It was shortly after dark, and Ralph was reading a book in the cozy sitting room of the home cottage, when the door bell rang.
The young fireman answered the summons. A stranger stood at the threshold. He was a dignified, well-dressed gentleman, but seemed to be laboring under some severe mental strain, for he acted nervous and agitated.
"Mr. Fairbanks—Ralph Fairbanks?" he inquired in a tone of voice that quivered slightly.
"Yes," replied the young fireman.
"I am very anxious to have a talk with you," said the stranger hurriedly. "I have been down the line, and have just arrived at Stanley Junction. My name is Grant, Robert Grant, and I am the president of the Great Northern Railroad."
"Come in, sir," said Ralph cordially, deeply impressed with welcoming so important a visitor, but maintaining his usual manly pose. He showed the official into the house and introduced him to his mother.
Mr. Grant was soon in the midst of his story. He had been for many hours at Dover trying to discover a trace of his missing nephew, and had signally failed.
"Mr. Adair, the road detective, advised me to see you," said Mr. Grant, "for you saw the men
