"I would feel it a duty, Van," responded Ralph promptly. "I believe my mother would, too. You will remember that if it was not for Mr. Gibson, we would probably be without a home to-day."
"You're a good fellow, Ralph Fairbanks!" cried Van, slapping his chum heartily on the shoulder. "I knew you'd say that. And say--I guess you're going to hear something about those bonds, soon."
"The air seems full of those bonds!" half smiled Ralph. "I wish something besides shadows would materialize, though."
Ralph felt that Van was keeping something back--certainly about the person so interested in the mysterious Mrs. Davis, possibly in reference to the railroad bonds, as well.
Before he could express himself further, Van grabbed his sleeve and pulled him into the shelter of the summerhouse with a quick warning:
"S-sh!"
"What is it, Van?" inquired Ralph in surprise.
"Speak low, look sharp!" whispered Van, pointing through the interstices of the trellis in the direction of the house. "You hate mystery, you say. Then how does that strike you?"
"Why," exclaimed Ralph, after a steadfast glance in the direction indicated--"it is Gasper Farrington!"