"Then you have secured work, Zeph?"
"Steady work, Mrs. Fairbanks."
"What at, Zeph?"
"Mrs. Fairbanks," answered the lad in a hushed, mysterious tone of voice, "I am hired as a detective."
"You're what?" fairly shouted Ralph through the window.
"Hello! you here, are you?" cried Zeph, and in a twinkling he had joined Ralph outside the house. "Yes, sir," he added, with an important air that somewhat amused Ralph, "I've landed this time. On both feet. Heart's desire at last—I'm a detective."
Ralph had to smile. He recalled the first arrival of honest but blundering Zeph Dallas at Stanley Junction, a raw country bumpkin. Even then the incipient detective fever had been manifested by the crude farmer boy. From the confident, self-assured tone in which Zeph now spoke, the young railroader was forced to believe that he had struck something tangible at last in his favorite line.
"What are you detecting, Zeph?" he inquired.
"That's a secret."
"Indeed—and what agency are you working for—the government?"
"That," observed Zeph gravely, "is also a secret—
