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Aunt Jane's Nieces Out West
By
L. Frank Baum
(AKA Edith Van Dyne)
Contents
CHAPTER
I - CAUGHT BY THE CAMERA
CHAPTER
III - AN ATTRACTIVE GIRL
CHAPTER
IV - AUNT JANE'S NIECES
CHAPTER
V - A THRILLING RESCUE
CHAPTER
VIII - THE MAGIC OF A NAME
CHAPTER
XI - A DAMSEL IN DISTRESS
CHAPTER
XII - PICTURES, GIRLS AND NONSENSE.
CHAPTER
XIV - ISIDORE LE DRIEUX
CHAPTER
XVII - UNCLE JOHN IS PUZZLED
CHAPTER
XVIII - DOUBTS AND DIFFICULTIES
CHAPTER
XIX - MAUD MAKES A MEMORANDUM
CHAPTER
XXI - THE YACHT "ARABELLA".
CHAPTER
XXII - MASCULINE AND FEMININE
CHAPTER
XXIII - THE ADVANTAGE OF A DAY
CHAPTER
XXIV - PICTURE NUMBER NINETEEN
CHAPTER
XXVI - SUNSHINE AFTER RAIN
"This is get=
ting
to be an amazing old world," said a young girl, still in her
"teens," as she musingly leaned her chin on her hand.
"It has alwa=
ys
been an amazing old world, Beth," said another girl who was sitting on=
the
porch railing and swinging her feet in the air.
"True,
Patsy," was the reply; "but the people are doing such peculiar th=
ings
nowadays."
"Yes, yes!&q=
uot;
exclaimed a little man who occupied a reclining chair within hearing distan=
ce;
"that is the way with you young folks--always confounding the world wi=
th
its people."
"Don't the
people make the world, Uncle John?" asked Patricia Doyle, looking at h=
im
quizzically.
"No, indeed;=
the
world could get along very well without its people; but the people--" =
"To be sure;
they need the world," laughed Patsy, her blue eyes twinkling so that t=
hey
glorified her plain, freckled face.
"Nevertheles=
s,"
said Beth de Graf, soberly, "I think the people have struck a rapid pa=
ce
these days and are growing bold and impudent. The law appears to allow them=
too
much liberty. After our experience of this morning I shall not be surprised=
at
anything that happens--especially in this cranky state of California."=
"To what
experience do you allude, Beth?" asked Uncle John, sitting up straight=
and
glancing from one to another of his two nieces. He was a genial looking,
round-faced man, quite bald and inclined to be a trifle stout; yet his
fifty-odd years sat lightly upon him.
"Why, we had
quite an adventure this morning," said Patsy, laughing again at the
recollection, and answering her uncle because Beth hesitated to. "For =
my
part, I think it was fun, and harmless fun, at that; but Beth was scared ou=
t of
a year's growth. I admit feeling a little creepy at the time, myself; but it
was all a joke and really we ought not to mind it at all."
"Tell me all
about it, my dear!" said Mr. Merrick, earnestly, for whatever affected=
his
beloved nieces was of prime importance to him.
"We were tak=
ing
our morning stroll along the streets," began Patsy, "when on turn=
ing
a corner we came upon a crowd of people who seemed to be greatly excited. M=
ost
of them were workmen in flannel shirts, their sleeves rolled up, their hands
grimy with toil. These stood before a brick building that seemed like a
factory, while from its doors other crowds of workmen and some shopgirls we=
re
rushing into the street and several policemen were shaking their clubs and
running here and there in a sort of panic. At first Beth and I stopped and
hesitated to go on, but as the sidewalk seemed open and fairly free I pulle=
d Beth
along, thinking we might discover what the row was about. Just as we got
opposite the building a big workman rushed at us and shouted: 'Go back--go
back! The wall is falling.'
"Well, Uncle,
you can imagine our dismay. We both screamed, for we thought our time had c=
ome,
for sure. My legs were so weak that Beth had to drag me away and her face w=
as
white as a sheet and full of terror. Somehow we managed to stagger into the
street, where a dozen men caught us and hurried us away. I hardly thought we
were in a safe place when the big workman cried: 'There, young ladies; that
will do. Your expression was simply immense and if this doesn't turn out to=
be
the best film of the year, I'll miss my guess! Your terror-stricken features
will make a regular hit, for the terror wasn't assumed, you know. Thank you
very much for happening along just then.'"
Patsy stopped her
recital to laugh once more, with genuine merriment, but her cousin Beth see=
med
annoyed and Uncle John was frankly bewildered.
"But--what--=
what--was
it all about?" he inquired.
"Why, they w=
ere
taking a moving picture, that was all, and the workmen and shopgirls and
policemen were all actors. There must have been a hundred of them, all told,
and when we recovered from our scare I could hear the machine beside me
clicking away as it took the picture."
"Did the wall
fall?" asked Uncle John.
"Not just th=
en.
They first got the picture of the rush-out and the panic, and then they sto=
pped
the camera and moved the people to a safe distance away. We watched them se=
t up
some dummy figures of girls and workmen, closer in, and then in some way th=
ey
toppled over the big brick wall. It fell into the street with a thundering
crash, but only the dummies were buried under the debris."
Mr. Merrick drew a
long breath.
"It's
wonderful!" he exclaimed. "Why, it must have cost a lot of money =
to ruin
such a building--and all for the sake of a picture!"
"That's what=
I
said to the manager," replied Patsy; "but he told us the building=
was
going to be pulled down, anyhow, and a better one built in its place; so he
invented a picture story to fit the falling walls and it didn't cost him so
much as one might think. So you see, Uncle, we are in that picture--big as =
life
and scared stiff--and I'd give a lot to see how we look when we're positive=
ly
terror-stricken."
"It will cost
you just ten cents," remarked Beth, with a shrug; "that is, if the
picture proves good enough to be displayed at one of those horrid little
theatres."
"One?" =
said
Uncle John. "One thousand little theatres, most likely, will show the
picture, and perhaps millions of spectators will see you and Patsy running =
from
the falling wall."
"Dear me!&qu=
ot;
wailed Patsy. "That's more fame than I bargained for. Do millions go to
see motion pictures, Uncle?"
"I believe s=
o. The
making of these pictures is getting to be an enormous industry. I was
introduced to Otis Werner, the other day, and he told me a good deal about =
it.
Werner is with one of the big concerns here--the Continental, I think--and =
he's
a very nice and gentlemanly fellow. I'll introduce you to him, some time, a=
nd
he'll tell you all the wonders of the motion picture business."
"I haven't
witnessed one of those atrocious exhibitions for months," announced Be=
th;
"nor have I any desire to see one again."
"Not our own
special picture?" asked Patsy reproachfully.
"They had no
right to force us into their dreadful drama," protested Beth. "Mo=
tion
pictures are dreadfully tiresome things--comedies and tragedies alike. They=
are
wild and weird in conception, quite unreal and wholly impossible. Of course=
the
scenic pictures, and those recording historical events, are well enough in
their way, but I cannot understand how so many cheap little picture theatres
thrive."
"They are the
poor people's solace and recreation," declared Mr. Merrick. "The
picture theatre has become the laboring man's favorite resort. It costs him=
but
five or ten cents and it's the sort of show he can appreciate. I'm told the
motion picture is considered the saloon's worst enemy, for many a man is ta=
king
his wife and children to a picture theatre evenings instead of joining a ga=
ng
of his fellows before the bar, as he formerly did."
"That is the
best argument in their favor I have ever heard," admitted Beth, who was
strong on temperance; "but I hope, Uncle, you are not defending the
insolent methods of those picture-makers."
"Not at all,=
my
dear. I consider the trapping of innocent bystanders to be--eh--er--highly
reprehensible, and perhaps worse. If I can discover what picture manager was
guilty of the act, I shall--shall--"
"What,
Uncle?"
"I shall hint
that he owes you an apology," he concluded, rather lamely.
Beth smiled
scornfully.
"Meantime,&q=
uot;
said she, "two very respectable girls, who are not actresses, will be
exhibited before the critical eyes of millions of stupid workmen, reformed
drunkards, sad-faced women and wiggling children--not in dignified attitude=
s,
mind you, but scurrying from what they supposed was an imminent danger.&quo=
t;
"I hope it w=
ill
do the poor things good to see us," retorted Patsy. "To be strict=
ly
honest, Beth, we were not trapped at all; we were the victims of circumstan=
ces.
When I remember how quick-witted and alert that manager was, to catch us
unawares and so add to the value of his picture, I can quite forgive the fe=
llow
his audacity."
"It wasn't
audacity so much as downright impudence!" persisted Beth.
"I quite agr=
ee
with you," said Mr. Merrick. "Do you wish me to buy that film and
prevent the picture's being shown?"
"Oh, no!&quo=
t;
cried Patsy in protest. "I'm dying to see how we look. I wouldn't have
that picture sidetracked for anything."
"And you,
Beth?"
"Really, Unc=
le
John, the thing is not worth worrying over," replied his niece. "=
I am
naturally indignant at being drawn into such a thing against my will, but I
doubt if anyone who knows us, or whose opinion we value, will ever visit a
moving picture theatre or see this film. The common people will not recogni=
ze
us, of course."
You must not think
Beth de Graf was snobbish or aristocratic because of this speech, which her=
cousin
Patsy promptly denounced as "snippy." Beth was really a lovable a=
nd
sunny-tempered girl, very democratic in her tastes in spite of the fact that
she was the possessor of an unusual fortune. She was out of sorts to-day,
resentful of the fright she had endured that morning and in the mood to say
harsh things.
Even Patricia Doy=
le
had been indignant, at first; but Patsy's judgment was clearer than her
cousin's and her nature more responsive. She quickly saw the humorous side =
of
their adventure and could enjoy the recollection of her momentary fear.
These two girls w=
ere
spending the winter months in the glorious climate of Southern California,
chaperoned by their uncle and guardian, John Merrick. They had recently
established themselves at a cosy hotel in Hollywood, which is a typical
California village, yet a suburb of the great city of Los Angeles. A third
niece, older and now married--Louise Merrick Weldon--lived on a ranch betwe=
en
Los Angeles and San Diego, which was one reason why Uncle John and his wards
had located in this pleasant neighborhood.
To observe this
trio--the simple, complacent little man and his two young nieces--no strang=
er
would suspect them to be other than ordinary tourists, bent on escaping the
severe Eastern winter; but in New York the name of John Merrick was spoken =
with
awe in financial circles, where his many millions made him an important fig=
ure.
He had practically retired from active business and his large investments w=
ere
managed by his brother-in-law, Major Gregory Doyle, who was Miss Patsy's fa=
ther
and sole surviving parent. All of Mr. Merrick's present interest in life
centered in his three nieces, and because Louise was happily married and had
now an establishment of her own--including a rather new but very remarkable=
baby--Uncle
John was drawn closer to the two younger nieces and devoted himself wholly =
to
their welfare.
The girls had not
been rich when their fairy godfather first found them. Indeed, each of them=
had
been energetically earning, or preparing to earn, a livelihood. Now, when t=
heir
uncle's generosity had made them wealthy, they almost regretted those former
busy days of poverty, being obliged to discover new interests in life in or=
der
to keep themselves occupied and contented. All three were open-handed and o=
pen-hearted,
sympathetic to the unfortunate and eager to assist those who needed money, =
as
many a poor girl and worthy young fellow could testify. In all their charit=
ies
they were strongly supported by Mr. Merrick, whose enormous income permitted
him to indulge in many benevolences. None gave ostentatiously, for they were
simple, kindly folk who gave for the pure joy of giving and begrudged all
knowledge of their acts to anyone outside their own little circle.
There is no doubt
that John Merrick was eccentric. It is generally conceded that a rich man m=
ay
indulge in eccentricities, provided he maintains a useful position in socie=
ty,
and Mr. Merrick's peculiarities only served to render him the more interest=
ing
to those who knew him best. He did astonishing things in a most matter-of-f=
act
way and acted more on impulse than on calm reflection; so it is not to be
wondered at that the queer little man's nieces had imbibed some of his
queerness. Being by nature lively and aggressive young women, whose eager
interest in life would not permit them to be idle, they encountered many in=
teresting
experiences.
They had just come
from a long visit to Louise at the ranch and after conferring gravely toget=
her
had decided to hide themselves in Hollywood, where they might spend a quiet=
and
happy winter in wandering over the hills, in boating or bathing in the ocea=
n or
motoring over the hundreds of miles of splendid boulevards of this section.=
Singularly enough,
their choice of a retreat was also the choice of a score or more of motion
picture makers, who had discovered Hollywood before them and were utilizing=
the
brilliant sunshine and clear atmosphere in the production of their films, w=
hich
were supplied to picture theatres throughout the United States and Europe.
Appreciating the value of such a monster industry, the authorities permitted
the cameras to be set up on the public streets or wherever there was an app=
ropriate
scene to serve for a background to the photo-plays. It was no unusual sight=
to
see troops of cowboys and Indians racing through the pretty village or to f=
ind
the cameraman busy before the imposing residence of a millionaire or the
vine-covered bungalow of a more modest citizen. No one seemed to resent such
action, for Californians admire the motion picture as enthusiastically as do
the inhabitants of the Eastern states, so the girls' "adventure" =
was
really a common incident.
It was the follow=
ing
afternoon when Uncle John captured his casual acquaintance, Mr. Otis Werner=
, in
the office of the hotel and dragged the motion picture man away to his room=
s to
be introduced to his nieces.
"Here, my de=
ars,
is Mr. Werner," he began, as he threw open the door of their apartment=
and
escorted his companion in. "He is one of those picture makers, you'll
remember, and--and--"
He paused abruptl=
y,
for Beth was staring at Mr. Werner with a frown on her usually placid featu=
res,
while Patsy was giggling hysterically. Mr. Werner, a twinkle of amusement in
his eye, bowed with exaggerated deference.
"Dear me!&qu=
ot;
said Uncle John. "Is--is anything wrong!"
"No; it's all
right, Uncle," declared Patsy, striving to control a fresh convulsion =
of
laughter. "Only--this is the same dreadful manager who dragged us into=
his
picture yesterday."
"I beg your
pardon," said Mr. Werner; "I'm not a manager; I'm merely what is
called in our profession a 'producer,' or a 'stage director.'"
"Well, you're
the man, anyhow," asserted Patsy. "So what have you to say for
yourself, sir?"
"If you were
annoyed, I humbly apologize," he returned. "Perhaps I was uninten=
tionally
rude to frighten you in that way, but my excuse lies in our subservience to=
the
demands of our art. We seldom hesitate at anything which tends to give our
pictures the semblance of reality."
"Art, did yo=
u say,
Mr. Werner?" It was Beth who asked this and there was a bit of a sneer=
in
her tone.
"It is really
art--art of the highest character," he replied warmly. "Do you
question it, Miss--Miss--"
"Miss de Gra=
f. I
suppose, to be fair, I must admit that the photography is art; but the subj=
ects
of your pictures, I have observed, are far from artistic. Such a picture, f=
or
instance, as you made yesterday can have little value to anyone."
"Little valu=
e!
