Elliston stood at the man's feet, facing him with folded arms, while the kneeling detective addressed himself to the apparently dying man.
"I haven't nothing to tell."
"See here, Mr. Swart, it is better that you tell what you know. Do justice for once, and it may be better with you in the hereafter. You attempted to murder me last night, and I believe you had a hand in the death of Arnold Nicholson and the robbery of the express."
"I—I did, but he coaxed me into it," articulated the poor wretch in a husky voice. Elliston caught the words, and his cheek suddenly blanched. He was outwardly calm, however.
Dyke Darrel bent low to catch the faint words of Swart. It was evident that the man was rapidly sinking, and the detective was terribly anxious to get at the truth.
"Speak!" he cried, hoarsely, "WHO coaxed you to commit this crime?"
"HE did. The boy and—and Nick was with—with me."
"But who was the leader—the instigator of the foul deed?"
Close to the swollen lips of the dying man bent the ear of Dyke Darrel, every nerve on the alert to catch the faint reply.
A name was uttered that caused Dyke Darrel to spring to his feet with a great cry.