“Under the bed is my box of private papers. Unknown to Bartlett, last week, suspecting his scheme to rob me, believing I was dying, I executed deeds that distributed my property among those whom I had wronged. One deed is 244 for your mother to adjust that twenty thousand dollar claim. Another is for a poor fellow I sent to jail—an innocent man. Another places my property in trust with your lawyer. Here they are,” and Farrington took some documents from the box that Ralph had handed him. “Now then, act quickly.”
Ralph looked over the papers. They were what the magnate described. He went outside and saw the convict, showing him the deed containing the name of “John Vance.”
“Is that your name?” asked Ralph.
“It is,” assented the convict.
“Then Farrington has done you tardy justice,” and he explained the situation.
In a few minutes the young fireman was bounding away towards Wilmer.
Ralph caught a train just as it was moving away from the depot. He did not venture inside the cars, for he saw that Bartlett was aboard, but at the next station proceeded to the locomotive.
When the train reached the limits at Stanley Junction, Ralph left it and boarded an engine on another track bound for the depot.
He reached it some minutes in advance of the other locomotive. A hurried run for the office of the recorder, a swift delivery of the deeds, and then Ralph hastened after the town marshal. 245
They came upon Bartlett leaving the office of the recorder with a glum and puzzled face. In his hand in a listless way he held some deeds which he had evidently been told were worthless.