THE WIRE TAPPERS
When the door of the office that Ralph was watching closed again and
was locked, the young fireman approached the room. He was very sure
that some important move against the railroad was meditated by the two
men he had just seen, and he was anxious to overhear their
conversation if possible.
To his intense satisfaction Ralph found that a coal box rested under
the clouded-glass window of the office looking into the hallway. This
window was down from the top some inches. Ralph clambered up on the
coal box, got to the side of the window, fixed his eye at a small
space where the glass was broken, and prepared to listen to the words
of the two men he had in view.
Both sat in chairs now. Bartlett looked brisk and pleased; the
ex-telegraph operator was unkempt, rather sullen, and acted like a man
under orders on some unpleasant duty.
"Well, Morris," said the former, "all ready, are you? Tools and wire
in that bag?"
"Batteries and all, complete outfit," responded the other. "What's the
programme?"
"You haven't mentioned about my employing you to any one?"
"Certainly not."
"And have arranged to stay away from town for several days?"
"A week, if you like, at ten dollars a day you promised me," answered
Morris.
"Very good. Let me see. There's a train about 10 o'clock."
"There is, if the strikers will let it run out," said Morris.
"Oh, they will. I have arranged all that," chuckled Bartlett. "They'll
even help it on, knowing I'm aboard."
"That so?" muttered Morris. "You must have a pull somewhere."
"I have, or at least money has, and I control the money," grinned
Bartlett. "You are to come with me down the line about twenty miles.
You'll be told then about this special job."
Bartlett got up and bustled about. He packed a great many papers in a
satchel, and finally announced that they had better be starting for
the depot.
"Any little by-play you see on the train," said Bartlett, "help along,
mind you."
"Why, what do you mean?" inquired Morris.
"You'll see when we get there," replied Bartlett enigmatically.
When they reached the depot the two men got aboard the one passenger
coach of the night accommodation. There was a combination express car
ahead. Ralph went to the messenger in charge and arranged to have free
access to do as he desired.
When the train started up, he opened the rear door of the car and
commanded a clear view into the passenger coach. The men he was
watching sat side by side, engaged in conversation. There were only a
few passengers aboard.
Ralph kept his eye on the two men. He noticed that Bartlett consulted
his watch frequently and glanced as often from the car window.
Finally, when the brakeman was out on the rear platform and the
conductor at the front of the coach, the young fireman saw Bartlett
quickly draw a small screwdriver from his pocket. Hiding its handle in
his palm and letting the blade run along one finger, he dropped his
arm down the seat rail into the middle of the aisle.
Morris watched towards the rear platform, Bartlett kept his eye on the
conductor. His hand worked against the floor of the car. Finally he
drew up his arm, put the screwdriver in his pocket and once more
resumed his watch on the outside landscape.
There was a sharp signal, and the train gave a jerk. Bartlett arose to
his feet. The next instant he fell flat headlong, and lay apparently
insensible on the floor of the coach.
The conductor ran outside. The train started up again. Ralph, from the
open doorway, heard the engineer shout back something about a false
signal, presumably the work of the strikers. The train proceeded on
its way.
It was not until then, as he re-entered the coach, that the conductor
became aware of the prostrate man on the floor and Morris and other
passengers gathering around him in excitement and solicitude. Ralph
ventured across the platform near to the door of the passenger coach.
Bartlett, seemingly unconscious, was lifted to a seat. He soon opened
his eyes, but feigned intense pain in his side, and acted the injured
man to perfection. He began to explain, pointing to the floor. The
conductor investigated. Ralph saw him draw a long brass screw into
sight.
"A clever game," murmured the young fireman. "What a rascal the fellow
is! He is laying the foundation for a damage suit."
Morris made himself busy, taking the names of witnesses. When the
train stopped, Bartlett had to be almost lifted from the coach. Ralph
alighted, too, and kept in the shadow. As soon as the train left,
Bartlett was able to walk about unassisted.
