When the young man made a closer inspection of the girl he had rescued, a cry of surprise fell from his lips. "As I live, it is Nell Darrel!" But she could not speak to thank him for his act, since she had fainted. Lifting her tenderly the young man turned his steps in the direction of the farm-house, where he had been stopping during the past two days. "Curse you! curse you!" were the venomous words flung after the man by Madge Scarlet. But she dared not interfere to prevent the rescue. When Nell Darrel again opened her eyes, it was to find herself calmly resting on a couch in a little room, whose cozy appearance was like home indeed. And the face that bent over her was not that of a stranger. Could it be that she was dreaming? "Thank Heaven!" murmured a manly voice, and then a mustached lip bent and pressed a clinging kiss to the cheek of poor Nell. "Harry, dear Harry!" Thus had the lovers met after many long months of separation. A smile rested on the face of the fair girl as she held Harry's hand while he talked of the past. She explained as best she could the strangeness of her situation; but everything was so much like a dream, it was a hard matter to reconcile some of the events of the past few weeks. "The end draws nigh," assured young Bernard, after a time. "If the notorious man calling himself Ruggles was on the train, he will, on discovering his loss, turn back, and then I will capture him." CHAPTER XXVI. THE MYSTERIOUS WART. We left Dyke Darrel, the detective, in a critical position on the railroad track, with the roar of a freight engine in his ears. The rays of the rising sun touched the glittering rails as the long train swept around the bend upon doomed Dyke Darrel. One more tremendous effort on the part of the detective, and he succeeded in throwing his body squarely across one of the rails. In this position he hung a helpless weight, with the hoarse roar of the engine making anything but sweet music to his fainting soul. Ha! Look! A hand is outstretched to save at the last moment, and Dyke Darrel is jerked from under the smoking wheels, even as their breath fans his fevered cheek. The train swept on. A cheer greeted the man who had come opportunely to the rescue as the engine swept on its course. And a little later a man, young, yet whose boyish face bore marks of dissipation, stood beside the detective and gazed into his face now for the first time. "Great Caesar!" The young man started as though cut by a knife, and bent low over the fallen detective, who was now struggling to a sitting posture. When he looked into the face of his rescuer he uttered a great cry. "My soul! how came you here, Martin Skidway?" "I am a fugitive," answered the young convict. "It wasn't through your good will that I got out of prison, I can tell you that. Had I known who it was on the track, I might not have put out my hand to save."