Part 45 (1/2)
”The cancellation of the mortgage on my mother's home, and the alleged forged note upon which Mr. Farrington bases a criminal charge against one Farwell Gibson.”
”Why!” exclaimed the lawyer, very much amazed. ”What has Farwell Gibson got to do with this matter?”
”Mr. Black,” replied Ralph, ”I can not tell you that. You have my terms. Mr. Farrington is a bad man. He can make some rest.i.tution by giving me those two doc.u.ments. That ends it, so far as we are concerned.”
”And if he does not agree to your terms?” insinuated the lawyer.
”I shall go to some other lawyer at once, and expose him publicly,” said Ralph.
Mr. Black reflected for some moments. Then he arose, took up his hat, and said:
”Remain here till I return, Fairbanks. Mr. Farrington has been sick for some days----”
”I should think he would be!” murmured Ralph, to himself.
”But this is an important matter, and can not brook delay. I will see him at once.”
Ralph had to wait nearly an hour. When the lawyer returned he closed the office door and faced his visitor seriously.
”Fairbanks,” he said, ”I have faith in your honor, or I would never advise my client to do as he has done. You are sure you control this matter sufficiently to prevent any further trouble being made for Mr.
Farrington, or any unnecessary publicity of this affair?”
”Yes,” a.s.sented Ralph pointedly--”unless I ever find out that we have any just claim to the twenty thousand dollars in railroad bonds which once belonged to my father.”
”I fancy that is a dead issue,” said the lawyer, with a dry smile. ”Very well, there are your papers.”
He handed Ralph an unsealed envelope. Ralph glanced inside.
Gasper Farrington had been forced to swallow a bitter dose of humiliation and defeat.
The inclosures were the Farwell Gibson forged note, and a deed of release which gave to Ralph's mother her homestead, free and clear.
CHAPTER x.x.xV--CONCLUSION
Ralph stepped across the turntable entrance to the roundhouse at Stanley Junction just as the one o'clock whistles were blowing.
It was like coming home again. Limpy, s.h.i.+ning up a locomotive headlight, gave a croak of welcome, jumped down from the pilot, and slapped his greasy, blackened hand into that of his young favorite with genuine fervor.
The engineers, firemen and extras in the dog house called out the usual variety of cheery chaff, but all pleasant and interested.
”This is a great place to find friends!” smiled Ralph, and then hurried his steps, for the roundhouse foreman at that moment appeared at the door of his little office.
”This way, Fairbanks,” he hailed, quite eagerly. ”Well,” as he ushered Ralph into the grimy sanctum, ”back again, I see?”
”Yes, Mr. Forgan,” answered Ralph, ”and glad to be here.”
”What news?”
”About the stolen plunder,” began Ralph.