Why, Miss de Graf, you astonish me," he exclaimed. "I consider th=
at
picture of the falling wall one of my greatest triumphs--and I've been maki=
ng
pictures for years. Aside from its realism, its emotional nature--'thrills,=
' we
call it--this picture conveys a vivid lesson that ought to prove of great
benefit to humanity."
Beth was looking =
at
him curiously now. Patsy was serious and very attentive. As Uncle John asked
his visitor to be seated his voice betrayed the interest he felt in the
conversation.
"Of course we
saw only a bit of the picture," said Patsy Doyle. "What was it all
about, Mr. Werner?"
"We try,&quo=
t;
said he, slowly and impressively, as if in love with his theme, "to gi=
ve
to our pictures an educational value, as well as to render them entertainin=
g.
Some of them contain a high moral lesson; others, a warning; many, an incen=
tive
to live purer and nobler lives. All of our plots are conceived with far more
thought than you may suppose. Underlying many of our romances and tragedies=
are
moral injunctions which are involuntarily absorbed by the observers, yet of=
so subtle
a nature that they are not suspected. We cannot preach except by suggestion,
for people go to our picture shows to be amused. If we hurled righteousness=
at
them they would soon desert us, and we would be obliged to close up shop.&q=
uot;
"I must conf=
ess that
this is, to me, a most novel presentation of the subject," said Beth, =
more
graciously. "Personally, I care little for your pictures; but I can
understand how travel scenes and scientific or educational subjects might b=
e of
real benefit to the people."
"I can't
understand anyone's being indifferent to the charm of motion pictures,"=
; he
responded, somewhat reproachfully.
"Why, at fir=
st
they struck me as wonderful," said the girl. "They were such a no=
vel
invention that I went to see them from pure curiosity. But, afterward, the
subjects presented in the pictures bored me. The drama pictures were cheap =
and
common, the comedy scenes worse; so I kept away from the picture
theatres."
"Educational
pictures," said Mr. Werner, musingly, "have proved a failure, as I
hinted, except when liberally interspersed with scenes of action and human
interest. The only financial failures among the host of motion picture
theatres, so far as I have observed, are those that have attempted to run
travel scenes and educational films exclusively. There are so few people wi=
th
your--eh--culture and--and--elevated tastes, you see, when compared with the
masses."
"But tell us
about our picture," pleaded Patsy. "What lesson can that falling =
wall
possibly convey?"
"I'll be gla=
d to
explain that," he eagerly replied, "for I am quite proud of it, I
assure you. There are many buildings throughout our larger cities that were
erected as cheaply as possible and without a single thought for the safety =
of
their tenants. So many disasters have resulted from this that of late years
building inspectors have been appointed in every locality to insist on prop=
er
materials and mechanical efficiency in the erection of all classes of
buildings. These inspectors, however, cannot tear the old buildings down to=
see
if they are safe, and paint and plaster cover a multitude of sins of
unscrupulous builders. Usually the landlord or owner knows well the conditi=
on
of his property and in many cases refuses to put it into such shape as to
insure the safety of his tenants. Greed, false economy and heartless
indifference to the welfare of others are unfortunately too prevalent among=
the
wealthy class. No ordinary argument could induce owners to expend money in
strengthening or rebuilding their income-producing properties. But I get af=
ter
them in my picture with a prod that ought to rouse them to action.
"The picture
opens with a scene in the interior of a factory. Men, girls and boys are
employed. The foreman observes a warning crack in the wall and calls the
proprietor's attention to it. In this case the manufacturer is the owner of=
the
building, but he refuses to make repairs. His argument is that the wall has
stood for many years and so is likely to stand for many more; it would be a
waste of money to repair the old shell. Next day the foreman shows him that=
the
crack has spread and extended along the wall in an alarming manner but still
the owner will not act. The workmen counsel together seriously. They dare n=
ot
desert their jobs, for they must have money to live. They send a petition to
the owner, who becomes angry and swears he won't be driven to a useless exp=
ense
by his own employees. In the next scene the manufacturer's daughter--his on=
ly
child--having heard that the building was unsafe, comes to her father's off=
ice
to plead with him to change his mind and make the needed repairs. Although =
he
loves this daughter next to his money he resents her interference in a busi=
ness
matter, and refuses. Her words, however, impress him so strongly that he ca=
lls
her back from the door to kiss her and say that he will give the matter fur=
ther
thought, for her sake.
"As she leav=
es
the office there is a cry of terror from the factory and the working people
come rushing out of the now tottering building. That was when you two young
ladies came walking up the street and were dragged out of danger by the for=
eman
of the shop--in other words, by myself. The owner's daughter, bewildered by=
the
confusion, hesitates what to do or which way to turn, and as she stands upon
the sidewalk she is crushed by the falling wall, together with several of h=
er
father's employees."
"How
dreadful!" exclaimed Patsy.
"Of course no
one was actually hurt," he hastened to say; "for we used dummy
figures for the wall to fall upon. In the final scene the bereaved father
suddenly realizes that he has been working and accumulating only for this
beloved child--the child whose life he has sacrificed by his miserly refusa=
l to
protect his workmen. His grief is so intense that no one who follows the st=
ory
of this picture will ever hesitate to repair a building promptly, if he lea=
rns
it is unsafe. Do you now understand the lesson taught, young ladies?" =
Mr. Werner's dram=
atic
recital had strongly impressed the two girls, while Uncle John was visibly
affected.
"I'm very gl=
ad,"
said the little man fervently, "that none of my money is in factories =
or
other buildings that might prove unsafe. It would make my life miserable if=
I
thought I was in any way responsible for such a catastrophe as you have
pictured."
"It seems to=
me,"
observed Patsy, "that your story is unnecessarily cruel, Mr. Werner.&q=
uot;
"Then you do=
not
understand human nature," he retorted; "or, at least, that phase =
of
human nature I have aimed at. Those indifferent rich men are very hard to m=
ove
and you must figuratively hit them squarely between the eyes to make them e=
ven
wink."
They were silent =
for
a time, considering this novel aspect of the picture business. Then Beth as=
ked:
"Can you tell
us, sir, when and where we shall be able to see this picture?"
"It will be
released next Monday."
"What does t=
hat
mean?"
"It means th=
at
we, as manufacturers, supply certain agencies in all the large cities, who =
in
turn rent our films to the many picture theatres. When a picture is ready, =
we
send copies to all our agencies and set a day when they may release it, or =
give
it to their customers to use. In this way the picture will be shown in all
parts of the United States on the same day--in this case, next Monday."=
;
"Isn't that =
very
quick?"
"Yes. The
picture we took yesterday will to-night be shipped, all complete and ready =
to
run, to forty-four different centers."
"And will any
picture theatre in Hollywood or Los Angeles show it?"
"Certainly. =
It
will be at the Globe Theatre in Los Angeles and at the Isis Theatre in Holl=
ywood,
for the entire week."
"We shall
certainly see it," announced Uncle John.
When Mr. Werner h=
ad
gone they conversed for some time on the subject of motion pictures, and the
man's remarkable statement concerning them.
"I had no
idea," Beth confessed, "that the industry of making pictures is so
extensive and involves so much thought and detail."
"And
money," added Uncle John. "It must be a great expense just to emp=
loy
that army of actors."
"I suppose M=
r.
Werner, being a theatrical man, has drawn the long bow in his effort to imp=
ress
us," said Patsy. "I've been thinking over some of the pictures I'=
ve
seen recently and I can't imagine a moral, however intangible or illusive, =
in
connection with any of them. But perhaps I wasn't observant enough. The nex=
t time
I go to a picture show I shall study the plays more carefully."
On Saturday they =
were
treated to a genuine surprise, for when the omnibus drew up before the hotel
entrance it brought Arthur Weldon and his girl-wife, Louise, who was Uncle
John's eldest niece. It also brought "the Cherub," a wee dimpled =
baby
hugged closely in the arms of Inez, its Mexican nurse.
Patsy and Beth
shrieked in ecstasy as they rushed forward to smother "Toodlums,"=
as
they irreverently called the Cherub, with kisses. Inez, a handsome, dark-ey=
ed
girl, relinquished her burden cheerfully to the two adoring
"aunties," while Uncle John kissed Louise and warmly shook the ha=
nd
of her youthful husband.
"What in the
world induced you to abandon your beloved ranch?" inquired Mr. Merrick=
.
"Don't ask m=
e,
sir!" replied Arthur, laughing at the elder gentleman's astonishment. =
He
was a trim young fellow, with a clean-cut, manly face and frank, winning
manners.
"It's sort of
between hay and grass with us, you know," he explained. "Walnuts =
all
marketed and oranges not ready for the pickers. All our neighbors have
migrated, this way or that, for their regular winter vacations, and after y=
ou
all left, Louise and I began to feel lonely. So at breakfast this morning we
decided to flit. At ten o'clock we caught the express, and here we are--in =
time
for lunch. I hope it's ready, Uncle John."
It was; but they =
must
get their rooms and settle the baby in her new quarters before venturing to
enter the dining room. So they were late for the midday meal and found
themselves almost the only guests in the great dining hall.
As they sat at ta=
ble,
chatting merrily together, Arthur asked:
"What are you
staring at, Patsy?"
"A lovely
girl," said she. "One of the loveliest girls I have ever seen. Do=
n't
look around, Arthur; it might attract their attention."
"How many gi=
rls
are there?"
"Two; and a =
lady
who seems to be their mother. The other girl is pretty, too, but much young=
er
than her sister--or friend, for they do not resemble one another much. They
came in a few minutes ago and are seated at the table in the opposite
corner."
"New arrival=
s, I
suppose," remarked Uncle John, who from his position could observe the
group.
"No," s=
aid
Patsy; "their waitress seems to know them well. But I've never before =
seen
them in the hotel."
"We are alwa=
ys
early at meal time," explained Beth, "and to-day these people are
certainly late. But they are pretty girls, Patsy. For once I concur in your
judgment."
"You arouse =
my
curiosity," said Arthur, speaking quietly, so as not to be overheard in
the far corner. "If I hear more ecstatic praises of these girls I shall
turn around and stare them out of countenance."
"Don't,"
said Louise. "I'm glad your back is toward them, Arthur, for it preser=
ves
you from the temptation to flirt."
"Oh, as for
that, I do not need to turn around in order to see pretty girls," he
replied.
"Thank you,
Arthur," said Patsy, making a face at him. "Look me over all you
like, and flirt if you want to. I'm sure Louise won't object."
"Really, Pat=
sy,
you're not bad to look at," he retorted, eyeing her critically.
"Aside from your red hair, the pug nose and the freckles, you have many
excellent qualities. If you didn't squint--"
"Squint!&quo=
t;
"What do you
call that affection of your eyes?"
"That,"=
she
said, calmly eating her dessert, "was a glance of scorn--burning, bitt=
er
scorn!"
"I maintain =
it
was a squint," declared Arthur.
"That isn't =
her
only expression," announced Uncle John, who loved these little exchang=
es
of good-humored banter. "On Monday I will show you Patsy as a
terror-stricken damsel in distress."
"Also Beth,
still more distressful," added Patsy; and then they told Louise and Ar=
thur
about the picture.
"Fine!"=
he
cried. "I'm deeply gratified that my own relatives--"
"By
marriage."
"I am gratif=
ied
that my secondhand cousins have been so highly honored. I'd rather see a go=
od
moving picture than the best play ever produced."
"You'll see a
good one this time," asserted Patsy, "for we are the stars."=
"I think that
unscrupulous Mr. Werner deserves a reprimand," said Louise.
"Oh, he
apologized," explained Beth. "But I'm sure he'd take the same lib=
erty
again if he had the chance."
"He admits t=
hat
his love of art destroys his sense of propriety," said Patsy.
As they rose from=
the
table Arthur deliberately turned to view the party in the other corner, and
then to the amazement of his friends he coolly walked over and shook the el=
der
lady's hand with evident pleasure. Next moment he was being introduced to t=
he
two girls. The three cousins and their Uncle John walked out of the dining =
hall
and awaited Arthur Weldon in the lobby.
"It is some =
old
acquaintance, of course," said Louise. "Arthur knows a tremendous=
lot
of people and remembers everyone he ever has met."
When he rejoined =
them
he brought the lady and the two beautiful girls with him, introducing Mrs.
Montrose as one of his former acquaintances in New York, where she had been=
a
near neighbor to the Weldons. The girls, who proved to be her nieces instea=
d of
her daughters, were named Maud and Florence Stanton, Maud being about eight=
een
years of age and Florence perhaps fifteen. Maud's beauty was striking, as
proved by Patsy's admiration at first sight; Florence was smaller and darke=
r,
yet very dainty and witching, like a Dresden shepherdess.
The sisters proved
rather shy at this first meeting, being content to exchange smiles with the
other girls, but their aunt was an easy conversationalist and rambled on ab=
out
the delights of Hollywood and southern California until they were all in a
friendly mood. Among other things Mrs. Montrose volunteered the statement t=
hat
they had been at the hotel for several weeks, but aside from that remark
disclosed little of their personal affairs. Presently the three left the ho=
tel
and drove away in an automobile, having expressed a wish to meet their new
friends again and become better acquainted with them.
"I was almost
startled at running across Mrs. Montrose out here," said Arthur.
"After father's death, when I gave up the old home, I lost track of the
Montroses; but I seem to remember that old Montrose went to the happy hunti=
ng
grounds and left a widow, but no children. I imagine these people are wealt=
hy,
as Montrose was considered a successful banker. I'll write to Duggins and
inquire about them."
"Duggins see=
ms
to know everything," remarked Louise.
"He keeps pr=
etty
good track of New York people, especially of the old families," replied
her husband.
"I can't see
what their history matters to us," observed Patsy. "I like to take
folks as I find them, without regard to their antecedents or finances.
Certainly those Stanton girls are wonderfully attractive and ladylike."=
;
But now the baby
claimed their attention and the rest of that day was passed in
"visiting" and cuddling the wee Toodlums, who seemed to know her =
girl
aunties and greeted them with friendly coos and dimpled smiles.
On Sunday they to=
ok a
motor trip through the mountain boulevards and on their way home passed the
extensive enclosure of the Continental Film Company. A thriving village has
been built up at this place, known as Film City, for many of those employed=
by
the firm prefer to live close to their work. Another large "plant"=
; of
the same concern is located in the heart of Hollywood.
As they passed
through Film City Uncle John remarked:
"We are invi=
ted
to visit this place and witness the making of a motion picture. I believe it
would prove an interesting sight."
"Let us go, =
by
all means," replied Arthur. "I am greatly interested in this new
industry, which seems to me to be still in its infancy. The development of =
the
moving picture is bound to lead to some remarkable things in the future, I
firmly believe."
"So do I,&qu=
ot;
said Uncle John. "They'll combine the phonograph with the pictures, for
one thing, so that the players, instead of being silent, will speak as clea=
rly
as in real life. Then we'll have the grand operas, by all the most famous
singers, elaborately staged; and we'll be able to see and hear them for ten
cents, instead of ten dollars. It will be the same with the plays of the
greatest actors."
"That would =
open
up a curious complication," asserted Louise. "The operas would on=
ly
be given once, before the camera and the recorder. Then what would happen to
all the high-priced opera singers?"
