"She told me that."
"And she knows Gasper Farrington. She asked me a queer question, Ralph."
"What was it, mother?"
"If father did not once own twenty thousand dollars in railroad bonds, and if we had ever got them."
Ralph stopped eating for a moment.
"She said that, did she?" he murmured. "Mother, wouldn't it be strange if she knew something about those bonds?"
"She does."
"How do you know?"
"Because she admitted it. Mrs. Davis was very much agitated. She seemed on the point constantly of telling me something, and then she would mutter to herself and apparently change her mind. When she went away she looked at me very strangely and said: 'Mrs. Fairbanks, when I get the money from my sister to pay your son back the ten dollars he has so kindly loaned me, I am going to tell him a little story about those twenty thousand dollars bonds that may interest him.'"
The bonds formed the topic of conversation for mother and son for nearly an hour after that. They could only surmise and anticipate, but both were very much stirred up.
"I tell you, mother," said Ralph emphatically, "that woman knows something of importance to us about those bonds. You and I and others have never doubted that Gasper Farrington stole them from father. I have never given up the idea that some day I would reach the truth, and force Farrington to disgorge, just as we made him release the fraudulent mortgage. I really believe things are going to turn so as get us our full rights."
"We will hope so, Ralph," said the widow, with a dubious sigh. "And now tell me all about your first day in the switch tower."
Ralph went to bed about eleven o'clock. He had a good sleep until eight in the morning, devoted an hour or two to tidying up the yard and assisting his mother in various ways, and at noon started for work again.
Old Jack Knight was on duty, and spelled Ralph at the levers until about four o'clock. No unusual incident disturbed the usual routine until an hour later.
In starting to give a switch engine the siding, Ralph found the lever would not budge. The locomotive engineer discovered the unset switch in time to stop. Ralph megaphoned to hold stationary till he investigated, and ran down the ladder.
He found the lever cables chained to a wall bracket. Of course here was some more spite work. He removed the obstruction, hurried upstairs, switched the delayed engine, and kept an eye out for the watchman who covered that part of the yards.
When he finally appeared in view, Ralph hailed him and asked him to come inside the tower.
"Mr. Brady," he explained, "I wish you would keep a close eye on the lower story here for a day or two."
"Why, what's wrong?" inquired the watchman.
"Well, someone is up to dirty work," replied Ralph. "They tried to put two levers out of commission yesterday, and just now I found another lever chained up."
The watchman looked startled, and whistled under his breath.
"That's pretty serious," he remarked.
"It is," responded Ralph. "I wish you would keep a watch on strangers."
"And discharged employees?" interrogated the watchman, with a shrewd nod. "I think I know what's up, and who is up to it."
Ralph felt certain that Mort Bemis was back of the last attempt to cripple his usefulness. He did not, however, believe that Bemis himself had chained the lever, for he had kept a pretty close watch of the yards all afternoon, and had seen nothing of the discharged leverman. Ralph theorized that Bemis had put some associate up to the trick. It was an easy matter for any passer-by to step into the lower story of the switch tower without being seen from above. Ralph made up his mind he would seek out Bemis. When he was relieved after dark he did not go home. He had made some inquiries of Knight as to the present whereabouts and haunts of Mort Bemis, and Ralph thought he knew where to look for the fellow.
CHAPTER VII-"YOUNG SLAVIN"
Railroad Street to the right of Stanley Junction was a busy, respectable thoroughfare. There were a hotel, some restaurants, a store or two, and beyond these some old residences.
To the left, however, the street retrograded into second-hand stores, junk-shops, and the like, cheap eating places and boarding-houses, with a mixture of saloons.
The lower class of railroad employees and the scum of the Junction usually infested these places. At a restaurant called "The Signal" Ralph, from what he learned that day, felt he was pretty sure to get some trace of Mort Bemis.
He went by the place slowly once or twice, but could not discover Bemis in the crowded front room.
Then he paced down the alley at the side of the building. Several lower-story apartments showed lighted up. He approached the open window of one of these.
As he did so, he noticed that directly under it lay some person asleep, rolled up in horse-blankets. Ralph nearly stumbled over this individual.
He glanced into the room beyond the window. It held a table, at which was seated the object of his search.
Mort Bemis was idly pawing over a greasy deck of playing cards. He seemed to be awaiting the arrival of congenial company. Tilted back in a chair against the wall near by, a skullcap pulled down over his eyes and seemingly asleep, was a person Ralph did not recognize.
Ralph now stepped cautiously over the sleeper at his feet so as not to disturb him, and went around to the front of the restaurant.
It was run by a man named Prince, who at one time had conducted eating camps for railroad construction crews. He kept lodgers upstairs, and derived a good deal of revenue by letting out the rear rooms of the lower floor to card-players.
Ralph entered the restaurant and passed through a curtained doorway at one side. Prince, at the cashier's desk, gave him a keen look, but took him for some new recruit to the crowd who infested the rear rooms.
A narrow passageway led the length of the rear addition. Ralph turned the knob of the second door he reached. He found he had correctly located the apartment he had viewed from the alley.
Mort Bemis looked up as Ralph closed the door behind him. He started and stared. Ralph came around to the table, sank into the chair directly opposite Bemis, and looked him squarely in the face.
"What are you doing here?" demanded Bemis a surly, suspicious expression crossing his features.
"I came particularly to see you," answered Ralph calmly. "Can I have your attention for a minute or two?"
"Just two of them," growled Bemis.
Ralph did not scare at the bullying, significant manner of the discharged leverman.
"It's just this," he said bluntly: "you visited the switch tower yesterday and came very nearly causing a bad wreck."
"Who told you so?" demanded Bemis.
"Oh, there are plenty of witnesses, your former landlady, for one. Another low-down trick was attempted this afternoon, instigated, I believe, by you. Now, Mr. Bemis, this has come to a dead-open-and-shut conclusion."
"Has it? How?" sneered Mort.
"I have legitimately succeeded to your position, and I intend to hold it. You seem resolved to discredit and disgrace me. It won't work. If you make one more break in my direction, I shall go to the superintendent of the Great Northern, make a formal complaint of malicious mischief, and then enter a regular complaint with the police."
Mort Bemis did not reply. His bluff was gone, for he knew that Ralph meant every word that he said.
"There's another thing," pursued Ralph: "you owe a poor widow money that she needs, and needs badly. If you have any sense of shame or honor in your nature, you will find honest work and pay her."
"I don't want none of your advice!" flared out Bemis. "You've said your say! Then get out. I'll keep hands off because I don't fancy being