"Did you know the murdered messenger, Dyke?"

"It was Arnold Nicholson."

"No?"

The girl reeled, and clutched the table at her side for support. The
name uttered by her brother was that of a friend of the Barrels, a man
of family, and one who had been in the employ of the express company
for many years.

No wonder Nell Darrel was shocked at learning the name of the victim.

"You see how it is, Nell?"

"Yes," returned the girl, recovering her self-possession. "I meant to
ask you to forego this man-hunt, but I see that it would be of no
use."

"Not the least, Nell," returned Dyke, with a compression of the lips.
"I would hunt these scoundrels down without one cent reward. Nicholson
was my friend, and a good one. He helped me once, when to do so was of
great inconvenience to himself. It is my duty to see that his cowardly
assassins are brought to justice."

Even as Dyke Darrel uttered the last words a man ran up to the steps
and opened the front door.

"I hope I don't intrude," he said, as he put his face into the room.