"They would =
draw
royalties on all their productions, instead of salaries," replied Arth=
ur.
"Rather easy=
for
the great artists!" observed Patsy. "One performance--and the mon=
ey
rolling in for all time to come."
"Well, they
deserve it," declared Beth. "And think of what the public would g=
ain!
Instead of having to suffer during the performances of incompetent actors a=
nd
singers, as we do to-day, the whole world would be able to see and hear the
best talent of the ages for an insignificant fee. I hope your prediction wi=
ll
come true, Uncle John."
"It's bound
to," he replied, with confidence. "I've read somewhere that Edison
and others have been working on these lines for years, and although they
haven't succeeded yet, anything possible in mechanics is bound to be produc=
ed
in time."
The picture, which
was entitled "The Sacrifice," proved--to use Patsy's words--"=
;a
howling success." On Monday afternoons the little theatres are seldom
crowded, so Mr. Merrick's party secured choice seats where they could obser=
ve
every detail of the photography. The girls could not wait for a later
performance, so eager were they to see themselves in a motion picture, nor =
were
they disappointed to find they were a mere incident in the long roll of fil=
m.
The story of the
photo-play was gripping in its intensity, and since Mr. Werner had clearly
explained the lesson it conveyed, they followed the plot with rapt attentio=
n.
In the last scene their entrance and exit was transitory, but they were obl=
iged
to admit that their features were really expressive of fear. The next insta=
nt
the wall fell, burying its victims, and this rather bewildered them when th=
ey
remembered that fully half an hour had elapsed while the dummies were being
placed in position, the real people removed from danger and preparations ma=
de
to topple over the wall from the inside of the building. But the camera had
been inactive during that period and so cleverly had the parts of the pictu=
re been
united that no pause whatever was observable to the spectators.
"My! what a
stuffy place," exclaimed Louise, as they emerged into the light of day.
"I cannot understand why it is necessary to have these moving picture
theatres so gloomy and uncomfortable."
"It isn't
necessary," replied Uncle John. "It's merely a habit the builders
have acquired. There seemed to be a total lack of ventilation in that
place."
"No one expe=
cts
much for ten cents," Arthur reminded him. "If the pictures are go=
od
the public will stand for anything in the matter of discomfort."
"Did you
notice," said Patsy, slowly, "how many children there were in that
theatre?"
"Yes,
indeed," answered Beth. "The pictures seem to be an ideal amuseme=
nt
for children. I do not suppose they can understand all the dramas and love
stories, but the pictures entertain them, whatever the theme may be." =
"They are not
allowed to go unless accompanied by a parent or guardian," Arthur stat=
ed;
"but I saw a group of eleven under the care of one cheery-looking old
lady, so I suppose the little ones evade the law in that way."
On Tuesday foreno=
on
they drove to the office of the Continental Film Manufacturing Company and
inquired for Mr. Werner. Every approach to the interior of the big stockade=
was
closely guarded in order to prevent the curious from intruding, but Werner =
at
once hurried out to greet them and escorted them into the enclosure.
"You are jus=
t in
time," said he, "to witness one of the scenes in our great pictur=
e,
'Samson and Delilah.' They're getting it on now, so you must hurry if you w=
ant
to see the work. It's really the biggest thing our firm has ever turned
out."
They passed a gro=
up
of low but extensive frame buildings, threading their way between them until
finally they emerged within a large open space where huge frames covered wi=
th
canvas were propped up in broad daylight and apparently in great disorder.
Huddled here and there were groups of people wearing Oriental costumes of t=
he
Bible days, their skins stained brown, the make-up on their faces showing
hideously in the strong light. A herd of meek donkeys, bearing burdens of
faggots, was tethered near by.
"Follow me
closely," cautioned their guide, "so you will not step over the '=
dead
line' and get yourselves in the picture."
"What is the
'dead line'?" inquired Uncle John.
"The line th=
at
marks the limit of the camera's scope. Outside of that you are quite safe. =
You
will notice it is plainly marked in chalk."
They passed aroun=
d to
the front and were amazed at the picture disclosed by the reverse of the ga=
unt,
skeleton-like framework. For now was displayed Solomon's temple in all its
magnificence, with huge pillars supporting a roof that seemed as solid and
substantial as stone and mortar could make it.
The perspective w=
as
wonderful, for they could follow a line of vision through the broad temple =
to a
passage beyond, along which was approaching a procession of priests, headed=
by
dancing girls and musicians beating tomtoms and playing upon reeds. The ent=
ire
scene was barbaric in its splendor and so impressive that they watched it s=
pellbound,
awed and silent.
Yet here beside t=
hem
was the motion-picture camera, clicking steadily away and operated by a man=
in
his shirt-sleeves who watched the scene with sharp eyes, now frowning and n=
ow
nodding approval. Beside him at times, but rushing from one point to another
just outside the chalk-marks that indicated the "dead line," was =
the
director of this production, who shouted commands in a nervous, excited man=
ner
and raged and tore his hair when anything went wrong.
Something went ve=
ry
wrong presently, for the director blew a shrill blast on his whistle and
suddenly everything stopped short. The camera man threw a cloth over his le=
nses
and calmly lighted a cigarette. The procession halted in uncertainty and be=
came
a disordered rabble; but the director sprang into the open space and shoute=
d at
his actors and actresses in evident ill temper.
"There it is
again!" he cried. "Five hundred feet of good film, ruined by the
stupidity of one person. Get out of that priest's robe, Higgins, and let
Jackson take your place. Where's Jackson, anyhow?"
"Here,"
answered a young man, stepping out from a group of spectators.
"Do you know=
the
work? Can you lead that procession into the temple so they will leave room =
for
Delilah to enter, and not crowd her off the platform?" asked the direc=
tor.
Jackson merely no=
dded
as he scrambled into the priest's robe which the discomfited Higgins resign=
ed
to him. Evidently the bungling actor was in disgrace, for he was told to go=
to
the office and get his pay and then "clear out."
So now the proces=
sion
was sent back into the passage and rearranged in proper order; the signal w=
as
given to begin and in an instant the camera renewed its clicking as the
operator slowly revolved the handle that carried the long strip of film past
the lenses. The musicians played, the girls danced, the procession slowly
emerged from the passage.
This time it adva=
nced
properly and came to a halt just at the head of the staircase leading up to=
the
entrance to the temple.
"Delilah!&qu=
ot;
shouted the director, and now appeared a beautiful girl who made a low
obeisance to the chief priest.
"Why--goodne=
ss
me!" cried Patsy. "It's--it's Maud Stanton!"
"Nonsense!&q=
uot;
returned Arthur, sharply; and then he looked again and drew a long breath; =
for
unless it were indeed the elder niece of Mrs. Montrose, there must be two g=
irls
in the world identically alike.
Mr. Werner settled
the question by quietly remarking: "Of course it's Maud Stanton. She's=
our
bright, particular star, you know, and the public would resent it if she di=
dn't
appear as the heroine of all our best pictures."
"An
actress!" exclaimed Arthur. "I--I didn't know that."
"She and her
sister Flo are engaged by us regularly," replied Werner, with an air of
pride. "They cost us a lot of money, as you may imagine, but we can't
afford to let any competitor have them."
If Arthur Weldon =
felt
any chagrin at this, discovery it was not in the least shared by the others=
of
his party. Beth was admiring the young girl's grace and dignity; Patsy was
delighted by her loveliness in the fleecy, picturesque costume she wore; Lo=
uise
felt pride in the fact that she had been introduced to "a real
actress," while Uncle John wondered what adverse fortune had driven th=
is
beautiful, refined girl to pose before a motion picture camera.
They soon discove=
red
Florence Stanton in the picture, too, among the dancing girls; so there cou=
ld
be no mistake of identity. Mrs. Montrose was not visible during the
performance; but afterward, when Samson had pulled down the pillars of the
temple and it had fallen in ruins, when the "show" was over and t=
he
actors trooping away to their dressing-rooms, then the visitors were ushered
into the main office of the establishment to meet Mr. Goldstein, the manage=
r,
and seated by the window was the aunt of the two girls, placidly reading a
book. She looked up with a smile as they entered.
"Did you see=
the
play?" she asked. "And isn't it grand and impressive? I hope you
liked Maud's 'Delilah.' The poor child has worked so hard to create the
character."
They assured her =
the
girl was perfect in her part, after which Mr. Merrick added: "I'm
astonished you did not go out to see the play yourself."
She laughed at his
earnestness.
"It's an old
story to me," she replied, "for I have watched Maud rehearse her =
part
many times. Also it is probable that some--if not all--of the scenes of 'Sa=
mson
and Delilah' will be taken over and over, half a dozen times, before the
director is satisfied."
"The perform=
ance
seemed quite perfect to-day," said Uncle John. "I suppose, Mrs.
Montrose, you do not--er--er--act, yourself?"
"Oh. I have
helped out, sometimes, when a matronly personation is required, but my regu=
lar
duties keep me busily engaged in the office."
"May we ask =
what
those duties are?" said Louise.
"I'm the rea=
der
of scenarios."
"Dear me!&qu=
ot;
exclaimed Patsy. "I'm sure we don't know any more than we did
before."
"A
'scenario,'" said the lady, "is a description of the plot for a p=
hoto-play.
It is in manuscript form and hundreds of scenarios are submitted to us from
every part of the country, and by people in all walks of life."
"I shouldn't
think you could use so many," said Beth.
"We can't, my
dear," responded the lady, laughing at her simplicity. "The major=
ity
of the scenarios we receive haven't a single idea that is worth considering=
. In
most of the others the ideas are stolen, or duplicated from some other
picture-play. Once in a while, however, we find a plot of real merit, and t=
hen
we accept it and pay the author for it."
"How much?&q=
uot;
inquired Arthur.
"So little t=
hat
I am ashamed to tell you. Ideas are the foundation of our business, and wit=
hout
them we could not make successful films; but when Mr. Goldstein buys an ide=
a he
pays as little for it as possible, and the poor author usually accepts the
pittance with gratitude."
"We were a
little surprised," Uncle John ventured to say, "to find you conne=
cted
with this--er--institution. I suppose it's all right; but those girls--your
nieces--"
"Yes, they a=
re
motion picture actresses, and I am a play reader. It is our profession, Mr.
Merrick, and we earn our living in this way. To be frank with you, I am very
proud of the fact that my girls are popular favorites with the picture thea=
tre
audiences."
"That they a=
re,
Mrs. Montrose!" said Goldstein, the manager, a lean little man, earnes=
tly
endorsing the statement; "and that makes them the highest priced stars=
in
all our fourteen companies of players. But they're worth every cent we pay
'em--and I hope ev'rybody's satisfied."
Mrs. Montrose paid
little deference to the manager. "He is only a detail man," she
explained when Goldstein had gone way, "but of course it is necessary =
to
keep these vast and diverse interests running smoothly, and the manager has
enough details on his mind to drive an ordinary mortal crazy. The successful
scenario writers, who conceive our best plays, are the real heart of this
business, and the next to them in importance are the directors, or producer=
s,
who exercise marvelous cleverness in staging the work of the authors."=
"I
suppose," remarked Arthur Weldon, "it is very like a theatre.&quo=
t;
"Not so like=
as
you might imagine," was the reply. "We employ scenery, costumes a=
nd
actors, but not in ways theatrical, for all our work is subservient to the
camera's eye and the requirements of photography."
While they were
conversing, the two Stanton girls entered the office, having exchanged their
costumes for street clothes and washed the make-up from their faces, which =
were
now fresh and animated.
"Oh, Aunt
Jane!" cried Flo, running to Mrs. Montrose, "we're dismissed for =
the
day. Mr. McNeil intends to develop the films before we do anything more, and
Maud and I want to spend the afternoon at the beach."
The lady smiled
indulgently as Maud quietly supported her sister's appeal, the while greeti=
ng
her acquaintances of yesterday with her sweet, girlish charm of manner.
"A half-holi=
day
is quite unusual with us," she explained, "for it is the custom to
hold us in readiness from sunrise to sunset, in case our services are requi=
red.
An actress in a motion picture concern is the slave of her profession, but =
we
don't mind the work so much as we do waiting around for orders."
"Suppose we =
all
drive to the beach together," suggested Mr. Merrick. "We will try=
to
help you enjoy your holiday and it will be a rich treat to us to have your
society."
"Yes, indeed!" exclaimed Patsy Doyle. "I'm just crazy over this motion = picture business and I want to ask you girls a thousand questions about it." <= o:p>
They graciously
agreed to the proposition and at once made preparations for the drive. Mrs.=
Montrose
had her own automobile, but the party divided, the four young girls being
driven by Mr. Merrick's chauffeur in his machine, while Uncle John, Arthur =
and
Louise rode with Mrs. Montrose.
It did not take t=
he
young people long to become acquainted, and the air of restraint that natur=
ally
obtained in the first moments gradually wore away. They were all in good
spirits, anticipating a jolly afternoon at the ocean resorts, so when they
discovered themselves to be congenial companions they lost no time in stilt=
ed
phrases but were soon chattering away as if they had known one another for
years.
"It must be =
fine
to be an actress," said Patsy Doyle, with enthusiasm. "If I had t=
he
face or the figure or the ability--all of which I sadly lack--I'd be an act=
ress
myself."
"I
suppose," replied Maud Stanton, thoughtfully, "it is as good a pr=
ofession
for a girl as any other. But the life is not one of play, by any means. We =
work
very hard during the rehearsals and often I have become so weary that I fea=
red
I would drop to the ground in sheer exhaustion. Flo did faint, once or twic=
e,
during our first engagement with the Pictograph Company; but we find our
present employers more considerate, and we have gained more importance than=
we had
in the beginning."
"It is
dreadfully confining, though," remarked Florence, with a sigh. "O=
ur
hours are worse than those of shopgirls, for the early morning sun is the b=
est
part of the day for our work. Often we are obliged to reach the studio at d=
awn.
To be sure, we have the evenings to ourselves, but we are then too tired to
enjoy them."
"Did you cho=
ose,
this profession for amusement, or from necessity?" inquired Beth,
wondering if the question sounded impertinent.
"Stern
necessity," answered Maud with a smile. "We had our living to ear=
n."
"Could not y=
our
aunt assist you?" asked Patsy.
"Aunt Jane? =
Why,
she is as poor as we are."
"Arthur Weld=
on
used to know the Montroses," said Beth, "and be believed Mr. Mont=
rose
left his widow a fortune."
"He didn't l=
eave
a penny," asserted Florence. "Uncle was a stock gambler, and when=
he
died he was discovered to be bankrupt."
"I must expl=
ain
to you," said Maud, "that our father and mother were both killed
years ago in a dreadful automobile accident. Father left a small fortune to=
be
divided between Flo and me, and appointed Uncle George our guardian. We were
sent to a girls' school and nicely provided for until uncle's death, when it
was found he had squandered our little inheritance as well as his own
money."
"That was ha=
rd
luck," said Patsy sympathetically.
"I am not so sure of that," returned the girl musingly. "Perhaps we are happier now than if we had money. Our poverty gave us dear Aunt Jane for a companion and brought us into a field of endeavor that has proved delightful." <= o:p>
"But how in =
the
world did you ever decide to become actresses, when so many better occupati=
ons
are open to women?" inquired Beth.
