Gasper Farrington in that
wire-tapping scheme."

CHAPTER XXXI

JUSTICE AT LAST--CONCLUSION

Ralph lost no time in making up his mind to at once go to Trafton and
endeavor to run down Bartlett. He was the friend and confidant of
Gasper Farrington, and the latter the young fireman was now determined
to find.

He had his troubles for his pains. He got a trace of Bartlett at
Trafton, but lost it again. His final clew was that Bartlett had last
been seen driving away from town in a covered wagon.

Ralph devoted the morning to these discoveries, then he made for the
home of Amos Greenleaf. He cut across the timber for ten miles, and
late in the afternoon reached the miserable hovel where the crippled
railroader lived.

It was when he was within a few rods of the place that a voice hailed
him.

"This way, Mr. Fairbanks, I have something to tell you."

Ralph went to a copse near at hand where the speaker stood, as if in
hiding. It was the escaped convict. He was deeply excited.

"I wanted to prepare you for a surprise before you went into the
house," said the convict.

"Why, what do you mean?" asked Ralph.

"I mean Farrington!" cried the convict. "He is there."

"Impossible!" exclaimed Ralph.

"No, it is true."

"How did he happen to come here?"

"A man driving a covered wagon brought him. Farrington was sick,
dying. The other man carried him into the house and said he would
hurry for a doctor."

"When was this?" asked Ralph.

"Two hours ago. I have not shown myself to Farrington yet. The man is
certainly in a dying condition."

"I had better investigate affairs," said Ralph, and he proceeded to
the house.

Gasper Farrington lay on a wretched cot in a little bedroom. Ralph was
amazed at the change in the magnate since he had last seen him.
Farrington was thin, pale and weak. He was gasping painfully for
breath, and groaned wretchedly as he recognized his visitor.

"Why, Mr. Farrington," said Ralph, "you are a very sick man."

"I am dying, Ralph Fairbanks," moaned the stricken Farrington. "You
have your revenge."

"I wish for no revenge--I truly am sorry to see you in this
condition."

"Well, here I am," groaned Farrington--"a miserable wreck, dying in a
wretched hovel, the end of all my plotting, and worst of all, robbed
of everything I own."

"By whom?" asked Ralph.

"By Bartlett, who has abandoned me. I know it, and only this morning
he got from me the deeds conveying all my proper