"What do I know?"
"Yes; what do you know?"
There was a stern ring in the detective's voice, not to be mistaken.
"I know only what you have just told me, Dyke."
"This is the truth?"
"Good heaven! Dyke Darrel, do you imagine that I had aught to do with enticing your sister to this wicked city? My soul! You do not understand the feeling that animates my heart for Nell Darrel. I hope you will not insult me again with a suspicion so haggard and awful."
The hurt look resting on the face of the young amateur detective was sufficient to convince Dyke Darrel that Harry Bernard spoke the truth, and this knowledge only increased his uneasiness.
"I am fearful some terrible ill has befallen Nell," groaned Dyke.
"My friend," said Harry, "we must let all other matters rest until we find the girl. I have a suspicion that may lead to something definite. Let me tell you now, that during the past year you have warmed a serpent in your bosom in the person of Harper Elliston. I have never, until now, dared make this assertion in your presence, knowing as I did the great respect you had for the oily-tongued fellow. The time for plain speaking has come, however."
"I shall take no offense."