"Now's your time, Sam," whispered Professor Ruggles; "the fellow's on the platform smoking!"
This was fully two hours after the thickset man first stepped upon the train. He at once came to his feet, and sauntered in a careless manner to the door. The night was not dark, and the man could plainly see a dark form leaning against the end of the opposite car, a bright red gleam showing the end of his cigar.
It was indeed Dyke Darrel, who had come out upon the platform to cool his heated brow and reflect on the situation, while he smoked a cigar for its soothing influence.
He could not drive the thought of Harry Bernard and the train robbery from his mind. He remembered that the young man had left Woodburg suddenly the fall before, and nothing had been seen or heard from him by his friends since, until Dyke's meeting him so strangely in St. Louis. It was barely possible that the assault and the rescue by young Bernard were part of a deep-laid plot. Dyke Darrel possessed a suspicious mind, and he could not reconcile appearances with the innocence of young Harry Bernard.
Deeply meditating, the detective scarcely noticed the opening of the car door opposite his position. His gaze, however, soon met the form of a man as he stepped across the narrow opening between the coaches.
The detective was instantly on the alert. He was not to be caught napping, as he had been once before that night.
The moment the stranger passed to his platform, Dyke Darrel faced him with a drawn revolver in his hand.
"Mr., I want a word with you."
Thus uttered the thick-set passenger, and then Dyke Darrel recognized the man who had boarded the train at the first station outside of St. Louis.
"What is it you want?" demanded the detective shortly.