A SUSPICIOUS PROCEEDING
"Mr. Griscom, this is life!"
Ralph Fairbanks spoke with all the ardor of a lively, ambitious boy in
love with the work in hand. He sat in the cab of the locomotive that
drew the Limited Mail, and he almost felt as if he owned the splendid
engine, the finest in the service of the Great Northern.
Two weeks had passed by since the young fireman had baffled the
railroad thieves. Ralph had made brief work of his special duty for
Adair, the road detective, and there had come to him a reward for
doing his duty that was beyond his fondest expectations. This was a
promotion that most beginners in his line would not have earned in any
such brief space of time. The recovery of the stolen silk, however,
had made Bob Adair a better friend than ever. The road detective had
influence, and Ralph was promoted to the proud position of fireman of
the Limited Mail.
This was his first trip in the passenger service, and naturally Ralph
was anxious and excited. Griscom had been made engineer, his eyes
having mended, and Ralph was very glad that the veteran railroader
would continue as his partner.
Regarding the silk robbery, that was now ancient history, but for
several days the occurrence had been one of interest all along the
line. Adair had made public the circumstances of the case, and Ralph
became quite a hero.
The night he had managed to get the plunder into the gravel car he had
instantly secured assistance at Brocton. The valuable goods were
guarded all night, and a party of men made a search for the thieves,
but they had taken the alarm and had escaped.
Zeph Dallas had gone back to Millville with Limpy Joe, and went to
work there. A further search was made for Ike Slump, Mort Bemis and
their accomplices, but they could not be found. Jim Evans had been
discharged from the railroad service. Nothing more was heard of Gasper
Farrington, and it seemed to Ralph as if at last his enemies had been
fully routed and there was nothing but a clear track ahead.
"It feels as if I was beginning life all over again," Ralph had told
his mother that morning. "Fireman of the Limited Mail--just think of
it, mother! one of the best positions on the road."
Ralph decided that the position demanded very honorable treatment, and
he looked neat and quite dressed up, even in his working clothes, as
he now sat in the engine cab.
Griscom proceeded to give him lots of suggestions and information
regarding his new duties.
There had been a change in the old time schedule of the Limited Mail.
Originally it had started from the city terminus in the early morning.
Now the run was reversed, and the train left Stanley Junction at 10:15
A.M.
Ralph proceeded to get everything in order for the prospective run,
but everything was so handy, it was a pleasure to contemplate his
duties.
Just before train time a boy came running up to the engine. He was an
old schoolmate and a neighbor.
"Ralph! Ralph!" he called breathlessly to the young fireman. "Your
mother sent me with a letter that she got at the post-office."
"For me? Thank you, Ned," said Ralph.
He glanced at the address. The handwriting was unfamiliar. There was
no time left to inspect the enclosure, so Ralph slipped the letter in
his pocket and proceeded to attend to the fire.
He quite forgot the letter after that, finding the duties of a
first-class fireman to be extremely arduous. There was plenty of coal
to shovel, and he was pretty well tired out when they reached the
city terminus.
"There, lad," said Griscom proudly, as they steamed into the depot on
time to a second. "This makes me feel like old times once more."
There was a wait of four hours in the city, during which period the
train hands were at liberty to spend their time as they chose. Griscom
took Ralph to a neat little hotel, where they had a meal and the
privileges of a reading room. It was there that Ralph suddenly
remembered the letter sent to him that morning by his mother.
As he opened it he was somewhat puzzled, for the signature was strange
to him. The missive stated that the writer "was acting for a former
resident of Stanley Junction who wished to settle up certain
obligations, if a satisfactory arrangement could be made." Further the
writer, as agent of the party in question, would meet Ralph at a
certain hotel at a certain time and impart to him his instructions.
The young fireman was about to consult Griscom as to this mysterious
missive, but found the old engineer engaged in conversation with some
fellow railroaders, and, leaving the place, he proceeded to the hotel
named in the letter.
He was an hour ahead of the time appointed in the communication and
waited patiently for developments, thinking a good deal and wondering
what would come of the affair.
Finally a man came into the place, acting as if he was looking for
somebody. He was an under-sized person with a mean and crafty face. He
glanced at Ralph, hesitated somewhat, and then advanced towards him.
"Is your name Fairbanks?" he questioned.
"Yes," answered Ralph promptly.
"Wrote you a letter."
"I received one, yes," said Ralph. "May I ask its meaning?"
"Well, there is nothing gained by beating about the bush. I represent,
as an attorney, Mr. Gasper Farrington."
"I thought that when I read your letter," said Ralph.
"Then we understand each other," pursued the attorney. "Now then, see
here, Farrington wants to do the square thing by you."
"He ought to," answered Ralph. "He owes us twenty thousand dollars and
he has got to pay it."
"Oh, yes, you can undoubtedly collect it in time," admitted the man.
"But why all this mystery?" asked Ralph abruptly. "In an important
matter like this, it appears to me some regular attorney might
consult our attorneys at Stanley Junction."
"Farrington won't do that. He don't feel the kindest in the world
towards your people. Here is his simple proposition: This affair is to
be settled up quietly between the parties directly interested. I am to
give you certain papers for your mother to sign. You get them attended
to. You will be later advised where and when to deliver them and get
your money."
"Twenty thousand dollars?" said Ralph.
"Yes."
Ralph did not like the looks of things, but he kept his own counsel,
and simply said:
"Very well, give me the documents you speak of and I will act upon
them as my mother decides."
"And keep the business strictly to yourselves."
This looked reasonable to Ralph. He knew that Farrington felt deeply
the disgrace already attached to his name for past misdeeds of which
he had been guilty.
"We have no desire to humiliate Mr. Farrington any further," he said.
"We simply insist upon our rights. This strikes me as a mysterious and
uncalled-for method of settling up a claim purely business-like in its
character."
"That is the way of old Farrington, you know," suggested the man, with
a coarse laugh.
"Yes, he seems to be given to dark ways," said Ralph.
"Then it is all arranged?" questioned the "lawyer" eagerly.
"So far as it can be arranged for the time being."
"Very well, you shall hear from us in a few days."
Ralph left the hotel with one fixed conviction in his mind--that old
Gasper Farrington was up to some new scheme and that it would be wise
to look out for him.