"Will you go down on Clark street with me?"

"Not just now."

"When?"

"I will meet you here this evening, and consult on that point."

"Very well. Better take something."

"No; not now."

Dyke Barrel rose to his feet and turned to leave the stall.

"Don't fail me now, sir."

"I will not."

The detective walked out. The moment he was gone a change came over
the countenance of the young brakeman. The pleasant look vanished, and
one dark and wicked took its place.

"Go, Dyke Darrel; I am sharp enough to understand you. You distrust
me; but you're fooled all the same. It's strange you've forgotten the
boy you sent to prison from St. Louis five years ago for passing
counterfeit coin. I haven't forgotten it; and, what is more, I mean to
get even."

Then, with a grating of even white teeth, Watson Wilks passed out. At