"Are other
occupations so much better? A motion picture actress is quite different from
the stage variety, you know. Our performances are all privately conducted, =
and
although the camera is recording our actions it is not like being stared at=
by
a thousand critical eyes."
"A million e=
yes
stare at the pictures," asserted Patsy.
"But we are =
not
there to be embarrassed by them," laughed Flo.
"We have but=
one
person to please," continued Maud, "and that is the director. If =
at
first the scene is not satisfactory, we play it again and again, until it is
quite correct. To us this striving for perfection is an art. We actors are =
mere
details of an artistic conception. We have now been in Hollywood for five
months, yet few people who casually notice us at the hotel or on the streets
have any idea that we act for the 'movies.' Sometimes we appear publicly in=
the
streets, in characteristic costume, and proceed to enact our play where all=
may
observe us; but there are so many picture companies in this neighborhood th=
at
we are no longer looked upon as a novelty and the people passing by pay lit=
tle attention
to us."
"Were you in
that picture of the falling wall?" asked Beth.
"No. We were
rehearsing for 'Samson and Delilah.' But sometimes we are called upon to do
curious things. One night, not long ago, a big residence burned down in the
foothills back of our hotel. At the first alarm of fire one of the directors
wakened us and we jumped into our clothes and were whisked in an automobile=
to
the scene of the conflagration. The camera-man was already there and, while=
we had
to dodge the fire-fighters and the hose men, both Flo and I managed to be
'saved from the flames' by some of our actors--not once, but several
times."
"It must have
been thrilling!" gasped Patsy.
"It was
exciting, at the moment," confessed Maud. "One of the pictures pr=
oved
very dramatic, so an author wrote a story where at the climax a girl was
rescued from the flames by her lover, and we took our time to act the sever=
al
scenes that led up to the fire. The completed picture was a great success, =
I'm
told."
"Those direc=
tors
must be wonderfully enterprising fellows," said Beth.
"They are,
indeed, constantly on the lookout for effects. Every incident that occurs in
real life is promptly taken advantage of. The camera-men are everywhere,
waiting for their chance. Often their pictures prove of no value and are
destroyed, but sometimes the scenes they catch are very useful to work into=
a
picture play. A few weeks ago I was shipwrecked on the ocean and saved by
clinging to a raft. That was not pleasant and I caught a severe cold by bei=
ng
in the water too long; but I was chosen because I can swim. Such incidents =
are
merely a part of our game--a game where personal comfort is frequently
sacrificed to art. Once Flo leaped over a thirty-foot precipice and was cau=
ght
in a net at the bottom. The net was, of course, necessary, but when the pic=
ture
was displayed her terrible leap was followed by a view of her mangled body =
at
the bottom of the canyon."
"How did they
manage to do that?" asked Patsy.
"Stopped the
camera, cut off the piece of film showing her caught by the net, and
substituted a strip on which was recorded Flo's body lying among the jagged
rocks, where it had been carefully and comfortably arranged. We do a lot of
deceptive tricks of that sort, and sometimes I myself marvel at the natural
effects obtained."
"It must be =
more
interesting than stage acting."
"I believe it
is. But we've never been on the stage," said Maud.
"How did you
happen to get started in such a queer business?" inquired Patsy.
"Well, after= we found ourselves poor and without resources we began wondering what we could= do to earn money. A friend of Aunt Jane's knew a motion picture maker who want= ed fifty young girls for a certain picture and would pay each of them five dol= lars a day. Flo and I applied for the job and earned thirty dollars between us; = but then the manager thought he would like to employ us regularly, and with Aun= tie to chaperon us we accepted the engagement. The first few weeks we merely appeared among the rabble--something like chorus girls, you see--but then we were given small parts and afterward more important ones. When we discovered our own value to the film makers Auntie managed to get us better engagement= s, so we've acted for three different concerns during the past two years, whil= e Aunt Jane has become noted as a clever judge of the merits of scenarios." <= o:p>
"Do both of =
you
girls play star parts?" Beth inquired.
"Usually. Fl=
o is
considered the best 'child actress' in the business, but when there is no c=
hild
part she makes herself useful in all sorts of ways. To-day, for instance, y=
ou
saw her among the dancing girls. I do the ingenue, or young girl parts, whi=
ch
are very popular just now. I did not want to act 'Delilah,' for I thought I=
was
not old enough; but Mr. McNeil wanted me in the picture and so I made myself
took as mature as possible."
"You were
ideal!" cried Patsy, admiringly.
The young girl
blushed at this praise, but said deprecatingly:
"I doubt if I
could ever be a really great actress; but then, I do not intend to act for =
many
more years. Our salary is very liberal at present, as Goldstein grudgingly
informed you, and we are saving money. As soon as we think we have acquired
enough to live on comfortably we shall abandon acting and live as other gir=
ls
do."
"The fact
is," added Flo, "no one will employ us when we have lost our yout=
h.
So we are taking advantage of these few fleeting years to make hay while the
sun shines."
"Do many sta=
ge
actresses go into the motion picture business?" asked Beth.
"A few, but =
all
are not competent," replied Maud. "In the 'silent drama' facial
expression and the art of conveying information by a gesture is of paramount
importance. In other words, action must do the talking and explain everythi=
ng.
I am told that some comedians, like 'Bunny' and Sterling Mace, were failure=
s on
the stage, yet in motion pictures they are great favorites. On the other ha=
nd,
some famous stage actors can do nothing in motion pictures."
On their arrival =
at
Santa Monica Mr. Merrick invited the party to be his guests at luncheon, wh=
ich
was served in a cosy restaurant overlooking the ocean. And then, although at
this season it was bleak winter back East, all but Uncle John and Aunt Jane
took a bath in the surf of the blue Pacific, mingling with hundreds of other
bathers who were enjoying the sport.
Mrs. Montrose and
Uncle John sat on the sands to watch the merry scene, while the young people
swam and splashed about, and they seemed--as Miss Patsy slyly observed--to
"get on very well together."
"And that is
very creditable to your aunt," she observed to Maud Stanton, who was
beside her in the water, "for Uncle John is rather shy in the society =
of
ladies and they find him hard to entertain."
"He seems li=
ke a
dear old gentleman," said Maud.
"He is, inde=
ed,
the dearest in all the world. And, if he likes your Aunt Jane, that is evid=
ence
that she is all right, too; for Uncle John's intuition never fails him in t=
he
selection of friends. He--"
"Dear me!&qu=
ot;
cried Maud; "there's someone in trouble, I'm sure."
She was looking o=
ut
across the waves, which were fairly high to-day, and Patsy saw her lean for=
ward
and strike out to sea with strokes of remarkable swiftness. Bathers were
scattered thickly along the coast, but only a few had ventured far out beyo=
nd
the life-lines, so Patsy naturally sought an explanation by gazing at those
farthest out. At first she was puzzled, for all the venturesome seemed to be
swimming strongly and composedly; but presently a dark form showed on the c=
rest
of a wave--a struggling form that tossed up its arms despairingly and then =
disappeared.
She looked for Ma=
ud
Stanton and saw her swimming straight out, but still a long way from the pe=
rson
in distress. Then Patsy, always quick-witted in emergencies, made a dash for
the shore where a small boat was drawn up on the beach.
"Come, Arthu=
r, quick!"
she cried to the young man, who was calmly wading near the beach, and he ca=
ught
the note of terror in her voice and hastened to help push the little craft =
into
the water.
"Jump in!&qu=
ot;
she panted, "and row as hard as you ever rowed in all your life."=
Young Weldon was
prompt to obey. He asked no useless questions but, realizing that someone w=
as
in danger, he pulled a strong, steady oar and let Patsy steer the boat.
The laughter and
merry shouts of the bathers, who were all unaware that a tragedy was develo=
ping
close at hand, rang in the girl's ears as she peered eagerly ahead for a si=
gn
to guide her. Now she espied Maud Stanton, far out beyond the others, circl=
ing
around and diving into this wave or that as it passed her.
"Whoever it
was," she muttered, half aloud, "is surely done for by this time.
Hurry, Arthur! I'm afraid Maud has exhausted all her strength."
But just then Maud
dived again and when she reappeared was holding fast to something dark and
inanimate. A moment later the boat swept to her side and she said:
"Get him abo=
ard,
if you can. Don't mind me; I'm all right."
Arthur reached do=
wn
and drew a slight, boyish form over the gunwale, while Patsy clasped Maud's
hand and helped the girl over the side. She was still strong, but panted fr=
om her
exertions to support the boy.
"Who is
it?" inquired Patsy, as Arthur headed the boat for the shore.
Maud shook her he=
ad,
leaning forward to look at the face of the rescued one for the first time. =
"I've never =
seen
him before," she said. "Isn't it too bad that I reached him too
late?"
Patsy nodded, gaz=
ing
at the white, delicate profile of the young fellow as he lay lifeless at her
feet. Too late, undoubtedly; and he was a mere boy, with all the interests =
of
life just unfolding for him.
Their adventure h=
ad
now been noticed by some of the bathers, who crowded forward to meet the bo=
at
as it grounded on the beach. Uncle John, always keeping an eye on his belov=
ed
nieces, had noted every detail of the rescue and as a dozen strong men pull=
ed
the boat across the sands, beyond the reach of the surf, the Merrick automo=
bile
rolled up beside it.
"Now,
then!" cried the little man energetically, and with the assistance of =
his
chauffeur he lifted the lifeless form into the car.
"The
hospital?" said Patsy, nodding approval.
"Yes," =
he
answered. "No; you girls can't come in your wet bathing suits. I'll do=
all
that can be done."
Even as he spoke =
the
machine whirled away, and looking after it Maud said, shaking her head mild=
ly:
"I fear he's right. Little can be done for the poor fellow now." =
"Oh, lots ca=
n be
done," returned Patsy; "but perhaps it won't bring him back to li=
fe.
Anyhow, it's right to make every attempt, as promptly as possible, and
certainly Uncle John didn't waste any time."
Beth and Florence=
now
joined them and Louise came running up to ask eager questions.
"Who was it,
Patsy?"
"We don't kn=
ow.
Some poor fellow who got too far out and had a cramp, perhaps. Or his stren=
gth
may have given out. He didn't seem very rugged."
"He was
struggling when first I saw him," said Maud. "It seemed dreadful =
to
watch the poor boy drowning when hundreds of people were laughing and playi=
ng
in the water within earshot of him."
"That was the
trouble," declared Arthur Weldon. "All those people were intent on
themselves and made so much noise that his cries for help could not be
heard."
The tragedy, now
generally known, had the effect of sobering the bathers and most of them le=
ft
the water and trooped to the bathhouses to dress. Mrs. Montrose advised the
girls to get their clothes on, as all were shivering--partly from
nervousness--in their wet bathing suits.
They were ready an
hour before Mr. Merrick returned, and his long absence surprised them until
they saw his smiling face as he drove up in his car. It gave them a thrill =
of
hope as in chorus they cried:
"Well--Uncle
John?"
"I think he =
will
live," returned the little man, with an air of great satisfaction.
"Anyway, he's alive and breathing now, and the doctors say there's eve=
ry
reason to expect a rapid recovery."
"Who is
he?" they asked, crowding around him.
"A. Jones.&q=
uot;
"A--what?&qu=
ot;
This from Patsy, in a doubtful tone.
"Jones. A.
Jones."
"Why, he must
have given you an assumed name!"
"He didn't g=
ive
us any name. As soon as he recovered consciousness he fell asleep, and I le=
ft
him slumbering as peacefully as a baby. But we went through his clothes, ho=
ping
to get a trace of his friends, so they could be notified. His bathing suit =
is
his own, not rented, and the name 'A. Jones' is embroidered on tape and sew=
n to
each piece. Also the key to bathhouse number twenty-six was tied to his wri=
st.
The superintendent sent a man for his clothing and we examined that, too. T=
he
letters 'A.J.' were stamped in gold on his pocketbook, and in his cardcase =
were
a number of cards engraved: 'A. Jones, Sangoa.' But there were no letters, =
or
any other papers."
"Where is
Sangoa?" inquired Beth.
"No one seem=
s to
know," confessed Uncle John. "There was plenty of money in his
pocket-book and he has a valuable watch, but no other jewelry. His clothes =
were
made by a Los Angeles tailor, but when they called him up by telephone he k=
new
nothing about his customer except that he had ordered his suit and paid for=
it
in advance. He called for it three days ago, and carried it away with him, =
so
we have no clue to the boy's dwelling place."
"Isn't that a
little strange--perhaps a little suspicious?" asked Mrs. Montrose.
"I think not,
ma'am," answered Mr. Merrick. "We made these investigations at the
time we still feared he would die, so as to communicate with any friends or
relatives he might have. But after he passed the crisis so well and fell
asleep, the hospital people stopped worrying about him. He seems like any
ordinary, well-to-do young fellow, and a couple of days in the hospital oug=
ht
to put him upon his feet again."
"But Sangoa,
Uncle; is that a town or a country?"
"Some
out-of-the-way village, I suppose. People are here from every crack and cor=
ner
of America, you know."
"It sounds a=
bit
Spanish," commented Arthur. "Maybe he is from Mexico."
"Maybe,"
agreed Uncle John. "Anyhow, Maud has saved his life, and if it's worth
anything to him he ought to be grateful."
"Never mind
that," said Maud, flushing prettily with embarrassment as all eyes tur=
ned
upon her, "I'm glad I noticed him in time; but now that he is all righ=
t he
need never know who it was that rescued him. And, for that matter, sir, Pat=
sy
Doyle and Mr. Weldon did as much for him as I. Perhaps they saved us both,
while your promptness in getting him to the hospital was the main factor in
saving his life."
"Well, it's =
all
marked down in the hospital books," remarked Uncle John. "I had to
tell the whole story, you see, as a matter of record, and all our names are
there, so none can escape the credit due her--or him."
"In truth,&q=
uot;
said Mrs. Montrose with a smile, "it really required four of you to sa=
ve
one slender boy."
"Yes, he nee=
ded
a lot of saving," laughed Flo. "But," her pretty face growing
more serious, "I believe it was all Fate, and nothing else. Had we not
come to the beach this afternoon, the boy might have drowned; so, as I
suggested the trip, I'm going to take a little credit myself."
"Looking at =
it
in that light," said Patsy, "the moving picture man saved the boy=
's
life by giving you a half-holiday."
This caused a lau=
gh,
for their spirits were now restored to normal. To celebrate the occasion, M=
r.
Merrick proposed to take them all into Los Angeles to dine at a "swell
restaurant" before returning to Hollywood.
This little event=
, in
conjunction with the afternoon's adventure, made them all more intimate, so
that when they finally reached home and separated for the night they felt l=
ike
old friends rather than recent acquaintances.
There was work for
the Stanton girls at the "film factory," as they called it, next
morning, so they had left the hotel before Mr. Merrick's party assembled at=
the
breakfast table.
"I must
telephone the Santa Monica hospital and find out how our patient is,"
remarked Uncle John, when the meal was over; but presently he returned from=
the
telephone booth with a puzzled expression upon his face. "A. Jones has
disappeared!" he announced.
"Disappeared!
