"I will not serve my time out, you can bet high on that," asserted the young prisoner in a confident tone.
Dyke Darrel more than half suspected that the young counterfeiter knew something of the late crime on the midnight express, and during the ride to St. Louis he did all that he could to worm a confession from the prisoner.
"It is possible that you may get your freedom at an early day," said the detective. "I have heard of men turning State's evidence, and profiting by it."
"I suppose so."
"I would advise you to think on this, Martin Skidway."
"Why should I think on it? Do you think I'm a fool, Dyke Darrel?"
"Not quite," and the detective smiled. "I know you have been pretty sharp, young man, but not keen enough to escape punishment. You have five years yet to serve, at the end of which time you may be arrested and hung for another crime."
"You are giving me wind now."
"I am not. A terrible crime was committed four and twenty hours since, and on this road; a midnight crime that the whole country will work to punish. It will we impossible for the express robbers to escape."
"You are a braggart!"