Ten minutes later Ralph and Bob Adair entered the office of the superintendent of the Great Northern. As they did so, a tall, well-dressed man left by another door. Adair nudged Ralph.
“The President of the road,” he spoke in a low quick tone.
“Yes, I see,” nodded Ralph.
“Eyes and ears wide open. We’re going to see some lively doings, if I don’t mistake my cue.”
Ralph felt the dignity and force of the occasion. It was a good deal for a mere youth to realize that he was being called into an important conference on a footing with old and experienced railroaders. The serious yet pleasant greeting of the superintendent told that the situation was a distinct compliment to the fine record and ability of the young railroader.
Ralph modestly took a chair to one side of the big table at which the superintendent and his assistant were seated. Adair produced that formidable memorandum book of his, stuffed with all kinds of secrets of the rail.
“We had better get down to business without any preamble,” spoke the head official briskly. “Before we begin, however, I wish to commend you, Fairbanks, for your diligence in our behalf.”
“Thank you, sir,” said Ralph with a flush of pleasure.
“Yourself and Glidden handled the situation at the relay just as we would have wished it done. What is your report, Adair?”
The road detective consulted his notes in a matter-of-fact way, and began detailing his information as if he was reading off a freight schedule, but Ralph was immensely interested and so were his other auditors.
Part of what Adair told was news to Ralph. The most of Adair’s disclosures, however, linked to what he already suspected or knew. Briefly narrated, the two queerly-acting men who had been noticed by Ralph in the company of Glen Palmer’s grandfather and during the trouble in the tunnel had been the starting clews in the case.
“There is a man named Rivers and half a dozen fellow conspirators who are making most of the trouble,” said the road officer. “Two of the men Fairbanks spotted over two weeks ago. They were after the secrets of our paymaster, as we well know. From word I have received from an assistant, Dallas, they and a group of helpers are hanging around the vicinity of scene of the smash up last night.”
“There’s a mystery to explain, Adair,” here broke in the superintendent. “What was the motive for the collision?”
“Just malicious mischief, I presume--a part of the contract of the gang to hamper and cripple the Great Northern all they can,” returned the assistant. “The work was done by the same group--the word I have received from young Dallas assures me of that.”
“If I may be allowed to say a word,” submitted Ralph.
“Certainly,” nodded the superintendent, and all eyes were instantly fixed on Ralph. The latter took from his pocket the memorandum book and letters which had belonged to the injured train wrecker. He explained how he had found them. There was sharp attention, while the officers expressed approval in their looks.
“From all I can gather from these,” explained Ralph, “the man who ran away with the old engine was Rivers. This book bears his name. From it I would think he was receiving a goodly sum each week from some mysterious source for ‘looking after’ the Great Northern, as it is expressed.”
“This is the underhand work of our rivals in business,” declared the assistant superintendent bitterly.
“I think so, too,” assented Ralph. “Outside of that, however, it is certain that Rivers and his fellow conspirators are doing some business ‘on the side,’ as he again aptly expresses it in his notes. A letter will show you that a man named Kingston hired him to wreck the two cars near the quarry.”
“Kingston, the contractor? Why, it was his own machinery. He had a large contract to do some extensive blasting work for the Great Northern,” spoke Adair.
“Yes,” nodded Ralph, “I guess that from what the memorandum book tells me. The contract, however, had to be done in a certain time or Kingston forfeited a heavy bond, I believe.”
“That is true,” said the superintendent.
“He found out that his machinery would not do the work and that he would lose on his contract.”
“And wrecked his own plant!” exclaimed the assistant superintendent.
“Incredible!” murmured the head official at his side.
“You deserve something for ferreting that out,” declared Adair approbatively. “There is your evidence, gentlemen, it seems,” he added, pushing the documents over to the others.
“This is getting pretty serious,” observed the superintendent.
“I will hunt up the contractor,” said Adair, making a note. “I have men looking for Grizzly and Mason. The other suspects in the service are being shadowed. I think, with the start this famous young friend of ours, Fairbanks, has given us, there will be a general clearing up of the situation in a short time. Dallas is in the company and confidence of the conspirators. There will be some arrests and confessions within a few days. I think I can safely promise that.”
Ralph listened attentively while the others engaged in a general discussion of the situation. It was arranged that he should resume his position at headquarters in the office of the chief train dispatcher. Adair was to go down the line for the avowed purpose of getting more closely in touch with his faithful young assistant, Zeph Dallas. The latter, through the exercise of a keen intelligence and perseverance, seemed to proudly hold the key to the entire situation, and Ralph was glad of it.
“There is one other subject of importance,” remarked the road officer, as the superintendent arose and the conference seemed as on end.
“What is that?”
“The pay car affair.”
“I thought that was all arranged.”
“It is, so far as we are concerned, but shall I advise Fairbanks of the arrangements?”
“By all means,” directed the superintendent promptly.
“Yes, he has proven his trustworthiness and ability,” supplemented the assistant, “and it is our wish that he should be appraised of exactly what is going on.”
“Very well,” nodded Adair, in his usual brusque manner, “I will attend to that. Come on, Fairbanks.”
Ralph bowed courteously to his two official friends and left the room with the road officer. As they reached the street Adair linked his arm in that of Ralph in a confidential way.
“See here, Fairbanks,” he remarked, “such tricks as that smash up and the pay car business any road may have to tackle from time to time. We shall attend to the fellows behind those schemes all right, but it’s bigger game we are after. A plot has crippled our service, corrupted our operators, stolen our private wire information. Bear this in view, and when new things come up along that line, which they are bound to do, dig out all you can under the surface that will give us a handle against the real plotter--the rival road that is trying to throw us down.”
“I understand, Mr. Adair,” said Ralph.
“You are going up to the train dispatcher’s office?”
“Yes.”
“I’ll join you there in about half an hour, as I have some cypher messages I want you particularly to attend to. I’ll tell you then about this pay car business.”
Ralph had to be content with this. As he walked along he wondered what Adair would have to tell him. The fifteenth of the month was only ten days ahead, and the pay car according to usual schedule should start on the regular trip three days earlier.
Ralph was glad to get back to duty pure and simple. Seated at his desk he was soon absorbed in getting accumulated work out of the way. He was pretty busy when one of the second trick men came up to him.
