"Then the other alternative is alone left me, Dyke Darrel."
"And that?"
"DEATH TO YOU!"
Straightening to his full height after uttering the three terrible words, Martin Skidway snatched a heavy iron bolt from the ground, that had lain long beside the track, and raised it above the head of helpless Dyke Darrel.
"Martin Skidway, hold!"
The words of the detective came forth in a thrilling cry.
An instant the would be assassin stayed his hand.
"You agree to my terms?"
"No; but—"
"Then you must die. It will be considered an accident, and no one will suspect my hand in the affair."