CHAPTER VII.
WHAT A HANDKERCHIEF REVEALED.
Dyke Darrel was so dazed from the blow he had received as to be unable to ward off the dirk that was thrust at his bosom by the vile assassin, and had not a third party appeared on the scene at this critical moment the story we are now writing would never have been told.
A kind Providence had on more than one occasion favored the daring railroad detective.
Before the point of the knife touched the breast of Dyke Darrel, a swift-flying object sent the deadly weapon out into the middle of the street.
The next instant a man bounded from the shadow of a building upon the would-be assassin. There was a short struggle, when the last comer found, that instead of the detective's assailant, he held a coat in his hands.
The villain had made good his escape.
"Confound you!" greeted the new comer.
"Who was it?"
"I saw him following you, sir, and made up my mind that some villainy was in the wind. I do not know who the villain was. Are you hurt?"