“Mr. Fairbanks,” he said, “I thought I would speak to you about a message I took over the commercial wire early this morning.”
“Is that it.” inquired Ralph, at once guessing the allusion, and producing the little yellow slip of paper that the road officer had given him.
“‘From Glen Palmer,’” read the operator over Ralph’s shoulder--“yes, that’s the one: ‘Look out for the pacer.’ It came in on a jumble of stuff like a quick cut in. There was more, but I couldn’t catch it. I signaled ‘repeat,’ but lost the sine, and it was clicked so thunderingly fast I got mixed on the letters.”
“You don’t know the point of sending, then?” asked Ralph.
“No. I didn’t know what the other end was trying to give me: Look out for the packer? faker, pacer?”
“Hello!” said Ralph, so strangely and suddenly that the operator started at him agape.
“What’s the matter?” inquired the latter, wonderingly.
Ralph did not reply. He was thinking hard. A sudden light had illuminated his mind.
“I’ve got it,” he breathed in some mental triumph. “‘Look out for the pay car!’”
“Understand, Fairbanks?”
“Perfectly, Mr. Adair.”
“The pay car goes through on regular schedule out of Stanley Junction.”
“Yes, sir.”
“With enough ammunition ahead to settle the hash of any possible meddlers. We’ll make the test. Then the other end. A split up at the end of each section, and if the gang get ahead of us on that arrangement, they are cleverer than I thought they were.”
All this would have been Greek to a person not acquainted with the facts of the case. The colloquy terminated a whispered confidential talk between Ralph and Bob Adair in the chief dispatcher’s office. The road officer seemed to throw the pay car off his mind after a statement that Ralph was one of six persons who knew what was about to happen, namely, the President and superintendent of the road, the assistant superintendent, the paymaster and Adair himself.
“There will be something to keep track of Tuesday night,” observed Adair. “You’ve got your instructions for that occasion.”
“Yes, well in mind,” said Ralph. “One moment before you go, Mr. Adair. I have told you about the ‘pacer’ message.”
“Yes,” nodded the road officer, “and your explanation looks plausible.”
“I don’t want to judge from appearances. You see, I feel like giving Glen Palmer a show.”
“That’s fair enough, Fairbanks. I can’t help thinking, though, that he or his grandfather have had some dealings with the crowd we are after.”
“It is only a theory,” persisted Ralph, “but I figure it out that the old man, Glen’s grandfather, is some veteran telegrapher. He isn’t right in his mind, and perhaps, without Glen knowing it, he was approached secretly by the conspirators. Perhaps they have benefited from his knowledge of telegraphy in tapping the wires.”
“You say the boy, too, is an expert operator?”
“From what I learn, yes,” answered Ralph. “His grandfather would naturally teach him.”
Adair shrugged his shoulders. It was evident he considered circumstances against the Palmers, for he said:
“I don’t like their sudden disappearance. I don’t fancy, either, what Slump remarked about young Palmer being a jail bird.”
“That looks bad enough,” admitted Ralph, “but please consider that message on the piece of board thrown through the window of the station.”
“Well?”
“Didn’t that show that Glen Palmer was trying to get some word to me?”
“Maybe.”
“Under difficulties, too. I believe that he was a prisoner, perhaps shut into some freight car, but managing to send adrift that word to me.”
“You’re pretty loyal to anyone you like, Fairbanks.”
“I want to do the poor fellow justice,” responded Ralph. “Then later, that fragment of message ‘Look out for the pay car.’ I can’t help thinking that the boy is straight, and wants to warn and help us.”
“Hope so,” said Adair brusquely. “A short time will tell. I shall soon round up the crowd, and if young Palmer is in wrong with them I shall find it out.”
It seemed like getting down to a decidedly humdrum existence, routine duty at the dispatcher’s desk after the exciting experience preceding. When Glidden came on duty he merely smiled in his grim way, with the words to Ralph:
“In harness again, eh? I reckon things will smooth down now.”
Ralph hoped so. He believed it, too, as a few days went by and in the keen zest and interest of his new work he partially forgot the active issues of the conspiracy, which seemed to have been checked or subdued.
With the departure of Grizzly and Mason the suspicious and treacherous element seemed to be eliminated from the main office. The tricks of the enemy and their methods were now known to the dispatching force, and they were constantly on their guard. A new private code was adopted by Ralph, and a system of checking up through repeats that pretty well safeguarded them against crooked messages.
Mrs. Fairbanks was congratulating herself that affairs had quieted down permanently and was enjoying the days that brought Ralph home for the evening each day, when a new ripple on the surface of affairs set things in vivid action again.
Ralph had come home to dinner and was spending a few minutes in casual conversation with his mother after the meal, when the door bell rang sharply. Ralph answered the summons to find Glidden standing outside, his face pale and anxious, and so nervous over something that he could not stand still in the same position for a single minute.
“Any trouble, Mr. Glidden?” inquired Ralph quickly.
“Only of my own,” responded the old operator. “See here, I want you to do something for me. It’s a hurry business. Just tell your mother not to worry if you are away to-night.”
“Is there a probability that I will be?” inquired Ralph.
“If you consent to do me the favor of my life, yes,” declared Glidden quickly. “See here, I’ve fixed everything.”
The operator shoved a slip of paper towards Ralph. It was a brief permission for Ralph to go off for twenty-four hours.
“I had to act quick,” explained Glidden, “so I got that end of it fixed directly.”
“I hardly understand, Mr. Glidden.”
The old operator glanced at his watch and grabbed the arm of his companion.
“Come on,” he insisted. “There’s no time to lose. We can talk as we walk along. I don’t want to bother you with my family troubles, Fairbanks, but I need a reliable friend.”
“I am certainly at your service.”
“Thanks. It’s your way, you can’t help it,” commented the erratic operator. “Here’s the situation: I have a brother in business at Derby.”
“That’s seventy-five miles down the line.”
“Exactly. It seems that he owns a new mill. I don’t know exactly what he does, but it’s in the metal manufacturing line. He has invented a process for making a substitute for Babbitt metal.”
“They use some of it at the shops, I remember,” said Ralph.
