hypocritical old man. You have no interest in my welfare—you are after our little property, because you have learned that the railroad may soon pay a big price for it. You want us out of Stanley Junction, because you are afraid we may find out something about your dealings with my dead father. To carry your point, you threaten me—me, a poor boy, just starting in to win his way by hard work—you threaten to plot against and ruin me. Very well, Mr. Farrington, go ahead. I have too much reliance in the teachings of a good mother to believe that you will succeed."
"What! what!" shouted the magnate, almost choking with rage and mortification at this unvarnished arraignment, "you dare to tell me this? In my own house!"
"You invited me here," suggested Ralph.
"Get out—get out!" cried Farrington, running to the door for his cane.
"You will fail," spoke Ralph, going down the steps. "You won't gag me as you have others. As you did"
Like an inspiration a suggestion came to Ralph Fairbanks' mind at that moment.
It seemed as if he had right before his eyes once more the mysterious, blurred letter that Van had brought. He recalled one of its last words. He had mistaken it for "Farewell." Now the
