"Not in the least."
Then the two men walked on until a lamp-post was gained. Here the features of each were plainly revealed.
A low exclamation fell from the lips of Dyke Darrel.
"Good thunder, Harry Bernard! how are you? Where in the world did you spring from?"
The detective grasped and wrung the man's hand warmly—a rather slender young fellow, with brown hair and eyes, a mustache being the only sign of beard on his face.
"One question at a time, Dyke," returned the young man with a laugh. "I mistrusted it was you all the time. It strikes me that you are becoming careless in your old age. Hope you're not in love—THAT makes a fool of a man sometimes?"
"Does it? No, I'm not in any such predicament; fact is, I am wedded to my profession and shall never marry. But, Harry, you haven't answered my questions yet."
"You asked me how I get on; I can answer that by saying that I was never better in my life. I have been across the plains, among cowboys and Indians, and it's given me strong muscles and good health. I arrived in St. Louis this morning. It was the merest chance that placed me in a position to do you a service, Dyke. As I said before, it seems to me that you are getting careless. Just imagine what the result would have been had I not put in an appearance. I have the fellow's coat to show for the adventure."
"True enough. I admit that I was careless," returned the detective, "and my adventure will serve to put me on my guard hereafter. Come with me to my room, Harry, and we will talk over matters in general. I must take the midnight express North, and may not see you again soon, unless you conclude to go on with me."
"I shall remain in St. Louis for the present," returned young Bernard.