The little town they had arrived at was dark and silent, and the two
men met no one as they proceeded down its principal street. Then they
turned to the south and walked a distance of about a mile. There was a
kind of a grove lining the railroad. At its center they reached a
lonely hut.
"Open up, there!" shouted Bartlett, pounding on its door with a stick
he had picked up.
A light soon showed through the cracks of the board shutters.
"Who is there?" demanded a voice from the inside.
"Bartlett."
"All right--come in."
"Gasper Farrington," murmured Ralph, as he recognized the occupant of
the hut.
It was the magnate of Stanley Junction, still disguised, just as he
had been the last night Ralph had seen him at the home of Jim Evans.
The three men disappeared within the house. Ralph approached and went
cautiously about the place. He could not find a single point where he
could look into the hut.
The young fireman felt that it was very important that he should learn
what was going on within the house. He at length discovered a way of
gaining access to at least one part of it. This was at the rear where
a high stack of old hay stood. It almost touched the hut, and its top
was very near to a sashless aperture in the attic.
Ralph scaled the stack with some difficulty and reached its top. In
another moment he was inside the attic. It was low, the rafters were
few and far between, and, as he crept over these, they began to sway
and creak in an alarming way.
"This won't do at all," murmured the youth in some dismay, for it
seemed that one more movement would carry down the entire ceiling
below. He tried to retreat. There was a great cracking sound, and
before he could help himself the young fireman went sprawling into the
room below in the midst of a shower of plaster and laths.
"Hello!" shouted Bartlett, jumping up from a chair in consternation.
"I should say so," exclaimed Morris, dodging about out of the way of
falling bits of plaster from the ceiling.
"A spy!" cried Farrington, "a spy! Why, it's Ralph Fairbanks!"
The young fireman stood surrounded by the three men, trying to clear
his half-blinded eyes. He was seized and hustled about, thrown into a
chair, and regained his wonted composure to find Gasper Farrington
confronting him with an angry face.
"So, it's you, is it--you, again?" spoke the latter, gazing at Ralph
with a glance full of ill will.
"Yes," responded the youth. "I can't deny it very well, can I?"
"How do you come to be up in that attic? How long have you been there?
What are you up to, anyway?" shouted the excited Farrington.
"Don't ask me any questions for I shall not answer them," retorted
Ralph nervily. "Here I am. Make the best of it."
"See here," said Bartlett, a deep frown on his face. "This looks bad
for us. Morris, watch that young fellow a minute or two."
He and Farrington went into the next room. There was a low-toned
consultation. When they came back the lawyer carried a piece of rope
in his hand. It was useless for Ralph to resist, and the three men
soon had him securely bound. He was carried into a small adjoining
room, thrown on a rude mattress, and locked in.
For nearly half-an-hour he could hear the drone of low voices in the
adjoining room. Then the door was unlocked, and Farrington came in
with a light and made sure that the captive was securely bound.
"You are going to leave here, then?" asked Bartlett.
"Don't I have to?" demanded Farrington. "This fellow has located us.
I'll take you and Morris to the place I told you about, and move my
traps out of here early in the morning."
"What are you going to do with Fairbanks?" inquired Bartlett.
"I'm thinking about that," retorted Farrington in a grim way. "It's
the chance of a lifetime to settle with him. You leave that to me."
The speakers, shortly after this, left the hut with Morris. Ralph
found he could not release himself, and patiently awaited
developments. His captors had left the light in the next room and the
door open, and he could see on a table the satchel the lawyer had
brought with him from his office.
The sight of it caused Ralph to make renewed efforts for freedom. He
strained at his bonds strenuously. Finally a strand gave way.
It was just as he began to take hope that he might acquire his liberty
before his captors returned, that a sudden disaster occurred that
made the young fireman fear for his life.
Some more of the ceiling plastering fell. It struck the lamp on the
table, upset it, and in an instant the room was ablaze.