"It certainly will. I wish to start out with the assertion that you DO know something about the crime on the midnight express, and I will try and convince you that _I_ know what part you acted in the murder of one of the best men in the service of the express company. Don't lose your temper, sir, but listen?" "I am listening." There was a sullen echo in the man's voice that boded an outburst soon. "A gentleman of your build and complexion boarded the train at a station just south of Chicago one night in April. At another station two companions joined this man, according to previous agreement. One was almost a boy in years, an escaped convict; and these three men during the night entered the express car, murdered the agent, and went through the safe. Just before reaching Black Hollow the three men left the car. One of the three was tall and had red hair and beard. This man, after the slaughter, left a trace behind that has led to his identity. He left the imprint of a bloody hand on a white handkerchief that he took from the pocket of his victim. That handkerchief was afterward found, and the bloody mark compared with the hand of the assassin." "That could hardly be possible. Hands are many of them alike," articulated Mr. Elliston, nervously. "True, but in this case a wart, of peculiar shape, gave the man away. The mark of his bloody hand, leaving the wart's impress, was not only on the handkerchief, but left against the white shirt-front of the murdered man as well. The man who committed the murder read of the clew in a Chicago paper, and, to obliterate the tell-tale evidence, he cut the wart from his hand and dropped it under the seat while journeying through Iowa in disguise, on an emigrant train." The face of Elliston had become white as death, and he trembled from head to foot. If Bernard had doubted before, he doubted now no longer. "A nice story," finally sneered Bernard's visitor. "When did you learn so much?" "Weeks ago--" "And you have permitted this villain to run at large so long!" "Well, I propose to see that he does not flaunt his crimes in the face of the world longer." Then, with a quick movement, the youth drew a vial from his pocket and held it up to view, exhibiting to the dilating eyes of the New Yorker a large wart with a double top. "Just remove the glove from your right hand, Mr. Elliston. I think we will find a scar there that this wart will fit--" "Furies! this is too much," cried Elliston, coming to his feet, white with rage and fear. "Stop. Keep your temper," warned Bernard. "I wish to bring a witness; one that has been your companion in crime." The curtain over the alcove was brushed aside, and a man stepped forth, a man with red whiskers and hair, the latter surmounted with a glossy plug hat. Elliston stared like one bereft of sense and life. "Allow me to introduce Professor Darlington Ruggles, Mr. Elliston," uttered Harry Bernard in a mocking voice.