"No; you are always welcome, Elliston," cried Dyke, extending his
hand. The new-comer accepted the proffered hand, then turned and
smiled on Nell. He was a tall man, with smoothly-cut beard and a tinge
of gray in his curling black hair.

Harper Elliston was past thirty, and on the best of terms with Dyke
Darrel and his sister, who considered him a very good friend.

"You have read the news?" Elliston said, as his keen, black eyes
rested on the paper that lay on the table.

"Yes," returned the detective. "It's a most villainous affair."

"One of the worst."

"I was never so shocked," said Nell. "Do you imagine the robbers will
be captured, Mr. Elliston?"

"Certainly, if your brother takes the trail, although I hope he will
not."

"Why do you hope so?" questioned Dyke.

"My dear boy, it's dangerous---"

A low laugh cut short the further speech of Mr. Elliston.

"I supposed you knew me too well, Harper, to imagine that danger ever
deterred Dyke Darrel from doing his duty."