What do you mean, Uncle?" asked Beth.
"He woke ear=
ly
and declared he was himself again, paid his bill, said 'good morning' to the
hospital superintendent and walked away. He wouldn't answer questions, but =
kept
asking them. The nurse showed him the book with the record of how he was sa=
ved,
but she couldn't induce him to say who he was, where he came from nor where=
he
was going. Seems a little queer, doesn't it?"
They all confessed
that it did.
"However,&qu=
ot;
said Patsy Doyle, "I'm glad he recovered, and I'm sure Maud will be wh=
en
she hears the news. The boy has a perfect right to keep his own counsel, bu=
t he
might have had the grace to tell us what that initial 'A.' stands for, and
where on earth Sangoa is."
"I've been
inquiring about Sangoa," announced Arthur, just then joining the group,
"and no one seems wiser than we are. There's no record of such a town =
or
state in Mexico, or in the United States--so far as I can discover. The cle=
rk
has sent for a map of Alaska, and perhaps we'll find Sangoa there."
"What does it
matter?" inquired Louise.
"Why, we don=
't
like to be stumped," asserted Patsy, "that's all. Here is a young=
man
from Sangoa, and--"
"Really,&quo=
t;
interrupted Beth, who was gazing through the window, "I believe here is
the young man from Sangoa!"
"Where?"
they all cried, crowding forward to look.
"Coming up t=
he
walk. See! Isn't that the same mysterious individual whose life Maud
saved?"
"That's the
identical mystery," declared Uncle John. "I suppose he has come h=
ere
to look us up and thank us."
"Then, for
heaven's sake, girls, pump him and find out where Sangoa is," said Art=
hur
hastily, and the next moment a bell boy approached their party with a card.=
They looked at the
young fellow curiously as he came toward them. He seemed not more than eigh=
teen
years of age and his thin features wore a tired expression that was not the
result of his recent experience but proved to be habitual. His manner was n=
ot
languid, however, but rather composed; at the same time he held himself ale=
rt,
as if constantly on his guard. His dress was simple but in good taste and he
displayed no embarrassment as he greeted the party with a low bow.
"Ah," s=
aid
Uncle John, heartily shaking his hand, "I am delighted to find you so
perfectly recovered."
A slight smile, s=
ad
and deprecating, flickered for an instant over his lips. It gave the boyish
face a patient and rather sweet expression as he slowly replied:
"I am quite
myself to-day, sir, and I have come to assure you of my gratitude for your
rescue of me yesterday. Perhaps it wasn't worth all your bother, but since =
you
generously took the trouble to save me, the least I can do is to tender you=
my
thanks." Here he looked from one to another of the three girls and
continued: "Please tell me which young lady swam to my assistance.&quo=
t;
"Oh, it was =
none
of us," said Patsy. "Miss Stanton--Maud Stanton--swam out to you,
when she noticed you were struggling, and kept you afloat until we--until h=
elp
came."
"And Miss
Stanton is not here?"
"Not at pres=
ent,
although she is staying at this hotel."
He gravely consid=
ered
this information for a moment. As he stood there, swaying slightly, he appe=
ared
so frail and delicate that Uncle John seized his arm and made him sit down =
in a
big easy chair. The boy sighed, took a memorandum from his pocket and glanc=
ed
at it.
"Miss Doyle =
and
Mr. Weldon pulled out in a boat and rescued both Miss Stanton and me, just =
as
we were about to sink," he said. "Tell me, please, if either Miss
Doyle or Mr. Weldon is present."
"I am Arthur
Weldon," said that young gentleman; "but I was merely the boatman,
under command of Miss Doyle, whom I beg to present to you."
A. Jones looked
earnestly into Patsy's face. Holding out his hand he said with his odd smil=
e:
"Thank you." Then he turned to shake Arthur's hand, after which he
continued: "I also am indebted to Mr. Merrick for carrying me to the
hospital. The doctor told me that only this prompt action enabled them to
resuscitate me at all. And now, I believe it would be courteous for me to t=
ell
you who I am and how I came to be in such dire peril."
He paused to look
around him questioningly and the interest on every face was clearly evident.
Arthur took this opportunity to introduce Jones to Louise and Beth and then
they all sat down again. Said Uncle John to the stranger, in his frank and
friendly way:
"Tell us as =
much
or as little as you like, my boy. We are not unduly inquisitive, I assure
you."
"Thank you, =
sir.
I am an American, and my name is Jones. That is, I may claim American
parentage, although I was born upon a scarcely known island in the Pacific
which my father purchased from the government of Uruguay some thirty years
ago."
"Sangoa?&quo=
t;
asked Arthur.
He seemed surpris=
ed
at the question but readily answered:
"Yes; Sangoa=
. My
father was a grandnephew of John Paul Jones and very proud of the connectio=
n;
but instead of being a sailor he was a scientist, and he chose to pass his =
life
in retirement from the world."
"Your father=
is
no longer living, then?" said Mr. Merrick.
"He passed a=
way
a year ago, on his beloved island. My mother died several years before him.=
I
began to feel lonely at Sangoa and I was anxious to visit America, of which=
my mother
had so often told me. So some months ago I reached San Francisco, since whe=
n I
have been traveling over your country--my country, may I call it?--and stud=
ying
your modern civilization. In New York I remained fully three months. It is =
only
about ten days since I returned to this coast."
He stopped abrupt=
ly,
as if he considered he had told enough. The brief recital had interested his
auditors, but the ensuing pause was rather embarrassing.
"I suppose y=
ou
have been visiting relatives of your parents," remarked Uncle John, to
ease the situation.
"They--had no
relatives that I know of," he returned. "I am quite alone in the
world. You must not suppose I am unaccustomed to the water," he hasten=
ed
to add, as if to retreat from an unpleasant subject. "At Sangoa I have
bathed in the sea ever since I can remember anything; but--I am not in good
health. I suffer from indigestion, a chronic condition, which is my incubus.
Yesterday my strength suddenly deserted me and I became helpless."
"How fortuna=
te
it was that Maud noticed you!" exclaimed Patsy, with generous sympathy=
.
Again the half sad
smile softened his face as he looked at her.
"I am not su=
re
it was wholly fortunate for me," he said, "although I admit I hav=
e no
wish to end my uninteresting life by drowning. I am not a misanthrope, in s=
pite
of my bad stomach. The world is more useful to me than I am to the world, b=
ut
that is not my fault. Pardon me for talking so much about myself."
"Oh, we are
intensely interested, I assure you," replied Patsy. "If some of us
were indeed the instruments that saved you yesterday, it is a pleasure to u=
s to
know something of the--the man--we saved."
She had almost sa=
id
"boy," he was such a youthful person, and he knew it as well as s=
he
did.
"I would lik=
e to
meet Miss Stanton and thank her personally," he presently resumed.
"So, if you have no objection, I think I shall register at this hotel =
and
take a room. I--I am not very strong yet, but perhaps Miss Stanton will see=
me
when I have rested a little."
"She won't
return before five o'clock," explained Mr. Merrick. "Miss Stanton
is--er--connected with a motion picture company, you know, and is busy duri=
ng
the day."
He seemed both
surprised and perplexed, at first, but after a moment's thought he said:
"She is an
actress, then?"
"Yes; she and
her sister. They have with them an aunt, Mrs. Montrose, for companion."=
;
"Thank you. =
Then
I will try to meet them this evening."
As he spoke he ro=
se
with some difficulty and bade them adieu. Arthur went with him to the desk =
and
proffered his assistance, but the young man said he needed nothing but rest=
.
"And just th=
ink
of it," said Patsy, when he had gone. "We don't know yet what that
'A' stands for!"
"Arthur,&quo=
t;
suggested Louise.
"Albert,&quo=
t;
said Beth.
"Or
Algernon," added Uncle John with a chuckle.
"But we have=
n't
seen the last of him yet," declared Miss Doyle. "I've a romance a=
ll
plotted, of which A. Jones is to be the hero. He will fall in love with Maud
and carry her away to his island!"
"I'm not so =
sure
of that result," observed Uncle John thoughtfully. "It wouldn't
astonish me to have him fall in love with Maud Stanton; we've all done that,
you know; but could Maud--could any girl--be attracted by a lean, dismal boy
with a weak stomach, such as A. Jones?"
"Even with t=
hese
drawbacks he is quite interesting," asserted Beth.
"He is sure =
to
win her sympathy," said Louise.
"But, above
all," declared Patsy, "he has an island, inherited from his royal
daddy. That island would count for a lot, with any girl!"
The girls interce=
pted
Maud Stanton when she returned to the hotel that evening, and told her all
about A. Jones. The tale was finished long before that dyspeptic youth had
wakened from his slumbers. Then they all dressed for dinner and afterward m=
et
in the lobby, where Uncle John told them he had arranged to have a big round
table prepared for the entire party, including a seat for A. Jones, who mig=
ht
like to join them.
However, the young
man did not make his appearance, and as they trooped into the dining room P=
atsy
said resentfully:
"I believe A.
Jones is in a trance and needs rolling on a barrel again."
"He probably
found himself too weak to appear in public," replied Flo Stanton.
"I'm sure if I had been all but drowned a few hours ago, I would prefer
bed to society."
"I'm astonis=
hed
that he summoned energy to visit us at all," declared Mrs. Montrose.
"He may be weak and ill, but at least he is grateful."
"Jones seems=
a
vary gentlemanly young fellow," said Mr. Merrick. "He is a bit shy
and retiring, which is perhaps due to his lonely life on his island; but I
think he has been well brought up."
As they came out =
from
dinner they observed the porters wheeling several big trunks up the east
corridor. The end of each trunk was lettered: "A. Jones."
"Well,"
said Beth, with an amused smile, "he intends to stay a while, anyhow.
You'll have a chance to meet him yet, Maud."
"I'm glad of
that," answered Maud, "for I am anxious to calculate the worth of=
the
life I helped to save. Your reports are ambiguous, and I am undecided wheth=
er
you are taking the boy seriously or as a joke. From your description of his
personal appearance, I incline to the belief that under ordinary circumstan=
ces
I would not look twice at Mr. Jones, but having been partly instrumental in
preserving him to the world, I naturally feel a proprietary interest in
him."
"Of
course," said Flo. "He's worth one look, out of pure curiosity; b=
ut it
would be dreadful to have him tagging you around, expressing his everlasting
gratitude."
"I don't ima=
gine
he'll do that," observed Patsy Doyle. "A. Jones strikes me as hav=
ing
a fair intellect in a shipwrecked body, and I'll wager a hatpin against a
glove-buttoner that he won't bore you. At the same time he may not interest
you--or any of us--for long, unless he develops talents we have not discove=
red.
I wonder why he doesn't use his whole name. That mystic 'A' puzzles me.&quo=
t;
"It's an Eng=
lish
notion, I suppose," said Mrs. Montrose.
"But he isn't
English; he's American."
"Sangoese,&q=
uot;
corrected Beth.
"Perhaps he
doesn't like his name, or is ashamed of it," suggested Uncle John.
"It may be
'Absalom,'" said Flo. "We once knew an actor named Absalom, and he
always called himself 'A. Judson Keith.' He was a dignified chap, and when =
we
girls one day called him 'Ab,' he nearly had hysterics."
"Mr. Werner =
had
hysterics to-day," asserted Maud, gravely; "but I didn't blame hi=
m.
He sent out a party to ride down a steep hill on horseback, as part of a fi=
lm
story, and a bad accident resulted. One of the horses stepped in a gopher h=
ole
and fell, and a dozen others piled up on him, including their riders."=
"How
dreadful!" was the general exclamation.
"Several of =
the
horses broke their legs and had to be shot," continued Maud; "but
none of the riders was seriously injured except little Sadie Martin, who was
riding a bronco. The poor thing was caught under one of the animals and the
doctor says she won't be able to work again for months."
"Goodness me!
And all for the sake of a picture?" cried Patsy indignantly. "I h=
ope
you don't take such risks, Maud."
"No; Flo and=
I
have graduated from what is called 'the bronco bunch,' and now do platform =
work
entirely. To be sure we assume some minor risks in that, but nothing to com=
pare
with the other lines of business."
"I hope the
little girl you mentioned will get well, and has enough money to tide her o=
ver
this trouble," said Uncle John anxiously.
"The manager
will look after her," returned Mrs. Montrose. "Our people are very
good about that and probably Sadie Martin's salary will continue regularly
until she is able to work again."
"Well,"
said Beth, drawing a long breath, "I suppose we shall read all about i=
t in
the morning papers."
"Oh, no!&quo=
t;
exclaimed Maud and added: "These accidents never get into the papers. =
They
happen quite often, around Los Angeles, where ten thousand or more people m=
ake
their living from motion pictures; but the public is protected from all
knowledge of such disasters, which would detract from their pleasure in
pictures and perhaps render all films unpopular."
"I thought t=
he
dear public loved the dare-devil acts," remarked Arthur Weldon.
"Oh, it
does," agreed Mrs. Montrose; "yet those who attend the picture th=
eatres
seem not to consider the action taking place before their eyes to be real. =
Here
are pictures only--a sort of amplified story book--and the spectators like =
them
exciting; but if they stopped to reflect that men and women in the flesh we=
re
required to do these dangerous feats for their entertainment, many would be=
too
horrified to enjoy the scenes. Of course the makers of the pictures guard t=
heir
actors in all possible ways; yet, even so, casualties are bound to occur.&q=
uot;
They had retired =
to a
cosy corner of the public drawing room and were conversing on this interest=
ing
topic when they espied A. Jones walking toward them. The youth was attired =
in
immaculate evening dress, but his step was slow and dragging and his face
pallid.
Arthur and Uncle =
John
drew up an easy chair for him while Patsy performed the introductions to Mr=
s.
Montrose and her nieces. Very earnestly the boy grasped the hand of the you=
ng
girl who had been chiefly responsible for his rescue, thanking her more by =
his
manner than in his few carefully chosen words.
As for Maud, she
smilingly belittled her effort, saying lightly: "I know I must not cla=
im
that it didn't amount to anything, for your life is valuable, Mr. Jones, I'm
sure. But I had almost nothing to do beyond calling Patsy Doyle's attention=
to
you and then swimming out to keep you afloat until help came. I'm a good sw=
immer,
so it was not at all difficult."
"Moreover,&q=
uot;
he added, "you would have done the same thing for anyone in distress.&=
quot;
"Certainly.&=
quot;
"I realize t=
hat.
I am quite a stranger to you. Nevertheless, my gratitude is your due and I =
hope
you will accept it as the least tribute I can pay you. Of all that throng of
bathers, only you noticed my peril and came to my assistance."
"Fate!"
whispered Flo impressively.
"Nonsense,&q=
uot;
retorted her sister. "I happened to be the only one looking out to sea=
. I
think, Mr. Jones, you owe us apologies more than gratitude, for your folly =
was
responsible for the incident. You were altogether too venturesome. Such act=
ion
on this coast, where the surf rolls high and creates an undertow, is nothing
less than foolhardy."
"I'm sure you
are right," he admitted. "I did not know this coast, and foolishly
imagined the old Pacific, in which I have sported and played since babyhood,
was my friend wherever I found it."
