coolly, seizing and detaining Ralph's arm. "You're trying to overtake a friend, aren't you?"
"Why, how do you know that?" exclaimed Ralph in surprise.
"Name, Van—Van Sherman. No, Sherwin—that's it. Am I right?"
"Why, yes," admitted Ralph in a tone of wonderment, "but how you come to know"
"I do know, don't I?" projected Slavin, with a shrewd smile. "This way for a minute, please."
He led Ralph out of range of the switch shanty. Then, buttonholing him persuasively, he said:
"Fairbanks, I know a good deal more about your affairs to-day than I did yesterday. Mightily glad I am of it. You'd ought to be, too. It's this way: I ran across that friend of yours last night."
"You mean Van Sherwin?"
"That's just what I do mean," responded Slavin. "It was queer, but I was nosing around the jail for some point on those fellows Slump and Bemis. I was very anxious to find out how they would act regarding old Farrington. It appears they sent messages to him. I know that much. But he didn't show up. I noticed a stranger hanging around, just as I was doing. His actions aroused my suspicions. Well, it led to our getting acquainted, cautiously. You know
