"Yes. It gave me a shock, too. Arnold was a good fellow."
Harry Bernard's face wore a serious look as he took the blood-stained handkerchief from the hand of the detective, and examined it with mournful interest.
"It must be that you were assaulted by one of the train robbers, Dyke," said the youth, as he returned the relic of that midnight crime.
"I imagine so. The scoundrels have discovered that I am on the trail, and they mean to put me out on the first base, if possible. Did you see the man's face who assaulted me, Harry?"
"Imperfectly. I know, however, that he had red hair."
"Ah!"
"You suspected as much?"
"Yes. In the dead man's fingers was a bit of red hair. It seems conclusive that the villain who assaulted me to-night was the one who engaged in the death struggle with poor Nicholson. The trail is becoming plain, and before the National holiday rolls round I hope to have the perpetrator of this crime behind prison bars."
"I hope you are not over-sanguine, Dyke."
"I have ever been successful."