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88 switch tower. In a stupid, solemn sort of way he scanned its side, trying to determine where its entrance was located. Ralph stuck his head out of the window.

"Hello, there!" he hailed.

"Hello, yerself!" retorted Slavin, finding some difficulty in steadying himself as he crooked his neck to make out his challenger. "Who's that? Fill my heart with joy by just telling me it's the fellow I'm looking for—young Fairbanks!"

"That is who it is," responded Ralph promptly. "Want me?"

"Do I!" chuckled Slavin, cutting a pigeon-wing and giving a free exhibition of pugilist fist play. "Oh, don't I! Business, strictly business—young man. Will you come down, or shall I come up?"

"I don't want to see you bad enough to come down," observed Ralph. "As to coming up, I warn you not to attempt it, just at present."

"Afraid, eh?" jeered Slavin.

"Was I the other night?" asked Ralph pointedly.

"That was a foul," cried Slavin wrathfully. "I've come for satisfaction now, and I'm going to have it."

"Not in working hours, and not here," declared Ralph definitely. "Hold on, Slavin!" he called