"I hope you =
are
feeling better and stronger this evening," said Mr. Merrick. "We
expected you to join us at dinner."
"I--I seldom
dine in public," he explained, flushing slightly. "My bill-of-far=
e is
very limited, you know, owing to my--my condition; and so I carry my
food-tablets around with me, wherever I go, and eat them in my own room.&qu=
ot;
"Food-tablet=
s!"
cried Patsy, horrified.
"Yes. They a=
re
really wafers--very harmless--and I am permitted to eat nothing else."=
"No wonder y=
our
stomach is bad and you're a living skeleton!" asserted the girl, with
scorn.
"My dear,&qu=
ot;
said Uncle John, gently chiding her, "we must give Mr. Jones the credit
for knowing what is best for him."
"Not me,
sir!" protested the boy, in haste. "I'm very ignorant about--about
health, and medicine and the like. But in New York I consulted a famous doc=
tor,
and he told me what to do."
"That's
right," nodded the old gentleman, who had never been ill in his life.
"Always take the advice of a doctor, listen to the advice of a lawyer,=
and
refuse the advise of a banker. That's worldly wisdom."
"Were you ill
when you left your home?" inquired Mrs. Montrose, looking at the young=
man
with motherly sympathy.
"Not when I =
left
the island," he said. "I was pretty well up to that time. But dur=
ing
the long ocean voyage I was terribly sick, and by the time we got to San
Francisco my stomach was a wreck. Then I tried to eat the rich food at your
restaurants and hotels--we live very plainly in Sangoa, you know--and by the
time I got to New York I was a confirmed dyspeptic and suffering tortures.
Everything I ate disagreed with me. So I went to a great specialist, who has
invented these food tablets for cases just like mine, and he ordered me to =
eat
nothing else."
"And are you
better?" asked Maud.
He hesitated.
"Sometimes I
imagine I am. I do not suffer so much pain, but I--I seem to grow weaker all
the time."
"No
wonder!" cried Patsy. "If you starve yourself you can't grow
strong."
He looked at her =
with
an expression of surprise. Then he asked abruptly:
"What would =
you
advise me to do, Miss Doyle?"
A chorus of laugh=
ter
greeted this question. Patsy flushed a trifle but covered her confusion by
demanding: "Would you follow my advice?"
He made a little
grimace. There was humor in the boy, despite his dyspepsia.
"I understand
there is a law forbidding suicide," he replied. "But I asked your
advice in an attempt to discover what you thought of my absurd condition. N=
ow
that you call my attention to it, I believe I am starving myself. I need
stronger and more nourishing food; and yet the best specialist in your
progressive country has regulated my diet."
"I don't bel=
ieve
much in specialists," asserted Patsy. "If you do, go ahead and ki=
ll
yourself, in defiance of the law. According to common sense you ought to eat
plenty of good, wholesome food, but you may be so disordered--in your
interior--that even that would prove fatal. So I won't recommend it." =
"I'm doomed,
either way," he said quietly. "I know that."
"How do you =
know
it?" demanded Maud in a tone of resentment.
He was silent a
moment. Then he replied:
"I cannot re=
member
how we drifted into this very personal argument. It seems wrong for me to be
talking about myself to those who are practically strangers, and you will
realize how unused I am to the society of ladies by considering my rudeness=
in
this interview."
"Pshaw!"
exclaimed Uncle John; "we are merely considering you as a friend. You =
must
believe that we are really interested in you," he continued, laying a
kindly hand on the young fellow's shoulder. "You seem in a bad way, it=
's
true, but your condition is far from desperate. Patsy's frankness--it's her=
one
fault and her chief virtue--led you to talk about yourself, and I'm surpris=
ed
to find you so despondent and--and--what do you call it, Beth?"
"Pessimistic=
?"
"That's
it--pessimistic."
"But you're
wrong, sir!" said the boy with a smile; "I may not be elated over=
my
fatal disease, but neither am I despondent. I force myself to keep going wh=
en I
wonder how the miserable machine responds to my urging, and I shall keep it
going, after a fashion, until the final breakdown. Fate weaves the thread of
our lives, I truly believe, and she didn't use very good material when she
started mine. But that doesn't matter," he added quickly. "I'm tr=
ying
to do a little good as I go along and not waste my opportunities. I'm obeyi=
ng
my doctor's orders and facing the future with all the philosophy I can summ=
on.
So now, if you--who have given me a new lease of life--think I can use it to
any better advantage, I am willing to follow your counsel."
His tone was more
pathetic than his words. Maud, as she looked at the boy and tried to realize
that his days were numbered, felt her eyes fill with tears. Patsy sniffed
scornfully, but said nothing. It was Beth who remarked with an air of uncon=
cern
that surprised those who knew her unsympathetic nature:
"It would be
presumptuous for us to interfere, either with Fate or with Nature. You're
probably dead wrong about your condition, for a sick person has no judgment
whatever, but I've noticed the mind has a good deal to do with one's health=
. If
you firmly believe you're going to die, why, what can you expect?"
No one cared to
contradict this and a pause followed that was growing awkward when they were
all aroused by the sound of hasty footsteps approaching their corner.
The newcomer prov=
ed
to be Goldstein, the manager of the Continental. His face was frowning and
severe as he rudely marched up to the group and, without the formality of a
greeting, pointedly addressed the Stanton girls.
"What does i=
t mean?"
he demanded in evident excitement, for his voice shook and the accusing fin=
ger
he held out trembled. "How does it happen that my people, under contra=
ct
to work for the Continental, are working for other firms?"
Maud paled and her
eyes glistened with resentment as she rose and faced her manager. Florence
pulled her sister's sleeve and said with a forced laugh: "Sit down, Ma=
ud;
the man has probably been drinking."
He turned on the
young girl fiercely, but now it was Arthur Weldon who seized the manager's =
arm
and whirled him around.
"Sir, you are
intruding," he said sternly. "If you have business with these lad=
ies,
choose the proper time and place to address them."
"I have!&quo=
t;
cried Goldstein, blusteringly. "They have treated me shamefully--unpro=
fessionally!
They have played me a trick, and I've the right to demand why they are work=
ing
for a rival firm while in my pay."
Mrs. Montrose now
arose and said with quiet dignity:
"Mr. Goldste=
in,
you are intruding, as Mr. Weldon says. But you have said so much to defame =
my
nieces in the eyes of our friends, here assembled, that you must explain
yourself more fully."
The manager seemed
astonished by his reception. He looked from one to another and said more
mildly:
"It is easy
enough for me to explain, but how can the Stantons explain their conduct? T=
hey
are under contract to act exclusively for the Continental Film Company and I
pay them a liberal salary. Yet only yesterday, when I was kind enough to gi=
ve
them a holiday, they went down to the beach and posed for a picture for our
rivals, the Corona Company!"
"You are
mistaken, sir!" retorted Arthur. "The young ladies were in our co=
mpany
the entire afternoon and they did not pose for any picture whatever." =
"Don't tell
me!" cried Goldstein. "I've just seen the picture down town. I was
going by one of the theatres when I noticed a placard that read: 'Sensation=
al
Film by Maud Stanton, the Queen of Motion Picture Actresses, entitled "=
;A
Gallant Rescue!" First run to-night.' I went in and saw the picture--w=
ith
my own eyes!--and I saw Maud Stanton in a sea scene, rescuing a man who was
drowning. Don't deny it, Miss," he added, turning upon Maud fiercely.
"I saw it with my own eyes--not an hour ago!"
After a moment's
amazed silence his hearers broke into a chorus of laughter, led by Flo, who=
was
almost hysterical. Even A. Jones smiled indulgently upon the irate manager,=
who
was now fairly bristling with indignation.
"The Corona
people," remarked Arthur Weldon, "are quite enterprising. I did n=
ot
know they had a camera-man at the beach yesterday, but he must have secured=
a
very interesting picture. It was not posed, Mr. Goldstein, but taken from
life."
"It was Maud
Stanton!" asserted, the manager.
"Yes; she and
some others. A man was really drowning and the brave girl swam to his rescu=
e,
without a thought of posing."
"I don't bel=
ieve
it!" cried the man rudely.
Here A. Jones
struggled to his feet.
"It is
true," he said. "I was the drowning man whom Miss Stanton
saved."
Goldstein eyed him
shrewdly.
"Perhaps you
were," he admitted, "for the man in the picture was about your st=
yle
of make-up. But how can you prove it was not a put-up job with the Corona
people? How do I know you are not all in the employ of the Corona people?&q=
uot;
"I give you =
my
word."
"Pah! I don't
know you."
"I see you
don't," returned the youth stiffly.
"Here is my
card. Perhaps you will recognize the name."
He fumbled in his
pocket, took out a card and handed it to the manager. Goldstein looked at i=
t,
started, turned red and then white and began bobbing his head with absurd
deference to the youth.
"Pardon, Mr.
Jones--pardon!" he gasped. "I--I heard you were in our neighborho=
od,
but I--I did not recognize you. I--I hope you will pardon me, Mr. Jones! I =
was
angry at what I supposed was the treachery of an employee. You
will--will--understand that, I am sure. It is my duty to protect the intere=
sts
of the Continental, you know, sir. But it's all right now, of course! Isn't=
it
all right now, Mr. Jones?"
"You'd better
go, Goldstein," said the boy in a weary tone, and sat down again.
The manager
hesitated. Then he bowed to Maud Stanton and to the others, murmuring:
"All a mista=
ke,
you see; all a mistake. I--I beg everybody's pardon."
With this he back=
ed
away, still bowing, and finally turned and beat a hasty retreat. But no one=
was
noticing him especially. All eyes were regarding the boy with a new curiosi=
ty.
"That Goldst=
ein
is an ill-bred boor!" remarked Uncle John in an annoyed tone.
"I
suppose," said Maud, slowly, "he thought he was right in demandin=
g an
explanation. There is great rivalry between the various film manufacturers =
and
it was rather mean of the Corona to put my name on that placard."
"It's
wonderful!" exclaimed Patsy. "How did they get the picture, do you
suppose?"
"They have
camera-men everywhere, looking for some picture worth while." explained
Mrs. Montrose. "If there's a fire, the chances are a camera-man is on =
the
spot before the firemen arrive. If there's an accident, it is often caught =
by
the camera before the victim realizes what has happened. Perhaps a camera-m=
an
has been at the beach for weeks, waiting patiently for some tragedy to occu=
r.
Anyway, he was on hand yesterday and quietly ran his film during the excite=
ment
of the rescue. He was in rare luck to get Maud, because she is a favorite w=
ith
the public; but it was not fair to connect her name with the picture, when =
they
know she is employed by the Continental."
Young Jones rose =
from
his chair with a gesture of weariness.
"If you will
excuse me," he said, "I will go to my room. Our little conversati=
on
has given me much pleasure; I'm so alone in the world. Perhaps you will all=
ow
me to join you again--some other time?"
They hastened to
assure him his presence would always be welcome. Patsy even added, with her
cheery smile, that they felt a certain proprietorship in him since they had
dragged him from a watery grave. The boy showed, as he walked away, that he=
was
not yet very steady on his feet, but whether the weakness was the result of=
his
malady or his recent trying experience they could not determine.
"What stagge=
rs
me," said Maud, looking after him, "is the effect his name had on
Goldstein, who has little respect or consideration for anyone. Who do you
suppose A. Jones is?"
"Why, he has
told us," replied Louise. "He is an islander, on his first visit =
to
this country."
"He must be
rather more than that," declared Arthur. "Do you remember what the
manager said to him?"
"Yes," =
said
Beth. "He had heard that A. Jones was in this neighborhood, but had ne=
ver
met him. A. Jones was a person of sufficient importance to make the general
manager of the Continental Film Company tremble in his boots."
"He really d=
id
tremble," asserted Patsy, "and he was abject in his apologies.&qu=
ot;
"Showing,&qu=
ot;
added Flo Stanton, "that Goldstein is afraid of him."
"I wonder
why," said Maud.
"It is all v=
ery
easy of solution," remarked Arthur. "Goldstein believes that Jone=
s is
in the market to buy films. Perhaps he's going to open a motion picture the=
atre
on his island. So the manager didn't want to antagonize a good customer.&qu=
ot;
"That's
it," said Uncle John, nodding approval. "There's no great mystery=
about
young Jones, I'm sure."
Next morning Uncle
John and the Weldons--including the precious baby--went for a ride into the
mountains, while Beth and Patsy took their embroidery into a sunny corner of
the hotel lobby.
It was nearly ten
o'clock when A. Jones discovered the two girls and came tottering toward th=
em.
Tottering is the right word; he fairly swayed as he made his way to the
secluded corner.
"I wish he'd=
use
a cane," muttered Beth in an undertone. "I have the feeling that =
he's
liable to bump his nose any minute."
Patsy drew up a c=
hair
for him, although he endeavored to prevent her.
"Are you fee=
ling
better this morning?" she inquired.
"I--I think
so," he answered doubtfully. "I don't seem to get back my strengt=
h,
you see."
"Were you
stronger before your accident?" asked Beth.
"Yes, indeed=
. I
went swimming, you remember. But perhaps I was not strong enough to do that=
. I--I'm
very careful of myself, yet I seem to grow weaker all the time."
There was a brief
silence, during which the girls plied their needles.
"Are you goi=
ng
to stay in this hotel?" demanded Patsy, in her blunt way.
"For a time,=
I
think. It is very pleasant here," he said.
"Have you had
breakfast?"
"I took a
food-tablet at daybreak."
"Huh!" A
scornful exclamation. Then she glanced at the open door of the dining-hall =
and
laying aside her work she rose with a determined air and said:
"Come with
me!"
"Where?"=
;
For answer she
assisted him to rise. Then she took his hand and marched him across the lob=
by
to the dining room.
He seemed astonis=
hed
at this proceeding but made no resistance. Seated at a small table she call=
ed a
waitress and said:
"Bring a cup=
of
chocolate, a soft-boiled egg and some toast."
"Pardon me, =
Miss
Doyle," he said; "I thought you had breakfasted."
"So I
have," she replied. "The breakfast I've ordered is for you, and y=
ou're
going to eat it if I have to ram it down your throat."
"But--Miss
Doyle!"
"You've told=
us
you are doomed. Well, you're going to die with a full stomach."
"But the
doctor--"
"Bother the
doctor! I'm your doctor, now, and I won't send in a bill, thank your
stars."
He looked at her =
with
his sad little smile.
"Isn't this a
rather high-handed proceeding, Miss Doyle?"
"Perhaps.&qu=
ot;
"I haven't
employed you as my physician, you know."
"True. But
you've deliberately put yourself in my power."
"How?" =
"In the first
place, you tagged us here to this hotel."
"You don't m=
ind,
do you?"
"Not in the
least. It's a public hostelry. In the second place, you confided to us your
disease and your treatment of it--which was really none of our business.&qu=
ot;
"I--I was wr=
ong
to do that. But you led me on and--I'm so lonely--and you all seemed so
generous and sympathetic--that I--I--"
"That you
unwittingly posted us concerning your real trouble. Do you realize what it =
is?
You're a hypo--hypo--what do they call it?--hypochondriac!"
"I am not!&q=
uot;
"And your
doctor--your famous specialist--is a fool."
