"I can do it easy enough." "I hope so. To-night I will have more definite plans. I may conclude to take the girl away then." Mr. Elliston passed from the room. He had been gone but a few minutes when another person entered--Nick Brower, the tool and friend of Mrs. Scarlet and the Professor. "Well, what's the news, Nick. My nephew is still in durance vile?" "Yes," answered the low ruffian, "and what's more, Dyke Darrel, the detective, is in Chicago!" CHAPTER XIX. THE DETECTIVE FOOLED. Two men met unexpectedly in one of the hotel corridors of the great city; two hands went out, and "How are you, Harry?" "How are you, Dyke, old boy?" "When did you leave St. Louis?" This from the detective. "Not long since. I am confident that our game is in this vicinity. I meant to come down to Woodburg soon, and consult with you. I sent a telegram, but it brought no answer from you." "I wasn't at home. It was placed in my hands yesterday." "And that is why you are here?" "Not wholly." There was a gloomy look on the face of the detective, not natural to it, and young Bernard knew that something had gone decidedly wrong with his detective friend. "It is about Nell," said Dyke Darrel, when questioned. "She came to the city last evening, in answer to a letter purporting to come from me. The letter was a decoy from some villain, and I fear that Nell has met with a terrible fate." A groan came at the last. Harry Bernard's face blanched, and he, too, seemed excited and deeply moved. The keen eyes of Dyke Darrel noticed the young man's emotion, and he felt a suspicion growing stronger each moment. "Nell in the city--decoyed!" exclaimed Harry at length. "Great heaven! Dyke, this is awful!" "It is." Then the detective laid his hand on the young man's shoulder, and piercing him with a stern look, said in an awful voice: "Harry Bernard, on your honor as a man, what do you know of this enticing of Nell to the city?" "What do I know?" "Yes; what do you know?" There was a stern ring in the detective's voice, not to be mistaken. "I know only what you have just told me, Dyke." "This is the truth?" "Good heaven! Dyke Darrel, do you imagine that _I_ had aught to do with enticing your sister to this wicked city? My soul! You do not understand the feeling that animates my heart for Nell Darrel. I hope you will not insult me again with a suspicion so haggard and awful." The hurt look resting on the face of the young amateur detective was sufficient to convince Dyke Darrel that Harry Bernard spoke the truth, and this knowledge only increased his uneasiness. "I am fearful some terrible ill has befallen Nell," groaned Dyke.