CHAPTER XXXVII. DENTON'S LITTLE ADVENTURE IN THE CARS.

W HEN Denton, to his infinite disgust, saw his scheme foiled by the return of Oliver and Bundy to the inn at Kelso, he was strongly tempted to go back also. But prudence withheld him. It was by no means certain that he had been recognized. Very probably Bundy really went back on account of some slight matter which he had forgotten.

Denton was of opinion that his visit to Kelso was not connected with the interest of his employer. Therefore he decided to return to Chicago and await the reappearance of Oliver and Bundy. Undoubtedly they would return to the same hotel where they had been stopping.

By the time he took his seat in the car he was in quite a philosophical frame of mind, and reconciled to the turn that events had taken.

It would have been well for Mr. Denton if he had become involved in no new adventures, but his lucky star was not in the ascendant.

He took a seat beside a stout, red-haired, coarse-featured man, with a mottled complexion, who might have been a butcher or a returned miner, but would hardly be taken for a "gentleman and a scholar." Yet there was something about this man that charmed and fascinated Denton. Not to keep the reader in suspense, it was an enormous diamond breastpin which he wore conspicuously in his shirt-front. Denton knew something about diamonds, and to his practised eyes it seemed that the pin was worth at least five thousand dollars. He only ventured to glance furtively at it, lest he should excite suspicion.

The stout man proved to be sociable.

"Fine mornin'," he remarked.

"It is, indeed," said Denton, who had no objection to cultivating the acquaintance of the possessor of such a gem. "Pleasant for travelling."

"Yes, so 'tis. Speakin' of travelling I've travelled some in my time."

"Indeed," commented Denton.

"Yes, I've just come from Californy."

"Been at the mines?"

"Well, not exactly. When I fust went out I mined a little, but it didn't pay; so I set up a liquor saloon in the minin' deestrict, an' that paid."

"I suppose it did."

"Of course it did. You see, them fellers got dry mighty easy, and they'd pay anything for a drink. When they hadn't silver, I took gold-dust, an' that way I got paid better."

"You must have made money," said Denton, getting more and more interested.

"You bet I did. Why, they used to call me the Rich Red-head. Hallo! why, you're a red-head, too!"

Denton was about to disclaim the imputation, when he chanced to think of his red wig, and answered, with a smile:

"Queer, isn't it, that two red-heads should come together?"

"Your hair's redder than mine," said the stout man with a critical glance.

"Perhaps it is," said Denton, who was not sensitive, since the hair belonged to a wig. "So you became rich?"

"I went to California without fifty dollars in my pocket," said the other complacently. "Now I can afford to wear this," and he pointed to the diamond.

"Dear me! why, what a splendid diamond!" exclaimed Denton, as if he saw it for the first time.

"It's a smasher, isn't it!" said the stout man proudly.

"May I ask where you got it?"

"I bought it of a poor cuss that drunk hisself to death. Gave a thousand dollars for it!"

"Why, it must be worth more!" said Denton almost involuntarily.

"Of course 'tis. It's worth three thousand easy."

And two thousand on top of that, thought Denton. He doesn't know the value of it. "How long have you had it?" he enquired.

"Risin' six months."

"It's a beautiful thing," said Denton. "Are you going to stop in Chicago, may I ask?"

"Maybe I'll stop a day, but I guess not. I live in Vermont—that is, I was raised there. I'm goin' back to astonish the natives. When I left there I was a poor man, without money or credit. Then nobody noticed me. I guess they will now," and he slapped his pockets significantly.

"Money makes the man," said Denton philosophically.

"So it does, so it does!" answered the stranger. Then, with a loud laugh at his own wit, he added: "And man makes the money, too, I guess. Ho, ho!"

Denton laughed as if he thought the joke a capital one.

"By George, I never said a better thing!" said the stout man, apparently amazed at his own wit.

"Didn't you? Then I pity you," thought Denton. But he only said:

"It's a good joke."

"So 'tis, so 'tis. Do you live in Chicago?"

"Yes; I reside there for the present."

"In business, eh?"

"No, I have retired from business. I am living on my income," answered Denton with unblushing effrontery.

"Got money, hey?" said the stout man respectfully.

"I have some," answered Denton modestly. "I am not as rich as you, of course. I can't afford to wear a breastpin worth thousands of dollars."

"Kinder gorgeous, aint it?" said the other complacently. "I like to make a show, I do. That's me. I like to have folks say, 'He's worth money.'"

"Only natural," said Denton. "What a consummate ass!" he muttered to himself.

There was a little more conversation, and then the stout man gaped and looked sleepy.

"I didn't sleep much last night," he said. "I guess I'll get a nap if I can."

"You'd better," said Denton, an eager hope rising in his breast. "A man can't do without sleep."

"Of course he can't. You jest wake me up when we get to the depot."

"Have no trouble about that," said Denton quickly. "I'll be sure to let you know."

In less than five minutes the stranger was breathing heavily, his head thrown back and his eyes closed beneath the red handkerchief that covered his face. Denton looked at him with glittering eyes.

"If I only had that diamond," he said to himself, "my fortune would be made. I'd realize on it and go to Europe till all was blown over."

Everything seemed favorable to his purpose. First, he was in disguise. He would not easily be identified as the thief by anyone who noticed his present appearance, since he would, as soon as he reached Chicago, lay aside the glasses and the wig together. Again, the man was asleep and off his guard. True, it was open day, and there were twenty other passengers in the car at the very least. But Denton had experience. He had begun life as a pickpocket, though later he saw fit to direct his attention to gambling and other arts as, on the whole, a safer and more lucrative business.

Denton riveted his eyes covetously on the captivating diamond. His fingers itched to get hold of it. Was it safe? A deep snore from the stout man seemed to answer him.

"What a fool he is to leave such a jewel in open sight!" thought Denton. "He deserves to lose it."

An adroit movement, quick as a flash, and the pin was in his possession. He timed the movement just as the cars reached a way station, and he instantly rose, with the intention of leaving the car.

But he reckoned without his host.

As he rose to his feet his companion dashed the handkerchief from his face, rose also, and clutched him by the arm.

"Not so fast, Mr. Denton," he said, in a tone different from his former one. "You've made a little mistake."

"Let go, then!" said Denton. "I am going to get out."

"No, you are not. You are going back to Chicago as my prisoner."

"Who are you?" demanded Denton, startled.

The red-headed man laughed.

"I am Pierce, the detective," he said. "We have long wanted to get hold of you, and I have succeeded at last, thanks to the diamond pin. By the way, the diamond is false—a capital imitation, but not worth over ten dollars. You may as well give it up."

"Is this true?" asked Denton, his face showing his mortification.

"You can rely upon it."

"I'll buy it of you. I'll give you twenty dollars for it."

"Too late, my man. You must go back with me as a prisoner. Suppose we take off our wigs. My hair is no more red than yours."

He removed his wig, and now, in spite of his skin, which had been stained, Denton recognized in him a well-known detective, whose name was a terror to evil-doers.

"It's all up, I suppose," he said bitterly. "I don't mind the arrest so much as the being fooled and duped."

"It's diamond cut diamond—ha! ha!" said the detective—"or, we'll say, red-head versus red-head."

When Denton reached Chicago he became a guest of the city—an honor he would have been glad to decline.