"Oh, Miss
Doyle!"
"Also you are
a--a chump, to follow his fool advice. You don't need sympathy, Mr. A. Jone=
s.
What you need is a slapstick."
"A--a--"=
;
"A slapstick.
And that's what you're going to get if you don't obey orders."
Here the maid set
down the breakfast, ranging the dishes invitingly before the invalid. His f=
ace
had expressed all the emotions from amazement to terror during Patsy's tira=
de
and now he gazed from her firm, determined features to the eggs and toast, =
in
an uncertain, helpless way that caused the girl a severe effort to curb a b=
urst
of laughter.
"Now,
then," she said, "get busy. I'll fix your egg. Do you want more s=
ugar
in your chocolate? Taste it and see. And if you don't butter that toast bef=
ore
it gets cold it won't be fit to eat."
He looked at her
steadily now, again smiling.
"You're not
joking, Miss Doyle?"
"I'm in dead
earnest."
"Of course y=
ou
realize this is the--the end?"
"Of your
foolishness? I hope so. You used to eat like a sensible boy, didn't you?&qu=
ot;
"When I was
well."
"You're well
now. Your only need is sustaining, strengthening food. I came near ordering=
you
a beefsteak, but I'll reserve that for lunch."
He sipped the
chocolate.
"Yes; it nee=
ds
more sugar," he said quietly. "Will you please butter my toast? It
seems to me such a breakfast is worth months of suffering. How delicious th=
is
egg is! It was the fragrance of the egg and toast that conquered me. That,
and--"
"And one
sensible, determined girl. Don't look at me as if I were a murderess! I'm y=
our best
friend--a friend in need. And don't choke down your food. Eat slowly.
Fletcherize--chew your food, you know. I know you're nearly famished, but y=
ou
must gradually accustom yourself to a proper diet."
He obeyed meekly.
Patsy's face was calm, but her heart beat fast, with a thrill of fear she c=
ould
not repress. Acting on impulse, as she had, the girl now began to consider =
that
she was personally responsible for whatever result might follow this radical
treatment for dyspepsia. Had she been positive it was dyspepsia, she would
never have dared interfere with a doctor's orders; but she felt that the boy
needed food and would die unless he had it. He might die from the effect of
this unusual repast, in which case she would never forgive herself.
Meantime, the boy=
had
cast aside all fear. He had protested, indeed, but his protests being overr=
uled
he accepted his food and its possible consequences with philosophic resigna=
tion
and a growing satisfaction.
Patsy balked on t=
he
third slice of toast and took it away from him. She also denied him a second
cup of chocolate. He leaned back in his chair with a sigh of content and sa=
id:
"Bless the h=
en
that laid that egg! No dainty was ever more delicious. And now," he ad=
ded,
rising, "let us go and inquire the address of a good undertaker. I have
made my will, and I'd like to be cremated--it's so much nicer than the
old-fashioned burial, don't you think?"
"I'll attend=
to
all that, if you wish," she replied, trying to repress a shudder as she
followed him from the room. "Do you smoke?"
"I used to, =
but
the doctor forbade it; so I gave it up entirely."
"Go over to =
that
stand and buy a cigar. Then you may sit beside Beth and me and smoke it.&qu=
ot;
The girl did not
wholly approve of smoking and had often chided Uncle John and her father and
Arthur Weldon for indulging in the habit; but this advice to young Jones was
given in desperation, because all the men of her family stoutly affirmed th=
at a
cigar after a meal assisted digestion. She resumed her former seat beside B=
eth,
and her cousin quickly read the anxiety on her face.
"What did you
do, Patricia?"
"I fed
him."
"Did he real=
ly
eat?"
"Like a star=
ved
cat."
"Hm-m-m,&quo=
t;
said Beth. "What next, I wonder?"
Patsy wondered, t=
oo,
the cold shivers chasing one another up and down her back. The boy was comi=
ng
toward them, coolly puffing a cigar. He did not seem to totter quite so muc=
h as
before, but he was glad to sink into an easy chair.
"How do you
feel?" asked Beth, regarding him curiously.
"Like one of
those criminals who are pampered with all the good things of life before be=
ing
led to the scaffold."
"Any
pains?"
He shook his head=
.
"Not yet. I'=
ve
asked the clerk, whenever I signal him, to send someone to carry me to my r=
oom.
If I'm not able to say good-bye to you, please accept now my thanks for all
your kindness to a stranger. You see, I'm not sure whether I'll have a sudd=
en
seizure or the pains will come on gradually."
"What
pains?" demanded Patsy.
"I can't exp=
lain
them. Don't you believe something is bound to happen?" he inquired,
nervously removing the ash from his cigar.
"To be sure.
You're going to get well."
He made no reply,=
but
sat watching Beth's nimble fingers. Patsy was too excited to resume her
embroidery.
"I wonder if=
you
are old enough to smoke?" remarked Beth.
"I'm over
twenty-one."
"Indeed! We
decided you were about eighteen."
"But we are =
not
Spanish in Sangoa."
"What are yo=
ur
people?"
"Formerly all
Americans. The younger generation are, like myself I suppose, Sangoans by
birth. But there isn't a black or yellow or brown man on our island." =
"How many
inhabitants has Sangoa?"
"About six
hundred, all told."
There was silence=
for
a while.
"Any pains
yet?" inquired Beth.
"Not yet. But
I'm feeling drowsy. With your permission I'll lie down and take a nap. I sl=
ept
very little last night."
He threw away his
cigar, which he had smoked nearly to the end, and rising without assistance,
bowed and walked away.
"Will he ever
waken, I wonder?" said Beth softly.
"Of
course," declared Patsy. "He has crossed the Rubicon and is going=
to get
well. I feel it in my bones!"
"Let us
hope," responded Beth, "that Ajo also feels it in his bones, rath=
er
than in his stomach."
The day advanced =
to
luncheon time and Uncle John and the Weldons came back from their mountain
trip. Hollywood is in the foothills and over the passes are superb automobi=
le
roads into the fruitful valleys of San Fernando and La Canada.
"Seen anythi=
ng
of the boy--A. Jones?" inquired Arthur.
"Yes; and
perhaps we've seen the last of him," answered Beth.
"Oh. Has he
gone?"
"No one know=
s.
Patsy fed him and he went to sleep. What has happened since we cannot
tell."
The girls then
related the experiences of the morning, at which both Uncle John and Arthur
looked solemn and uncomfortable. But Louise said calmly:
"I think Pat= sy was quite right. I wouldn't have dared such a thing myself, but I'm sure th= at boy needed a square meal more than anything. If he dies, that breakfast has merely hastened his end; but if he doesn't die it will do him good." <= o:p>
"There's ano=
ther
possibility," remarked Uncle John. "He may be suffering agonies w=
ith
no one to help him."
Patsy's face was
white as chalk. The last hour or two had brought her considerable anxiety a=
nd
her uncle's horrible suggestion quite unnerved her. She stole away to the
office and inquired the number of Mr. Jones' room. It was on the ground flo=
or
and easily reached by a passage. The girl tiptoed up to the door and putting
her ear to the panel listened intently. A moment later a smile broke over h=
er
face; she chuckled delightedly and then turned and ran buck to her friends.=
"He's snoring
like a walrus!" she cried triumphantly.
"Are you sure
they are not groans?" asked Arthur.
"Pah! Can't I
recognize a snore when I hear it? And I'll bet it's the first sound sleep h=
e's
had in a month."
Mr. Merrick and
Arthur went to the door of the boy's room to satisfy themselves that Patsy =
was
not mistaken, and the regularity of the sounds quickly convinced them the g=
irl
was right. So they had a merry party at luncheon, calling Patsy
"Doctor" with grave deference and telling her she had probably sa=
ved
the life of A. Jones for a second time.
"And now,&qu= ot; proposed Uncle John, when the repast was over, "let us drive down to t= he sea and have a look at that beautiful launch that came in yesterday. Everyo= ne is talking about it and they say it belongs to some foreign prince." <= o:p>
So they motored to
Santa Monica and spent the afternoon on the sands, watching the bathers and
admiring the graceful outlines of the big yacht lying at anchor a half mile
from the shore. The boat was something of a mystery to everybody. It was na=
med
the "Arabella" and had come from Hawaii via San Francisco; but wh=
at
it was doing here and who the owner might be were questions no one seemed a=
ble
to answer. Rumor had it that a Japanese prince had come in it to inspect the
coast line, but newspaper reporters were forbidden to scale the side and no
satisfaction was given their eager questioning by the bluff old captain who
commanded the craft. So the girls snapped a few kodak pictures of the hands=
ome
yacht and then lost interest in it.
That evening they=
met
Mrs. Montrose and the Stanton girls at dinner and told them about the boy, =
who
still remained invisible. Uncle John had listened at his door again, but the
snores had ceased and a deathlike silence seemed to pervade the apartment. =
This
rendered them all a trifle uneasy and when they left the dining room Arthur
went to the hotel clerk and asked:
"Have you se=
en
Mr. Jones this evening?"
"No," w=
as
the reply. "Do you know him?"
"Very
slightly."
"Well, he's =
the
queerest guest we've ever had. The first day he ate nothing at all. This
morning I hear he had a late breakfast. Wasn't around to lunch, but a little
while ago we sent a meal to his room that would surprise you."
"Indeed!&quo=
t;
"Yes. A stra=
nge
order it was! Broiled mushrooms, pancakes with maple syrup and ice cream. H=
ow
is that for a mix-up--and at dinner time, too!" said the clerk,
disgustedly.
Arthur went back =
and
reported.
"All right,&=
quot;
said Patsy, much relieved. "We've got him started and now he can take =
care
of himself. Come, Uncle; let's all go down town and see the picture that dr=
ove
Mr. Goldstein crazy."
"He was very
decent to us to-day," asserted Flo Stanton.
"Did he ask =
any
explanation about Maud's appearing in the picture of a rival company?"
inquired Arthur.
"No, not a
word."
"Did he ment=
ion
Mr. Jones, who conquered him so mysteriously?" asked Beth.
"Not at all.
Goldstein confined himself strictly to business; but he treated us with unu=
sual
courtesy," explained Maud.
They were curious=
to
see the films of the rescue, and the entire party rode to the down-town the=
atre
where the Corona picture was being run. Outside the entrance they found the
audacious placard, worded just as Goldstein had reported, and they all agre=
ed
it was a mean trick to claim another firm's star as their own.
"I do not th=
ink
the Corona Company is responsible for this announcement," said Uncle J=
ohn.
"It is probably an idea of the theatre proprietor, who hoped to attract
big business in that way."
"He has
succeeded," grumbled Arthur, as he took his place at the end of a long
line of ticket buyers.
The picture, as it
flashed on the screen, positively thrilled them. First was shown the crowd =
of
merry bathers, with Patsy and Maud standing in the water a little apart from
the others. Then the boy--far out beyond the rest--threw up his arms,
struggling desperately. Maud swam swiftly toward him, Patsy making for the
shore. The launching of the boat, the race to rescue, Maud's effort to keep=
the
drowning one afloat, and the return to the shore, where an excited crowd
surrounded them--all was clearly shown in the picture. Now they had the
advantage of observing the expressions on the faces of the bathers when they
discovered a tragedy was being enacted in their midst. The photographs were=
so
full of action that the participants now looked upon their adventure in a n=
ew
light and regarded it far more seriously than before.
The picture concl=
uded
with the scene where Uncle John lifted the body into the automobile and das=
hed
away with it to the hospital.
Maud Stanton, use=
d as
she was to seeing herself in motion pictures, was even more impressed than =
the
others when observing her own actions at a time when she was wholly unconsc=
ious
that a camera-man had his lens focused upon her.
"It's a great
picture!" whispered Flo, as they made their way out of the crowded
theatre. "Why can't all our films be as natural and absorbing as this
one?"
"Because,&qu=
ot;
said her sister, "in this case there is no acting. The picture carries
conviction with a force that no carefully rehearsed scene could ever
accomplish."
"That is
true," agreed her Aunt Jane. "The nature scenes are the best, aft=
er
all."
"The most
unsatisfactory pictures I have ever seen," remarked Uncle John, "=
were
those of prominent men, and foreign kings, and the like, who stop before the
camera and bow as awkwardly as a camel. They know they are posing, and in s=
pite
of their public experience they're as bashful as schoolboys or as arrogant =
as
policemen, according to their personal characteristics."
"Did you not=
ice
the mob of children in that theatre?" asked Patsy, as they proceeded
homeward. "I wish there were more pictures made that are suitable to t=
heir
understandings."
"They enjoy
anything in the way of a picture," said Arthur. "It isn't necessa=
ry
to cater to children; they'll go anyhow, whatever is shown."
"That may be=
, to
an extent, true," said Beth. "Children are fascinated by any sort=
of
motion pictures, but a lot of them must be wholly incomprehensible to the c=
hild
mind. I agree with Patsy that the little ones ought to have their own theat=
res
and their own pictures."
"That will c=
ome,
in time," prophesied Aunt Jane. "Already the film makers are
recognizing the value of the children's patronage and are trying to find
subjects that especially appeal to them."
They reached the
hotel soon after ten o'clock and found "Ajo" seated in the lobby.=
He
appeared much brighter and stronger than the day before and rose to greet P=
atsy
with a smile that had lost much of its former sad expression.
"Congratulate
me, Dr. Doyle," said he. "I'm still alive, and--thanks to your
prescription--going as well as could be expected."
"I'm glad I =
did
the right thing," she replied; "but we were all a little worried =
for
fear I'd make a mistake."
"I have just
thrown away about a thousand of those food-tablets," he informed her w=
ith
an air of pride. "I am positive there is no substitute for real food,
whatever the specialists may say. In fact," he continued more soberly,
"I believe you have rescued me a second time from certain death, for n=
ow I
have acquired a new hope and have made up my mind to get well."
"Be careful =
not
to overdo it," cautioned Uncle John. "You ordered a queer supper,=
we
hear."
"But it seem=
ed
to agree with me. I've had a delightful sleep--the first sound sleep in a
month--and already I feel like a new man. I waited up to tell you this, hop=
ing
you would be interested."
"We are!&quo=
t;
exclaimed Patsy, who felt both pride and pleasure. "This evening we ha=
ve
been to see the motion picture of your rescue from drowning."
"Oh. How did=
you
like it?"
"It's a sple=
ndid
picture. I'm not sure it will interest others as much as ourselves, yet the
people present seemed to like it."
"Well it was=
their
last chance to observe my desperate peril and my heroic rescue," said =
the
boy. "The picture will not be shown after to-night."
"Why not?&qu=
ot;
they asked, in surprise.
"I bought the
thing this afternoon. It didn't seem to me quite modest to exploit our litt=
le
adventure in public."
This was a new ph=
ase
of the strange boy's character and the girls did not know whether to approv=
e it
or not.
"It must have
cost you something!" remarked Flo, the irrepressible. "Besides, h=
ow
could you do it while you were asleep?"
"Why, I wake=
ned
long enough to use the telephone," he replied with a smile. "There
are more wonderful inventions in the world than motion pictures, you
know."
"But you like
motion pictures, don't you?" asked Maud, wondering why he had suppress=
ed
the film in question.