“A man named Dorsett, who was his partner, started in the same line after selling out and contracting not to do so. His process is no good, and he wants to get my brother to a point where he will treat with him.”
“I see,” nodded Ralph, much interested.
“It seems that my brother in starting in for himself had to run in debt for his principal machinery. His old partner managed somehow to buy the debt from the machinery people. He has put the screws to my brother, got out an execution for four thousand dollars against him, and unless that amount and the costs of the judgment are paid by tomorrow, he takes possession, and my brother loses everything.”
“There’s lots of mean work in the world, and this is one of the hard cases,” observed Ralph.
“The worst of it is,” continued Glidden, “my brother never let me know about the tight fix he was in. I never should have heard of it if he had not got sick in bed. He could do no business and his lawyer wrote to me. I got the letter only an hour ago. You see how fast I must work. I’ve got to raise that four thousand dollars before court time tomorrow.”
“Four thousand dollars?” repeated Ralph seriously--“that’s a big sum of money, Mr. Glidden.”
“Yes, for a poor man like me, but brother John shall have it. I can’t see a good twenty thousand dollar investment wrecked to satisfy the malice of an enemy. See here--take that,” and Glidden extended a package and Ralph regarded it wonderingly.
“What is it, Mr. Glidden?” he inquired.
“One thousand dollars--five years’ savings, I just drew it from the bank here. I want you to take the three o’clock train for Derby. Go to my brother’s lawyer, whose address I will give you. Pay him that one thousand dollars, and see if he can’t use it to stave off proceedings until I get on hand bright and early tomorrow morning with the balance of the money.”
Ralph was greatly interested in the affairs of the Gliddens. The old dispatcher was a good fellow all around; he had proven himself a loyal friend to the young railroader, and Ralph could not resist the compliment implied in entrusting him with an important mission.
“Sure the leave of absence is all right?” he suggested.
“Saw the superintendent himself.”
“Very well, I’m glad to go for you,” said Ralph, and he stowed the one thousand dollars in a safe inside pocket. “How are you going to raise the other three thousand dollars, though?”
“I have a sister living at Wilston, who I know has as much as I had in bank. I’m going to take the express for there, jump to Myron, where a brother-in-law runs a small country bank, and I’m not afraid of results. My sister owns a two thousand dollar mortgage that I have an interest in, too. I’ll take that on to the bank to put up as security, if it’s needed.”
“You’re a pretty good brother, Mr. Glidden,” said Ralph earnestly.
The old operator mumbled in his throat and turned away to hide the emotion that lay under his gruff manner.
By the time they reached the depot Glidden had given Ralph final detailed instructions. He did not know how his messenger might find affairs at Derby, but he seemed to take a good deal of comfort in believing that if they were at all complicated, Ralph’s dexterity and intelligence would simplify the problem.
“Tell the lawyer I will be certain to reach Derby on the first morning train with the money,” declared Glidden. “Stay with him all night and watch things. Keep your eye on the other crowd and guard the factory.”
“I shall try to do all you suggest,” promised Ralph.
He telephoned to his mother at home. It was a three hours’ ride to Derby. Ralph reached his destination about five o’clock in the afternoon. He went to the office of the lawyer, located above a store, but found its door locked. Then he inquired in the place below as to his residence and received the necessary directions.
As Ralph left the store he noticed a crowd of four men lounging in front of a drinking place across the street. From their manner he judged that they had watched him go up to the office of the lawyer. Why they were interested Ralph did not know, but he kept a keen eye out, remembering that he carried a thousand dollars in an inner pocket of his coat.
“Two of those men are following me,” Ralph said to himself with conviction, a minute later.
This he believed to be true, judging from their actions. They kept pace with him on the opposite side of the street. Ralph gave no sign that he suspected their surveillance. Suddenly as the two men were crossing the street, a lank, wretched looking fellow came towards them from the doorway of a saloon. It was apparent that he knew them and made some appeal to them. One of them brushed him carelessly aside. As the other passed him the mendicant caught his sleeve to detain him. The man turned, jerked away, shot out his fist, and striking the other brutally in the face sent him prostrate to the pavement and walked coolly on.
“Poor fellow!” commented Ralph, as the man picked himself up, wiping the blood from his injured face with an old ragged handkerchief.
“That’s the way you treat an old friend after getting all you can out of him, is it?” shrieked the injured man, waving his fists wildly after his assailant. “I’ll fix you for this. I’ll get even with you.”
The incident passed out of Ralph’s mind as he sought for and found the home of the lawyer. As he entered its gate he glanced back down the street. The two men who had followed him stood at the next corner. Soon they turned and retraced the way they had come. Apparently they were satisfied in the proceedings, their mission having been to locate Ralph’s destination.
Ralph found the wife of the lawyer at home. It took only a few minutes for a bright businesslike boy and a woman who interested herself in her husband’s professional duties to understand one another. Ralph explained the object of his call.
“I am very glad to welcome you,” said the lady. “And I am glad of the good news you bring. My husband and I are deeply interested in Mr. Glidden’s business affairs. My husband had an urgent professional call to the next town, but he will be back at eight o’clock this evening. He was preparing to arrange for some kind of a bond tomorrow morning, but it looked dubious. The money will settle everything.”
Ralph noticed a small safe in the room where he sat, and turned the thousand dollars over to the lawyer’s wife for safe keeping.
“That is better so,” said the lady. “Dorsett, the man who is making all this trouble, has employed three or four rough loafers in his service, and they have been watching every move my husband has made.”
“I think two of them followed me here,” explained Ralph.
“I hope you will watch out for yourself,” warned the lawyer’s wife anxiously. “Perhaps you had better remain here until my husband returns.”
“Oh, I am not a bit afraid,” said Ralph. “I want to look around town and perhaps go as far as the factory. Is it in operation?”
“No, it has been shut down since Mr. Glidden’s illness, but it is in charge of a faithful, honest old fellow, his foreman, a man named Bartlett.”
Ralph left the lawyer’s house and started in the direction of the factory as just indicated to him. It appeared to be located on the river, about half a mile from the center of the town.
In order to reach it he had to go back a few blocks towards the village. He saw no trace of the men who had followed him. As he passed an alley opening, however, he slowed up to watch the maneuvers of a man who interested him.
