"Oh, be sure to let me know if you get back those papers, won't you?" pressed the old woman anxiously.
"I certainly shall," promised Ralph.
He bade mother and son good-bye. Then Ralph proceeded in the direction of the old Farrington factory.
Great crowds lined the ravine and surrounded the site of the factory. This had been burned to the ground. The ravine in places was still a nest of fire, but the flames were confined there. The fires in the grass and in the shrubbery had been beaten out.
Ralph passed from crowd to crowd, gleaming many a bit of exciting gossip.
He heard a local insurance agent say that the fire had done damage to the extent of a hundred thousand dollars. The factory represented the bulk of the loss.
"And no insurance, did you say?" someone asked the agent.
"Not on the building. The insurance expired there only last week."
Ralph finally found the person he was in search of—Slavin. He had made up his mind that something must be done promptly in regard to the documents stolen from Mrs. Davis' tin box.
