painful. At length the woman found her voice.

"Dyke Barrel! Ah! fiend of Missouri, I have good cause to remember you
and your work. Do you know, Watson, the fate of your poor uncle?"

"Well, I should smile if I didn't," answered the young man. "He died
in a Missouri dungeon, sent there by this same Dyke Darrel, the
railroad man-tracker. Hate him? Of course you do, but not as I do. I
have sworn to have revenge for the five years I laid in a dungeon for
shoving the queer."

"And Dyke Darrel is now in Chicago?"

"Yes. I parted from him not an hour since."

"What is he here for?"

"The crime on the midnight express brings him here."

"And you saw and talked with him?"

"I did."

"He recognized you of course?"

"No, he did not; that is the best of it. I am to meet him again to-
night. It won't be long before the man who sent Uncle Dan to a
Missouri dungeon is in your presence, and you shall do with him as you
like, Madge Scarlet."