This was the man who had been knocked over in the street by the two men who had followed Ralph. He was standing near a barrel which seemed to be used as a receptacle for the kitchen refuse of a house near by. He had reached into it and picked out a piece of stale bread and lifted it to his lips.
“Don’t eat that,” said Ralph impulsively, slipping quickly to the side of the man.
The latter flushed up, put the scrap of food behind him and looked rather annoyed and angry. He did not have a good face, and it looked the worse because of his recent beating. Still, the man’s forlorn wretchedness appealed to the whole-hearted young railroader in a forcible way.
“What will I eat?” growled the man, scowling hard.
“You seem to be hungry--go and get a good meal somewhere.”
Ralph extended half a dollar. The man stared at it, then at Ralph.
“Crackey!” he said breathlessly--“do you mean it?”
“You had better go somewhere and wash the blood off your face first,” continued Ralph. “Here,” and he took out the little surgical case that all locomotive men carry with them. “Put a piece of that sticking plaster on that cut across your cheekbone. It was a pretty bad blow that fellow gave you.”
“Did you see him strike me?” inquired the man.
“Yes, and it appeared to be a brutal and uncalled for assault.”
“Say, that’s just what it was,” declared the man, getting excited. “I trained with that crowd and did their dirty work, and because I got a drop too much and blowed about the things we were going to do up to the factory, they dropped me.”
“What factory?” pressed Ralph.
“Glidden’s.”
“I was just going up there,” said Ralph. “It’s somewhere in this direction, isn’t it?”
“You’ll see the smokestack when you turn the next corner. Say,” demanded the fellow with a stare of interest at Ralph, “what you going there for? Looking for a job?”
“No,” replied Ralph, “I wanted to see it, that’s all. I am a friend of the man who owns it.”
“Oh, that’s it?” observed the man thoughtfully. “Well, he won’t own it tomorrow.”
“Why not?”
“Dorsett is going to get him, that’s why.”
“You mean seize on the factory, don’t you?” inquired Ralph.
The man stared at Ralph fixedly. He was silent for nearly two minutes. He seemed to be turning something over in his mind. He gazed at the coin Ralph had given him. Then he glanced over his shoulder to see if any lurker was watching them.
“See here,” he asked in a low tone, “you’re on Glidden’s side, of course?”
“Yes, strongly.”
“You’ve been good to me. Saved me from starving. I’ll do something for you. Between twelve and one o’clock tomorrow morning, Dorsett and his men are going to pull that factory up yonder to pieces.”
Ralph was a good deal startled at the statement of the man whom he had helped to some advantage, it seemed. He did not, however, show it. The man was grateful to him, and Ralph counted on his relating something further.
“I would be glad to have you tell me a little more about this business,” he said. “As I told you, I am a good deal interested in the welfare of Mr. Glidden.”
“Are, eh?” grinned the man. “So was I--in the wrong way. Just now it doesn’t matter one way or the other. The crowd Dorsett was working with has set me adrift, and I’ve got nothing to expect from them. What is it you want to know, guv’nor?”
“Just this,” answered Ralph--“any tricks they are up to that aren’t square.”
“Lots of those, guv’nor. Dorsett is bound to break up Glidden, if he can.”
“I know that; I understand he has bought up a big claim against Mr. Glidden and will put it into execution tomorrow if it isn’t paid.”
“That’s right.”
“And it will put Mr. Glidden to a lot of costs to redeem his plant.”
“Say, guv’nor,” here interrupted the man--“there’ll be no redeeming in the case.”
“Why not?”
“Because the money isn’t what Dorsett is after. He’s got lots of that. He simply wants to squeeze Glidden so close that he’ll holler and quit. He’s bent on rooting out the plant entire. Then when he’s got Glidden down in the mud, he expects he’ll sell him his secret chemical process for a mere song.”
“The scoundrel!” exclaimed Ralph hotly.
“I knew that long ago,” coolly chuckled the fellow. “If you’re interested, let me give you a tip.”
“I shall be thankful.”
“Get the lawyer to have some one stay all night at the plant.”
“There’s the foreman, Bartlett, I understand.”
“Yes, day times. You do as I say.”
“I’ll stay myself.”
“That might do. You are interested, aren’t you, mightily? Then so am I. Say, inasmuch as I’ve blabbed a part of it, out with the whole, say I. There’s going to be a raid on the factory, as I hinted to you, just after midnight.”
“A raid?”
“Exactly. To-morrow the time for Glidden to put up a bond or pay the four thousand dollars expires.”
“Yes,” replied Ralph, “and by ten o’clock, court time, it will be paid.”
“Too late.”
“Eh?”
“Hours too late--nigh on to half a day too late.”
“Why do you say that?”
“Because it’s a fact.”
“In what way?”
The man screwed his eyes up shrewdly as if he enjoyed making a clever disclosure. Then he said:
“Dorsett has made an arrangement with a drunken justice of the peace in the next township to open office at one minute after twelve, midnight. The justice will issue an execution. Inside of an hour Dorsett and his men will be at the factory. They don’t have to wait for court time. They intend to levy on the machinery only. They won’t put a custodian in charge nor wait for redemption nor anything else. They’ll simply rip out all those valuable tank machines and piping that cost a fortune, bid the plunder in at old junk prices and gobble up everything else before Glidden or his lawyer are awake and out of bed.”
“My man,” spoke Ralph rapidly, and moved to indignation and excitement almost beyond control, “are you sure of what you say?”
“As I was, up to this morning, one of the men who was to help in wrecking the plant, I reckon I know what I’m talking about,” answered the man.
“I will pay you to take me up to the plant,” said Ralph, “as quickly as you can.”
“You’ll pay me nothing,” replied the other. “You needn’t be afraid of any trouble until midnight. Dorsett is too keen to overslip the law in any way. His men may hang around and dog your footsteps and spy about and all that, but they’ll do no harm until Dorsett has the power right in his hands. Then--look out.”
“Yes, indeed,” said Ralph reflectively.
His guide went with him until they came to the factory. Here he left Ralph, saying he was almost starved and must get a good meal.
The factory was a grim-looking, isolated, one-story stone building. One end was rounded with brick and had heavy iron shutters. The front was a kind of office. Behind it was an iron partition and a windowless stretch of factory room fully fifty feet in length.
