"I am very glad to welcome you," said the lady. "And I am glad of the good news you bring. My husband and I are deeply interested in Mr. Glidden's business affairs. My husband had an urgent professional call to the next town, but he will be back at eight o'clock this evening. He was preparing to arrange for some kind of a bond tomorrow morning, but it looked dubious. The money will settle everything." Ralph noticed a small safe in the room where he sat, and turned the thousand dollars over to the lawyer's wife for safe keeping. "That is better so," said the lady. "Dorsett, the man who is making all this trouble, has employed three or four rough loafers in his service, and they have been watching every move my husband has made." "I think two of them followed me here," explained Ralph. "I hope you will watch out for yourself," warned the lawyer's wife anxiously. "Perhaps you had better remain here until my husband returns." "Oh, I am not a bit afraid," said Ralph. "I want to look around town and perhaps go as far as the factory. Is it in operation?" "No, it has been shut down since Mr. Glidden's illness, but it is in charge of a faithful, honest old fellow, his foreman, a man named Bartlett." Ralph left the lawyer's house and started in the direction of the factory as just indicated to him. It appeared to be located on the river, about half a mile from the center of the town. In order to reach it he had to go back a few blocks towards the village. He saw no trace of the men who had followed him. As he passed an alley opening, however, he slowed up to watch the maneuvers of a man who interested him. This was the man who had been knocked over in the street by the two men who had followed Ralph. He was standing near a barrel which seemed to be used as a receptacle for the kitchen refuse of a house near by. He had reached into it and picked out a piece of stale bread and lifted it to his lips. "Don't eat that," said Ralph impulsively, slipping quickly to the side of the man. The latter flushed up, put the scrap of food behind him and looked rather annoyed and angry. He did not have a good face, and it looked the worse because of his recent beating. Still, the man's forlorn wretchedness appealed to the whole-hearted young railroader in a forcible way. "What will I eat?" growled the man, scowling hard. "You seem to be hungry--go and get a good meal somewhere." Ralph extended half a dollar. The man stared at it, then at Ralph. "Crackey!" he said breathlessly--"do you mean it?" "You had better go somewhere and wash the blood off your face first," continued Ralph. "Here," and he took out the little surgical case that all locomotive men carry with them. "Put a piece of that sticking plaster on that cut across your cheekbone. It was a pretty bad blow that fellow gave you." "Did you see him strike me?" inquired the man. "Yes, and it appeared to be a brutal and uncalled for assault."