ould smile if I didn't," answered the young man. "He died in a Missouri dungeon, sent there by this same Dyke Darrel, the railroad man-tracker. Hate him? Of course you do, but not as I do. I have sworn to have revenge for the five years I laid in a dungeon for shoving the queer."
"And Dyke Darrel is now in Chicago?"
"Yes. I parted from him not an hour since."
"What is he here for?"
"The crime on the midnight express brings him here."
"And you saw and talked with him?"
"He recognized you of course?"
"No, he did not; that is the best of it. I am to meet him again to- night. It won't be long before the man who sent Uncle Dan to a Missouri dungeon is in your presence, and you shall do with him as you like, Madge Scarlet."
"As I like?"
"I have said it."
"Then Dyke Darrel shall die!"
"That's the talk," Madge. "THAT sounds like your old self; I am glad you have come to your senses. If Nick and Sam come in, tell them to be in