CHAPTER XXVIII.
THE REVELATIONS OF A SATCHEL.
"Hello, old man!"
"Eh?"
The man stopped, stared at Harry Bernard as if puzzled, and then beganto grin.
"I want to speak with you, sir."
"Sortin, sortin you can."
"Who are you?"
"Sam Wiggs o' Yonkers. Wat can I do for ye, mister?"
The old fellow seemed honest enough, and as Harry glanced at the dirtyhands, he saw nothing to excite his suspicions.
"Are you a relative of Mr.---?" naming the farmer who owned the placeon which they stood.
"Wal, not as I knows on," drawled the old fellow, laughing until hisold head seemed ready to topple from his shoulders. "No bloodrelation, any how, sir. You see, my wife's cousin's aunt's husband'sbrother Jerry was a cousin to Nicodemus Dunce, who, if I don'tdisremember, was related in some way to Isacker Pete's wife's sister,and she was this ere man's niece, or somethin' o' that sort, but weain't blood related nohow."
"I should think not," answered Harry, and then he returned to thehouse, while the old man Wiggs proceeded unmolested on his way.
"At a first glance, he DID resemble the man of the emigrant trainstrongly," muttered Bernard, "but I see now that I was mistaken."
"Well, how did you make out, Harry?"
"This was from Dyke Darrel, who had been watching proceedings from thewindow.
"A case of mistaken identity," answered the young man, with a laugh."I was sure I had found the right man when I saw that old chapcrossing the yard, but it seems that I was mistaken."
"Are you sure of it?"
"I suppose I am."
Dyke Darrel watched the retreating form of the old man with no littlecuriosity, however, until his bent form was lost to view down thewinding road. Naturally suspicious, the detective more than halfbelieved that the seemingly aged man had not come to the farm-housefor any good purpose.
"I can't help thinking that Wiggs, as he called himself, is destinedto give us trouble, Harry," the detective said, at length.
"An inoffensive old man," asserted Bernard. At the same time, however,he was not fully content to let the matter rest as it was.
"It might be well enough to watch the old fellow, at any rate," saidDyke Barrel, rising and walking twice across the room, peeringnervously out of the window in the direction in which old Wiggs hadgone.
"Keep quiet, Dyke," said Bernard. "I will shadow the old fellow, andsee if he is other than he seems."
Bernard was on the point of leaving the room, when a youth appeared,walking swiftly toward the farm-house from the direction of thestation. One glance sufficed to show both men the genial face of theboy Paul Ender.
"So you have Paul with you, Harry?" said the detective with a pleasedsmile.
"He is my shadow, and I have found him true and brave," answeredHarry, at the same time glancing toward Nell, who had told him of thelad's defense of her against the villain Elliston.
"I can testify to his bravery," said the girl. "Paul and I are greatfriends."
A minute later, young Ender entered the presence of the trio, anddeposited a black satchel in the middle of the floor.
"I have committed a theft," said the boy, with a queer look on hisface, "and am here to throw myself on the mercy of the court."
"You speak in riddles," said Bernard. "I've been on a bully lay, asthe peelers say, and I believe have made a discovery, although it mayamount to nothing after all."
"Go on."
"I've seen the man with the red hair and beard."
"When?"
"Where?"
"Over by the depot. I saw him go into an old out-house with thissatchel in his hand."
"Indeed!"
"Go on."
"I was on the watch, and when he came out I saw, not Brother Ruggles,but a lean old man, with white locks and beard, who seemed to walkwith great difficulty."
"Ah!"
"Indeed!"
"He hobbled away, and failed to take the satchel with him. At first Icould not believe that the sorrel gent and the old chap were the same.I learned this by investigation. When, after waiting a spell, and nosunset-haired gent came forth, I proceeded to investigate, and foundthis satchel, which, under the law of military necessity, I proceededto confiscate, that the ends of justice might be furthered. If I havedone wrong, I am ready to throw myself on the mercy of the court, andbe forgiven."
"You have done right," cried Dyke Barrel. "Have you opened thesatchel?"
"No. It is locked, and I haven't a key that will fit."
Harry Bernard produced several keys, none of which fitted the lock tothe satchel.
"What are we to do?" cried Bernard. "The satchel is securely locked,and its owner has the key."
"This is no time for ceremony or undue squeamishness!" uttered DykeDarrel. "We are on the eve of an important discovery, and I propose tomake no delays."
Then, drawing a knife from his pocket, the detective bent over thesatchel and slit the sides at one stroke.
"That will open it if a key won't," he remarked, with grimsatisfaction.
The contents of the satchel were a revelation.
Red wigs and a complete suit of clothes, besides paints and powders.
Harry uttered an exclamation.
"Just as I suspected," uttered Dyke Darrel. "You made no, mistake whenyou suspected that old man who just now left this vicinity. Doubtlesshe forgot his satchel, or else thought it safe until his return. Paul,my boy, you have done a good thing, and shall be promoted. We must nowmake it a point to intercept old Wiggs."
"Doubtless he has gone to the depot."
"How far is that from here?"
"Two miles."
"When does the train pass?" questioned Dyke Darrel.
"I cannot say."
"Nor I."
"Ask the farmer's wife."
Paul sped from the room.
"The New York express goes in ten minutes," said the boy, on hisreturn.
"In ten minutes? Then we have no time to lose," cried Dyke, turning tothe door.
"Dyke, what would you do?" demanded Nell at this moment.
"Capture your enemy and mine---"
"But you are not strong enough to take the trail. Stay with me."
He interrupted her with:
"Nell, I never felt stronger in my life. I mean to put the braceletson the villain's wrists with my own hands."
"Dyke, leave it to me," urged Harry Bernard.
But the detective's blood was up, and he would listen to no one. Hewas determined to be in at the death, and for the time his oldstrength seemed coursing in his veins. He hastened from the house, andascertaining that a horse was in the barn, he at once sprang to theanimal's back.
"You are unarmed?" said Bernard. "Yes, but--"
"Take this; I will quickly follow," and the young man thrust arevolver into the hand of Dyke Darrel. "Do nothing rash until helparrives, Dyke. Our game is desperate, and will fight hard ifcornered."
"I am aware of that, but I do not fear him. Ha! what is that?"
"The roar of the train."
"Then time is short."
The horse and rider shot away down the country road like an arrow, ora bird. On and on, with the speed of the wind, and yet the lightningexpress made even greater speed than did the detective's horse.
With a roar and a rush the train swept past.
Too late!
Dyke Darrel drew rein at the depot just as the train swept madly awayon its course to the great city, and on the rear platform stood theold man who had peered into the farm-house window but a short timebefore.
It was an aggravating situation.
"You can use the telegraph," suggested the depot agent, when Darrelunbosomed himself to him.
"Quick! Send word to the next station, and have the man detained."
The ticket agent went to his instrument and ticked off the desiredinformation.
A little later came the reply:
"No s
uch person on the train."
A malediction fell from the detective's lips. Was his enemy to thusoutwit him always?