"I am not fully decided," returned Dyke Darrel. "At what hour does the train pass?"
"Six-fifty to-night."
"But the down train goes earlier?"
"At four."
"And at Bloomington I can take the cars for Burlington?" "If you so desire."
"I will think about it."
Sauntering along in the afternoon, just in the outskirts of the village, Dyke Darrel came suddenly upon a man standing with his back against a telegraph pole.
"Hello!" ejaculated the detective, as the man turned and faced him.
It was Harper Elliston.
"I thought you were in Chicago," pursued the mystified Dyke. And then he remembered the face he had seen at the window of the cabin in Black Hollow the previous night. The memory brought a harsh expression to his countenance.