Ralph tried the front door and found it locked. In a minute or two, however, a big, stalwart man with a face of considerable character came from the inner room. He did not open the door, but stood at a window and called out:
“What do you want?”
“Are you Mr. Bartlett?” inquired Ralph.
“That’s me.”
“I am a friend to Mr. Glidden, and I come here from his lawyer.”
“Where’s the proof of it? I don’t know you,” said Bartlett guardedly.
“That’s so,” said Ralph, “and I am glad to find you so particular. My name is Fairbanks, and I come from the brother of Mr. Glidden, at Stanley Junction. I have a good deal to tell you, and wish you would come out and talk with me or let me in to talk to you.”
“You say the lawyer knows you?” inquired Bartlett warily.
“No, he doesn’t, but his wife does.”
“We’ll see about that--wait a minute.”
Ralph was made aware of the fact that the factory connected with the town by telephone, as the foreman of the plant proceeded to an instrument and took down the receiver. He could not hear the conversation that ensued, but very shortly Bartlett came to the door and invited him in.
“You’re all right, and you’re bringing some mighty good news, I hear,” he said heartily. “Sit down. I fancy that blatherskite, Dorsett, won’t sail so high tomorrow.”
“I fancy not, if things are done straight,” said Ralph, “but I just learned something that worries me a good deal.”
“What is that?”
Ralph told his story in detail. He recited what his tramp acquaintance had imparted to him. The sturdy foreman knit his brows, but he did not scare a bit. He walked slowly over to a closet, took out a new Winchester rifle, laid it across the top of the desk, and said quietly:
“I’ve got orders to admit no one here without an order from the lawyer up to ten o’clock tomorrow morning. The man who gets in before that time on any other conditions will be a dandy, I can tell you that.”
Ralph requested permission to use the telephone. He got in communication with the lawyer’s wife and told her of his new discoveries. Her husband had not yet returned, but as soon as he appeared she told Ralph she would send him up to the plant. Ralph informed her that he would not leave the factory until he heard from the lawyer.
It was getting dusk when a small boy came to the office door. He carried a basket and a note, which, after due challenge, Bartlett took into his possession. The lawyer’s wife had sent them a steaming hot supper, and told Ralph in the note to hold the fort, as she felt certain that her husband would arrive at Derby on either the eight or ten o’clock train.
Half an hour later, after they had lighted up, the foreman approached the door cautiously as some one else knocked at it.
“Who’s there?” he demanded.
“No one you know. The young fellow in there knows me, though. Tell him to look out of the window.”
Ralph pulled aside the shade and peered out, recognizing his tramp acquaintance of the afternoon.
“It’s the man who told me about this plot of Dorsett’s,” he said.
“One of the same gang, eh? I dunno,” remarked Bartlett dubiously. “Ain’t he a dangerous customer to let inside here?”
“He seems friendly, and he may have something more to tell us,” responded Ralph. “I hardly think we’ll take much risk admitting him.”
“Well, it’s just as you say, then.”
“Yes, let him in,” directed Ralph.
He regarded his tramp friend with some surprise and curiosity as the foreman admitted him. The man had got a clean shave and his face patched up, and apparently had a very satisfactory meal inside of him, for he was blandly cheerful and complacent.
“Saw three of our friends on my way here,” he said to Ralph.
“You mean Dorsett’s friends?”
“Yes. Two of them were down by the turnpike, probably watching to see if the lawyer or others might come here. The other fellow I spied hanging around the furnace room. He was on the roof once, but he just sneaked away.”
“What did you come here for?” inquired Bartlett bluntly.
“Oh, I took a kind of fancy to this young fellow. He did me a kind turn, and I’d like to return the compliment. Thought maybe there might be a ruction later, and if there is, I’m on your side. So count on me.”
With a grin and chuckle the speaker bunched up a fist that resembled a huge knot of mahogany.
“I think I had better ’phone the lawyer’s wife again,” suggested Ralph after a moment of thought. “Those fellows lurking around here might do the lawyer some harm.”
Ralph went to the telephone. As he took down the receiver and applied it to his ear his expert knowledge of telegraphy gave him a quick intuition.
“Hello,” he said, “we’re off the circuit. Worse than that--the instrument is dead.”
“Is that so?” said the tramp. “Then it explains what that sneaking fellow was doing on the roof. They’ve cut the telephone wires.”
The young railroader of Stanley Junction realized that he had assumed no ordinary risk or responsibility in acting the role of a trusted messenger in behalf of the old telegrapher in the train dispatcher’s office at headquarters.
The situation at Derby had become an exciting and a critical one. Here was Ralph, the factory foreman and this tramp acquaintance cut off from the town, isolated in a lonely spot and surrounded by desperate and dangerous men who were bent on a mission of wreck and ruin.
Bartlett looked a little blank. The tramp grinned as was his wont. He looked as if he would not be sorry to engage in the “ruction” he had talked about, to get even with his treacherous enemies.
Ralph had grown a trifle uneasy. If the lawyer did not put in an appearance, it was difficult to foresee how affairs would turn out. He did not rely much on Bartlett’s Winchester or the brawny fists of the tramp. The young train dispatcher had seen some pretty sharp and definite work done in the name of the law during a railroad strike, and from what he had heard of Dorsett he did not believe he would make a raid on the plant until he was very certain of successfully carrying out his wicked plans.
Ralph paced the floor of the little office lost in deep thought. The foreman watched him grimly from the corner of one eye. The tramp, lounging amid the unusual luxury of a big swivel chair, seemed enjoying hugely the comfort of the well-heated room and ready for anything that came along, now that he was no longer cold or hungry. He, too, watched Ralph, and as the latter with a kind of start: stopped in his walk and his face lightened up, the tramp drawled out:
“Something struck you, guv’nor--give it a voice.”
“You’re pretty sharp,” said Ralph, with a smile at the speaker. Then he walked over to the foreman. “Mr. Bartlett,” he continued, “I’d like to take a look through your plant here, if you’ve no objection.”
“None at all, only I wonder why?” submitted Bartlett, with a searching glance at Ralph.
“I was thinking of something,” explained Ralph--“how to beat those fellows who are coming here at midnight.”
