Dyke Darrel the Railroad Detective; Or, The Crime of the Midnight ExpressPinkerton, A. Frank
General
Dyke Darrel the Railroad Detective; Or, The Crime of the Midnight Express
Pinkerton, A. Frank
Crime -- Fiction; Detective and mystery stories; Railroad stories
And the sneering Madge Scarlet realized that she was. It was a most
humiliating position. Once the woman thought of making a quick spring,
but a pressure of the trigger was all that was necessary to send a
bullet on an errand of death.
With reluctance the woman drew a bundle of keys from her pocket and
flung them to the floor behind her, and close to the door that stood
ajar.
"Don't be so spiteful. Now, then, go to that corner. Move quickly!"
The girl still threatened her keeper with the cocked derringer, and
she crossed the floor with a growl that was not pleasant to hear.
"There, that is about right."
Then Nell Darrel backed to the door, snatched up the bunch of keys and
lamp, passed into the next room, securing the door just as the hag
from within came against it with tremendous force, at the same time
uttering a series of the most ear-splitting yells.
The door failed to yield, and Nell now hastened to improve her
opportunity for escape that the carelessness of Mrs. Scarlet had given
her.
CHAPTER XXI.
A BOUT IN THE CELLAR.
It was a stout tin lamp that the fleeing girl held in her hand, and
the blaze filled the subterranean apartment but dimly.
She found herself in a square room, larger than the one she had just
left. Advancing to a door she tried it, to find it locked. This was
made to yield, however, by one of the bunch of keys, and she proceeded
to another door that stood ajar.
"Help!"
It was a smothered cry that reached the girl's ears, and quite
startled her.
The sound came from the next apartment. For a minute Nell Darrel
hesitated. She reasoned that she had nothing to fear from the hag who
kept the place, and one who was in need of help certainly could not be
a friend to Mrs. Scarlet, or those who profited by the old woman's
villainy.
"Help!"
Again came that cry, and Nell moved forward, pushed open the door and
flashed her light over the scene--a room much smaller than the one she
had just quitted.
A dark object writhing on the floor startled her vision.
"Old woman, do you mean to murder me here?"
The man seemed to imagine that the new comer was the hag who kept the
place. With trembling step Nell Darrel advanced and flashed her light
into the face of a bound and helpless prisoner.
"Mercy! It is Dyke!"
Stunned at the discovery, Nell was completely overcome for the time,
and stood with arms extended like one petrified.
"Nell, is it you?" cried the yet stunned detective. "Where is the old
hag who rules this den of iniquity?"
"Back yonder, safely locked in a room," said Nell, when she could find
voice.
"And you did it?"
"Yes."
"Cut these cords, brave girl, and we will soon be out of this."
Placing her lamp on a box near, Nell Darrel proceeded to comply with
the request of her brother. She had with her a small open knife, and
this came into play neatly enough.
Soon the detective's limbs were free. He found when he attempted to
rise, that he was unable to do so.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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