was Greek to Dyke Darrel. "What in the name of caution are you driving at, Aunt Jule? I haven't seen my sister since I left home, and if she's gone to look for me she's done a very foolish thing, for I'm not long in one place--she ought to have known better." Aunt Jule flounced out of the room, to return soon with a yellow envelope in her hand. "Dere, look a-dat now. Ef yo' didn' done writ dat, den I'd like to know who did." The detective opened the letter his housekeeper placed in his hand, and read: "CHICAGO, April 30, 188-. NELL:--Come on the next train, as I wish to see you in this city. Aunt Jule will look after the house until your return. Don't disappoint me. "DYKE." The detective glanced at the negress after reading this note, the writing of which very much resembled his hand. "This came when?" "Yesterday." "Through the mail?" "Yes, Marse." A frown darkened the brow of the detective. He crumpled the letter in his hand and began pacing the floor with nervous strides. "Somefin must be wrong ef yo' didn' write that letter." Suddenly Dyke Darrel turned on the speaker and touched her huge arm with a clinging hand. "Jule, when did my sister answer this letter?" he demanded, fiercely. "Jest the next train." "Last night?" "Yes, Marse Dyke." Dropping his hand from Aunt Jule's huge arm, the detective rushed from the room and the house. He was laboring under great excitement, as well he might be, for Nell was as the apple of his eye, and she had been enticed to the great city for a fell purpose, he believed. CHAPTER XVII. NELL IN THE TOILS. The instant after Professor Ruggles fired, the masked face in the doorway disappeared, and the sound of swift-moving feet was heard.