“I hope you’ve hit it!” exclaimed the foreman eagerly.
“We shall see.”
Bartlett took a lantern, and leaving the tramp in the office he led Ralph into the large room adjoining. It was filled with long flat vats filled with some dark liquid. There was a sulphurous smell to the place. The foreman made no explanations until he reached the furnace room.
“You see those big tanks?” he spoke now. “Those are the melters. Mr. Glidden spent a great deal of money to get them right. Run up that ladder at the side and look over the rim.”
Ralph did so. The tank he looked into was filled with bars that looked like lead, with smaller fragments of a darker metal and great chunks that resembled resin. When he came down to the floor he opened the door of the furnace underneath and peered in. His face took on a satisfied look.
“See here,” said Bartlett, as they reëntered the big room on their way back to the office. “Those pipes running from each furnace convey the molten metal into those vats. There is a great hissing and bubbling, I can tell you. It’s a sort of red-hot cyaniding process. The fumes, though! No man could walk through this room when the pour is on and come out alive.”
“You don’t say so?” murmured Ralph. Then he went up close to the foreman and took him by lapel of his coat.
“Mr. Bartlett,” he said, “I see you are all ready to fire up.”
“At a minute’s notice,” replied the foreman, with a gleam of pride in his eye.
“I suppose within an hour, two hours, you could get those melters so hot they are red all through?”
“Pretty nigh, I tell you.”
“And you could fill this room here with fumes that would make a man hesitate about crossing the dead line, until you got ready to shut off the feeders?”
“You couldn’t hit it closer if you’d been brought up to the business,” declared the foreman with unction.
“Good. Now then--whisper.”
They were near the office door. Ralph talked rapidly in a low tone into the ear of his companion. The latter gave a great start. Then he grinned. Then, alive with animation, he clapped Ralph mightily on the back.
“Lad,” he cried with enthusiasm, “you’re better than the lawyer and the whole constable force of Derby put together.”
“What do you say about my plan?” inquired Ralph.
“Say--bully for you, that’s what I say!” almost shouted the factory foreman.
“If you start at eleven o’clock you’ll be ready when that gang arrives?”
“Ready, and time to spare. Say, but you’ve been thinking to some purpose.”
The foreman burst into a gay whistle as he reëntered the office. The tramp regarded him searchingly, and then looked at Ralph as if he half guessed that they were up to something. He was too indolent, however, to delve for the facts.
The lawyer did not put in an appearance, Ralph knew by the whistles just what trains were arriving at Derby. The 8 p. m. came and passed on its way. Then the 10:30. By five minutes of eleven Ralph decided that the lawyer must have missed connection in some way, for he did not arrive at the plant.
Just as the office clock struck eleven, Ralph arose from his chair and walked up in front of the tramp.
“Do you want to earn a few dollars?” he inquired.
“Sure, that’s me,” answered the man--“what doing?”
“Helping Mr. Bartlett here. It will be hot work, but he’ll do most of it, he tells me.”
“Oh, in the factory here.”
“Yes.”
“I’d rather stay here in the office and handle that Winchester when the mob comes,” observed the tramp.
“You can do ten times as much good doing what I want you to do.”
“Will it have anything to do with knocking out Dorsett’s plans?”
“Everything.”
The tramp arose to his feet like a jumping jack, his face wearing an eager grin.
“Guv’nor,” he said, “I’d trust you in most anything. I’d like to have a front seat out here to see the fun when the show begins, but if my being behind the scenes helps, depend on me.”
“I do,” said Ralph. “You go with Mr. Bartlett.”
Ralph sat down as the two men disappeared. He listened attentively to the sounds from the melting room. Soon the big blast chimney began to roar, and glancing out of the window Ralph could see fitful red gleams shoot out upon the snow.
There was a speaking tube running from the office to Bartlett’s post of duty. Soon it whistled, and the foreman announced:
“All ready.”
“So am I,” mused Ralph, as he counted the minutes roll away. He tried to imagine just what was going to happen and how he would meet the crisis when it arrived.
Midnight came, and one minute after twelve. Five, ten, fifteen minutes passed away. Then Ralph bent his ear. Some kind of a conveyance was coming down the turnpike. He could hear the ring of a horse’s hoofs and the hard wheels crunching the frozen snow.
Ralph picked up a newspaper and pretended to read it, looking as comfortable and unconcerned as possible.
“Whoa!” sounded a loud voice outside.
Then other voices mingled in confusion. Some one came to the window and peered in. There was a muffled consultation outside. Finally a thunderous knock sounded at the door, and a stentorian voice shouted out:
“Open--in the name of the law!”
Ralph instantly arose to his feet and unlocked the office door. He was about to open it when it was forcibly burst inwards in his grasp.
“We want to get in here,” vociferated a strident voice, and a consequential-looking little fellow, wearing his coat open so that a constable’s badge showed on his vest, swept over the threshold as if he was leading an army to an attack.
“Certainly,” said Ralph, with great politeness. “Come in, gentlemen--there’s a good fire and enough chairs, I guess.”
He was interested in quickly casting his eye over the marauding group. Six men had followed the constable in hot haste. One of them, who kept close to the officer, seemed to be his assistant. Four men, rough looking and with fiery breaths and faces, Ralph recognized as the group he had seen in the town that afternoon, two of whom had followed him to the lawyer’s house.
The real leader of the party, however, was a man whom Ralph had never seen before. He at once surmised that this was Dorsett. The latter pushed the others aside and stepped up to Ralph insolently.
“Who are you?” he demanded, with a scowl of suspicion and dislike.
“I represent the brother of Mr. Glidden.”
“Oh, you do?” sneered Dorsett. “I thought you was the office boy.”
“Representative, hey?” snapped out the constable quickly. “Stand aside, Mr. Dorsett. This is the very person I wish to see.”
The official made a great ado getting a bundle of papers out of his pocket. He selected one, flopped it open and fixed an imperious eye on Ralph.
“As agent de facto, ex officio, essettery, I present a demand against Henry William Glidden in the penal sum of four thousand one hundred and twenty-seven dollars and ninety-eight cents. Are you authorized to pay the same, deprosedendum, or forever hold your peace.”
“I have one thousand dollars at the home of the lawyer,” explained Ralph.
“Cash?” demanded the constable, licking his chops and blinking his eyes like a ravenous wolf at the mention of money.
“Yes, sir, and the balance will be here in Derby before court sits in the morning.”
“Court don’t sit any more in this case,” growled out Dorsett, who all along had regarded Ralph with a leery eye. “Here’s the court.”
“I say, Dorsett, the lad talks business. One thousand dollars ain’t to be sneezed at. So much on account, see? Just an appetizer. We’ll gobble the whole outfit finally. Um-m-m--” and his voice died away into a drone into the ear of Dorsett only, who shook his head with the forcible words:
“No. I won’t lose a minute. Get at your job instantly.”
“Ha-hum,” observed the constable, flapping the document in his hand importantly and again approaching Ralph. “Ipse dixit de profundis--you refuse to pay this just claim?”
“It will be paid within the legal limit of time,” answered Ralph.
“The legal limit of time has elapsed,” declared the constable, “as witness this document.”
“Then I suppose you take possession?” said Ralph. “That is all right. As soon as Mr. Glidden’s brother arrives he will put up the cash or a bond and redeem the plant.”
“That can’t be done,” observed the constable. “Practically we are already in possession. The plaintiff, however, has sued out a writ extraordinary. As assignee of the original seller of the melting tanks, which were purchased, not on open account but on contract, and the same held delinquent, he has here in this document a writ of replevin. We want those tanks. The balance will come later.”
“Very well, gentlemen,” said Ralph coolly, “if you are sure you are within your legal rights, go ahead.”
The constable’s assistant made a rush for the iron door.
“Only,” continued Ralph impressively, “don’t try it through that room.”
“Hey--why not?” demanded the constable, pricking up his ears.
“Because the corroding vats are in action, and one minute in that poisonous air would smother the last one of you.”
“Hah!” ejaculated the constable, “we shall see.”
He advanced to the iron door and lifted its hasped bar.
“Whew!” he gurgled, slamming it shut again, one whiff sending him reeling back as though he had been hit with a club.
“Tricked us, have you,” gritted Dorsett, darting a malevolent look at Ralph. “Get around to the rear, you four. Smash out those barred windows.”
“I submit,” interposed Ralph calmly, “that won’t do any good. The tanks are red hot and will remain so for many hours.”
“Baffled!” hissed the constable dramatically. “Dorsett, they’ve got the drop on you. No, no,” continued the official, lifting his hand as the infuriated Dorsett seemed about to dash out of the office bent on any destruction, so long as he carried out his evil designs, “law is law.”
“And you’ve got a writ to execute it, haven’t you?” yelled Dorsett.
“Not with violence, my dear sir--not with violence,” mildly intimated the constable. “I fear we have proceeded with undue haste. I assumed that the plant would be inactive.”
“It was, up to last evening.”
“On that hypothesis we took out a writ for immediate seizure of certain specified chattels. You may enter, seize, and distrain. You may stretch a point and force a door or smash a window, but you have no warrant to batter down a wall. If you did--red hot, see?” and with a rather sickly smile the speaker went through a pantomime of seizing and briskly dropping an overheated object.
“Then take possession,” commanded Dorsett stormily. “Get this young marplot out of here and let no more of his ilk in again.”
“Sorry,” retorted the constable, “but there again we have checkmated ourselves. Relying to your statements we took extreme measures to tear out the tanks and later put a custodian in charge. We cannot now legally enter here or remain here except on a new writ of possession.”
Now was Ralph’s hour of triumph and he could not refrain from smiling to himself. Dorsett noticed it and thrashed about like a madman. He did not assault the quiet unpretentious lad who held him and his scowling myrmidons at bay, but he looked as if he would like to have done so.
Finally Dorsett quieted down. He drew the constable to one side of the room and they held a rapid consultation. Then the constable’s assistant was beckoned to join them, and later two of Dorsett’s allies.
This trio left the office instructed by the constable to hasten to the magistrate in the next township who had issued the replevin writ, and secure a broader document for possession of the premises.
Calm fell over the place at their departure. Meantime the furnaces at the rear of the plant roared on merrily, and Ralph mentally calculated how long it would be before they cooled down and Dorsett got his itching fingers in play to cripple and destroy.
Perhaps an hour went by. The marauding party was lounging and dozing. Ralph bent his ear to listen as a locomotive whistle in the distance told of the passage of a train from the north.
The young dispatcher knew the schedule like a book. No train was due till daybreak. A second outburst of tooting signals informed and electrified him.
“A special!” he murmured, fired up magically. “Can it be possible--”
Ralph paused there, checking the wild thoughts, or rather hopes, that thronged his mind. He was thinking of the belated lawyer as well as of the old telegraph operator.
The office clock gave out three sharp strokes as there was a commotion. Some one tried the door. It was not locked and opened at the touch. Ralph jumped to his feet with an irrepressible cry of gladness.
Two men entered. One was the old headquarters dispatcher, Glidden. His companion, a peaked faced, shrewd eyed man, Ralph intuitively accepted as the Derby lawyer.
“Hello!” shot out the latter spicily--“visitors, friends. How’s this, Dorsett?”
“We’ve come to stay, that’s how it is,” growled out the man addressed.
“I think not,” spoke up Ralph quickly. “They have stolen a march on you, Mr. Glidden. They came with a replevin writ, found it of no effect, and have now sent to some renegade justice outside of the township for a writ of possession.”
“Have, eh?” said the lawyer. “Well, I fancy they won’t use it. Here, you, constable--what’s your authority?”
“Demand--four thousand one seventy-seven ninety-eight,” pronounced the official, waving a document.
“How is it, Mr. Glidden?” inquired the lawyer.
The old dispatcher rammed his hand in his shirt and drew out a formidable roll of bank notes.
“I’ve got thirty five hundred here,” he said. “Fairbanks has a thousand.”
“I left it in the safe up at your house,” explained Ralph to the lawyer.
“All right, I guess my check is good for that balance, eh, constable?”
“Yes, surely,” answered the officer obsequiously, thinking of further legal business.
“Cancel the judgment,” ordered the lawyer. “Now, then, Dorsett, I reckon we can dispense with your company.”
The baffled conspirators sneaked away with dark mutterings. The lawyer hailed through the speaking tube.
“I got so anxious I arranged for a special at Hillsdale,” explained Glidden to Ralph. “Just by luck I ran across the lawyer, waiting for a train.”
It was after Bartlett and the tramp had shut down the furnaces and appeared in the office room and the foreman explained Ralph’s clever plans of the night, that the lawyer approached the young train dispatcher and placed a friendly hand on his shoulder.
“Young man,” he said, “did you ever study law?”
“No, sir. Somewhere along the line I would like to, but just now railroading takes up my time.”
“H’m. Very good. Well, if you ever want to, I’ll give you a job.”
“Thank you, sir.”
“Yes,” added the lawyer, with a bright admiring glance at Ralph’s face, “in fact, after your clever work to-night, I think I would be willing to take you into partnership.”
“Tic-tac!”--“annul train 22--blockade at Fox Center”--“25-25-25-45 stalled at Morey Gap.” “Fast freight derailed--switch 19 outside of Abingdon.”
“Whew!” exploded the first trick man at dispatcher’s headquarters. “Did you get all that, Fairbanks?”
Ralph nodded, but did not speak. He was too busy for that. His hand was constantly on the key of his instrument, and his ear was bent with almost painful tension to catch every faint vibration of the wires. His eyes jumped with magic swiftness from chart to note sheet and train schedule. Ralph just now was a typical dispatcher in the midst of muddles, calls, cross-calls and piling up business enough to distract the average man. The young railroader confessed to himself that this was the busiest hour of his life.
It was a wild, stormy night outside, cozy enough in the warm, well-lighted dispatcher’s room. The wind without went howling by shrilly. Great sweeps of snow deluged the window panes. Whistles from the yards sounded hoarse and muffled. Inside that room skilled intelligence and vigilance controlled the midnight workings of the important Great Northern. In a picture view Ralph could see some belated locomotive breasting the drifts of lonely gully and curve. He could imagine a cumbersome freight feeling its way slowly past snow-clouded signals, marooned station men with their instruments knocked dead through fallen wires, and the venturesome repair crew wading through deep drifts to locate the break.
And a finger on the key controlled all this mix-up, and intent eye and brain tried to keep the various trains moving. As early as eight o’clock messages had begun to come in fast and thick telling of the great storm of wind and snow, the third of the season, that was sweeping over the Mountain Division of the Great Northern road.
At ten o’clock the commercial wires went out from Rockton, and a special operator now sat over in a corner of the dispatcher’s room at an extra instrument taking press news over a roundabout circuit. Everything went by jerks and starts. The insulation was bad and sometimes the sounders moved without giving out any intelligible vibration.
Towards eleven o’clock the rush was over on regular business, but the delayed train list began to pile up alarmingly. Everything was late. Within the next half hour two blockades, four stalled freights and two telegraph lines down were reported. It was now that Ralph was put distinctly on his mettle. Glidden watched him anxiously but admiringly from under his deep set eyebrows, and so far did not have to check up an error in orders or a mistake in judgment.
On either side of Ralph was a card. That on the right hand side had the names of all the stations from Stanley Junction to Rockton. The one on the left side had all the stations from Rockton to Stanley Junction. On both cards some of the stations had been crossed off, particularly on the right hand card. In fact only one station this side of terminus remained.
Glidden went quickly over to Ralph’s table as a message ticked out that both had been waiting for. With a somewhat triumphant smile Ralph checked off the last station with a dash of his pencil.
“Gone through, eh?” spoke Glidden with a grin.
“Safe and snug,” answered Ralph. “You heard--one hour late on account of the snow, but no attack.”
“Good thing for the conspirators,” observed Glidden. “Either they found out it was a trap or saw the half dozen armed guards inside.”
“Perhaps they fancied we knew too much and gave up the experiment of robbing the pay car.”
“Well, she’s through--now for the other one. How is it?”
“Heavy snow, but she’s making time,” reported Ralph, glancing at the remaining card. “83 is a hundred miles out of Rockton. Just passed Shoreham on the Mountain Division.”
“Say, those fellows will never guess what they’ve missed till it’s too late, hey?”
“It seems so,” nodded Ralph.
There was a lapse of messages now. Only the ceaseless grind of press dispatches clicked from the instrument over in the corner. Ralph sat back and took a breathing spell.
The pay car had gone through--the dummy pay car rather--which had left the Junction at eight o’clock that morning. It had been loaded up pretentiously with the apparent usual bags of coin and little safes that were used on regular trips. These, however, contained no money. The paymaster went aboard ostentatiously. The doors and windows were securely locked as usual. Inside, however, were half a dozen men armed to the teeth. The dummy pay car was a bait for the robbers. They had not appeared. The cypher message to Ralph just received told him that the train had reached terminus without hindrance or damage.
“Now for the other one,” Glidden had said. This meant a good deal. The “other one” was the real pay car, loaded with real treasure. To checkmate any possible attack, the railroad officials with great secrecy had loaded up an ordinary baggage car with the pay safes and bullion in transit for banks. It was proposed to distribute this in parcels at section centers out of the usual routine.
So far it looked as if it would be smooth sailing except for the snow storm. No. 83 was reported as having passed over one hundred miles on the route. There was a train hand on guard on the front platform of the car and two guards inside, according to the advices Ralph had received.
The impromptu pay car had been hitched to the rear of a long train of milk cars. This had been done because she was to be switched at four different points before she reached Stanley Junction. The pay safes had been boxed up and burlapped, giving the appearance of ordinary freight.
There was some inconsequential messages during the ensuing half hour. Then a chance to tally on the route card on Ralph’s table as No. 83 was reported to have passed Fletcher, one hundred and twenty-five miles out of Rockton.
Then the commercial wire slowed down for a spell. The operator got up, stretching his cramped fingers.
“Snow two feet on the level at Rockton,” he reported, “and coming down like an avalanche. Why don’t they send me 30? I’ve got the grist up to 29. Hello, here she comes. No, she don’t. Another item.”
The operator jumped to his instrument and began to flimsy the message. Ralph arose sharply from his chair. He had lost most of the message, but one part of it had caught his hearing.
It startled him, for a name had tapped out clear and distinct, a familiar name--Glen Palmer.