"Very much. =
In
fact, I am more interested in them than in anything else, not excepting the
telephone--which makes Aladdin's lamp look like a firefly in the
sunshine."
"I
suppose," said Flo, staring into his face with curious interest, "=
;that
you will introduce motion pictures into your island of Sangoa, when you
return?"
"I suppose
so," he answered, a little absently. "I had not considered that
seriously, as yet, but my people would appreciate such a treat, I'm sure.&q=
uot;
This speech seeme=
d to
destroy, in a manner, their shrewd conjecture that he was in America to
purchase large quantities of films. Why, then, should Goldstein have paid s=
uch
abject deference to this unknown islander?
In his own room,
after the party had separated for the night, Mr. Merrick remarked to Arthur
Weldon as they sat smoking their cigars:
"Young Jones=
is
evidently possessed of some means."
"So it
seems," replied Arthur. "Perhaps his father, the scientific reclu=
se,
had accumulated some money, and the boy came to America to get rid of it. He
will be extravagant and wasteful for awhile, and then go back to his island
with the idea that he has seen the world."
Uncle John nodded=
.
"He is a rat=
her
clean-cut young fellow," said he, "and the chances are he won't
become dissipated, even though he loses his money through lack of worldly
knowledge or business experience. A boy brought up and educated on an island
can't be expected to prove very shrewd, and whatever the extent of his fort=
une
it is liable to melt like snow in the sunshine."
"After
all," returned Arthur, "this experience won't hurt him. He will s=
till
have his island to return to."
They smoked for a
time in silence.
"Has it ever
occurred to you, sir," said Arthur, "that the story Jones has rel=
ated
to us, meager though it is, bears somewhat the stamp of a fairy tale?"=
Uncle John removed
his cigar and looked reflectively at the ash.
"You mean th=
at
the boy is not what he seems?"
"Scarcely th=
at,
sir. He seems like a good boy, in the main. But his story is--such as one m=
ight
invent if he were loath to tell the truth."
Uncle John struck=
a
match and relit his cigar.
"I believe i=
n A.
Jones, and I see no reason to doubt his story," he asserted. "If =
real
life was not full of romance and surprises, the novelists would be unable to
interest us in their books."
The day had not
started auspiciously for the Stanton sisters. Soon after they arrived at the
Continental Film Company's plant Maud had wrenched her ankle by stumbling o=
ver some
loose planks which had been carelessly left on the open-air stage, and she =
was
now lying upon a sofa in the manager's room with her limb bandaged and soak=
ed
with liniment.
Flo was having
troubles, too. A girl who had been selected by the producer to fall from an
aeroplane in mid-air had sent word she was ill and could not work to-day, a=
nd
the producer had ordered Flo to prepare for the part. Indignantly she sought
the manager, to file a protest, and while she waited in the anteroom for an
audience, Mr. A. Jones of Sangoa came in and greeted her with a bow and a
smile.
"Good gracio=
us!
Where did you come from?" she inquired.
"My hotel. I=
've
just driven over to see Goldstein," he replied.
"You'll have=
to
wait, I'm afraid," she warned him. "The manager is busy just now.
I've been wiggling on this bench half an hour, and haven't seen him yet--an=
d my
business is very important."
"So is mine,
Miss Flo," he rejoined, looking at her with an odd expression. Then, a=
s a
stenographer came hurrying from the inner room, he stopped the girl and sai=
d:
"Please take=
my
card to Mr. Goldstein."
"Oh, he won't
see anybody now, for he's busy talking with one of our producers. You'll ha=
ve
to call again," she said flippantly. But even as she spoke she glanced=
at
the card, started and turned red. "Oh, pardon me!" she added hast=
ily
and fled back to the managerial sanctum.
"That's
funny!" muttered Flo, half to herself.
"Yes," =
he
said, laughing, "my cards are charged with electricity, and they're bo=
und
to galvanize anyone in this establishment. Come in, Miss Flo," he adde=
d,
as Goldstein rushed out of his office to greet the boy effusively; "yo=
ur
business takes precedence to mine, you know."
The manager usher=
ed
them into his office, a big room with a busy aspect. At one end were two or
three girls industriously thumping typewriters; McNeil, the producer, was
sorting manuscript on Goldstein's own desk; a young man who served as the
manager's private secretary was poring over a voluminous record-book, where=
in
were listed all the films ever made by the manufacturers of the world. On a
sofa in a far corner reclined the injured "star" of the company, =
Maud
Stanton, who--being half asleep at the moment--did not notice the entrance =
of
her sister and young Jones.
"Sit down, M=
r.
Jones; pray sit down!" exclaimed Goldstein eagerly, pointing to his own
chair. "Would you like me to clear the room, so that our conversation =
may
be private?"
"Not yet,&qu=
ot;
replied the boy, refusing the seat of honor and taking a vacant chair.
"Miss Stanton has precedence, and I believe she wishes to speak with
you."
Goldstein took his
seat at the desk and cast an inquiring glance at Flo.
"Well?"=
he
demanded, impatiently.
"Mr. Werner =
has
ordered me to do the airship stunt for his picture, because Nance Holden is=
n't
here to-day," began the girl.
"Well, why a=
nnoy
me with such trifles? Werner knows what he wants, and you'll do as well as =
the
Holden girl."
"But I don't
want to tumble out of that airship," she protested.
"There's no
danger. Life nets will be spread underneath the aeroplane," said the
manager. "The camera merely catches you as you are falling, so the thi=
ng
won't be more than twenty or thirty feet from the ground. Now run away and
don't bother. I must speak with Mr. Jones."
"But I'm afr=
aid,
Mr. Goldstein!" pleaded the girl. "I don't want to go up in the
aeroplane, and these stunts are not in my line, or what I was engaged to
do."
"You'll do w=
hat
I tell you!" asserted the manager, with marked irritation. "I won=
't
stand for any rebellion among my actors, and you'll do as Werner orders or
you'll forfeit your week's pay."
Here Maud half ro=
se
from her sofa to address her employer.
"Please, Mr.
Goldstein," she said, "don't make Flo do that fall. There are ple=
nty
of other girls to take her place, and she--"
"Silence, Mi=
ss
Stanton!" roared the manager. "You'll disrupt all discipline if y=
ou
interfere. A nice time we'd have here, if we allowed our actors to choose t=
heir
own parts! I insist that your sister obey my producer's orders."
"Quite right,
Goldstein," remarked young Jones, in his quiet voice. "You've car=
ried
your point and maintained discipline. I like that. Miss Flo Stanton will do
exactly what you request her to do. But you're going to change your mind and
think better of her protest. I'm almost sure, Goldstein, from the expressio=
n of
your face, that you intend to issue prompt orders that another girl must ta=
ke
her place."
Goldstein looked =
at
him steadily a moment and the arrogant expression changed to one of meek
subservience.
"To be
sure!" he muttered. "You have read my mind accurately, Mr. Jones.=
Here,
Judd," to his secretary, "find Werner and tell him I don't approv=
e his
choice of Flo Stanton as a substitute for Nance Holden. Let's see; tell him=
to
put that Moore girl in her place."
The young fellow
bowed and left the room. McNeil smiled slyly to himself as he bent over his
manuscript. Jones had gone to Maud's side to inquire anxiously after her
injury.
"I don't ima=
gine
it will amount to much," she said reassuringly. "Mr. Goldstein wa=
nts
me to rest quietly until this afternoon, when our new photo-play is to be
produced. I'm to do the leading part, you know, and he thinks I'll be able =
by
that time to get through all right."
Goldstein overhea=
rd
this and came toward them, rubbing his hands together nervously.
"That seems unwise, Miss Maud," objected Jones. "To use your foot so soon mig= ht make it much worse. Let us postpone the play until some other time." <= o:p>
Goldstein's face =
was
a study. His body twitched spasmodically.
"Oh, Mr.
Jones!" he exclaimed; "that's impossible; it wouldn't do at all!
We've been rehearsing this play and preparing for its production for the la=
st
two weeks, and to-day all our actors and assistants are here and ready to m=
ake
the picture. I've already postponed it four hours--until this afternoon--to
favor Miss Stanton, but, really--"
"Never mind =
the
details," interrupted the boy. "I do not consider Miss Stanton ab=
le
to do her work to-day. Send her back to her hotel at once and order the play
postponed until she is able to attend."
Goldstein was gre=
atly
disturbed by this order, issued quietly but in a tone of command that brook=
ed
no opposition. Again he glanced shrewdly at the young man, and in the manag=
er's
face astonishment and fear were intermingled.
"Sir," =
he
said in repressed tones, for he was really angry and had been accustomed to
wield the power of an autocrat in this establishment, "you are placing=
me
in an embarrassing position. I am expected to make every day count, so that=
the
Continental may pay a liberal profit to its owners. To follow your instruct=
ions
would burden us with an enormous expense, quite useless, I assure you,
and--"
"Very well.
Incur the expense, Goldstein."
"All right, =
Mr.
Jones. Excuse me a moment while I issue instructions for the
postponement."
McNeil rose and f=
aced
the manager.
"Are you rea=
lly
going to postpone this important play?" he demanded, in a voice of won=
der.
Goldstein was gla=
d to
vent his chagrin on the producer.
"No insolenc=
e,
sir!" he roared. "Come with me, and," as he dragged McNeil to
the door and paused there, "if you dare lisp a word of what you've ove=
rheard,
I'll fire you like a shot!"
When they had left
the room Maud said with a puzzled air:
"I can't
understand your power over Goldstein, Mr. Jones. He is a dictator--almost a=
tyrant--and
in this place his word is law. At least, it was until you came,
and--and--"
"Don't try to
understand it, Miss Stanton," he answered in a careless manner. "=
Do
you think you can manage to crawl to the automobile, or shall we carry
you?"
"I'll bet
Goldstein has murdered someone, and Mr. Jones knows all about it!"
exclaimed Flo, who had been an interested witness of the scene.
Maud stood up, wi=
th
her sister's support, and tested her lame ankle.
"It still hu=
rts
a little," she said, "but I can manage to hobble on it."
"Get your
sister's wraps," the boy said to Flo, "and we'll send her straight
home."
"I expect
Goldstein will dock my salary, as well as fine Flo," remarked Maud
musingly, as she waited for her hat and coat. "He obeyed you very meek=
ly,
Mr. Jones, but I could see a wicked glitter in his eye, nevertheless."=
"I am sure t=
he
manager will neither dock nor fine either of you," he replied
reassuringly. "On the contrary, you might sue the company for damages,=
for
leaving that lumber where you would fall over it."
"Oh, no,&quo=
t;
she returned, laughing at the idea. "We have signed contracts waiving =
any
damages for injuries sustained while at work on the premises. We all have t=
o do
that, you know, because the business is hazardous at its best. On the other
hand, Mr. Goldstein has a physician and surgeon always within call, in case=
of
accident, and the service is quite free to all the employees."
He nodded.
"I know. But=
the
fact that you signed such a contract, under compulsion, would not prevent t=
he court
from awarding damages, if you sustained them while on duty."
"This hurt is
nothing of importance," she said hastily. "In a day or two I shal=
l be
able to walk as well as ever."
Flo came running =
back
with Maud's things. Aunt Jane followed, saying that if Maud was to go to the
hotel she would accompany her and take care of her.
"I've examin=
ed
the ankle," she said to young Jones, "and I assure you it is not a
severe strain. But it is true that she will be better off in her own room,
where she can rest quietly. So I will go with her."
"How about M=
iss
Flo?" asked the boy.
"Flo is very
self-reliant and will get along to-day very nicely without me," replied
Mrs. Montrose.
Mr. Goldstein
entered, frowning and still resenting the interference of this Mr. A. Jones=
of
Sangoa. But he ventured no further protest nor did he speak until Maud, Flo=
and
Aunt Jane had all left the room.
"You're not
going, Mr. Jones?" he asked.
"Only to see
Miss Stanton started for home. Then I'll come back and have a little talk w=
ith
you."
"Thank you,
sir."
"Well, Aunt
Jane," said Maud Stanton, when their car was rolling toward the hotel =
and
the girl had related the remarkable interview in the office, "what do =
you
think of Ajo now?"
"He is certa=
inly
an amazing young man," was the reply. "I cannot in any way figure=
out
his connection with Goldstein, or his power over the man. The Continental F=
ilm
Manufacturing Company is a great corporation, with headquarters in New York,
and Mr. Goldstein is the authorized head and manager of the concern on the
Pacific coast. I understand his salary is ten thousand a year. On the other
hand, young Jones has only been in this country for a year, coming from an
insignificant island somewhere in the South Seas, where he was born and rea=
red.
Much of the time since he arrived in America he has been an invalid. Aside =
from
this meager information, no one seems to know anything about him."
"Putting the
case that way makes it all the more remarkable," observed Maud. "A
big, experienced, important man, cowed by a mere boy. When Goldstein first =
met
this callow, sallow youth, he trembled before him. When the boy enters the
office of the great film company he dictates to the manager, who meekly obe=
ys
him. Remember, too, that A. Jones, by his interference, has caused a direct
loss to the company, which Goldstein will have to explain, as best he may, =
in
his weekly report to the New York office. A more astonishing state of affai=
rs
could not be imagined, Aunt Jane!"
"The puzzle =
will
solve itself presently," said the lady. "Abnormal conditions seld=
om
last long."
Maud passed the d=
ay
in bed, quietly reading a book. Her injury was really slight and with rest =
it
mended rapidly. Patsy and Beth came in to see her and in the conversation t=
hat
ensued the girls were told of the latest mystery surrounding A. Jones.
"It is surely queer!" admitted Miss Doyle, impressed and thoughtful. "Uncle John and Arthur were saying this noon, at lunch, that Ajo was a helpless sort of individual and easily influenced by others--as witness his caving in to me = when I opposed his doctor's treatment. Arthur thinks he has come to this country= to squander what little money his father left him and that his public career outside the limits of his little island will be brief. Yet according to your story the boy is no weakling but has power and knows how to use it." <= o:p>
"He surely l=
aid
down the law to Goldstein," said Maud.
"He is very
young," remarked Beth, ignoring the fact that she was herself no older,
"and perhaps that is why we attach so much importance to his actions. A
grown-up man is seldom astonishing, however eccentric he may prove to be. I=
n a
boy we expect only boyishness, and young Jones has interested us because he=
is
unique."
After a little th=
e conversation
drifted to motion pictures, for both Patsy and Beth were eager to learn all
about the business details of film making, which Maud, by reason of her mon=
ths
of experience, was able to explain to them in a comprehensive manner. Flo c=
ame
home toward evening, but had little more to tell them, as the day had passed
very quietly at the "studio." Jones had remained closeted with the
manager for a full hour, and it was remarked that after he had gone away
Goldstein was somewhat subdued and performed his duties less aggressively t=
han
usual.
Maud's visitors n=
ow
left her to dress for dinner, at which meal she was able to rejoin them,
walking with a slight limp but otherwise recovered from her accident. To th=
eir
surprise, young Jones appeared as they were entering the dining room and be=
gged
for a seat at their table. Uncle John at once ordered another place laid at=
the
big round table, which accommodated the company of nine very nicely.
Ajo sat between P=
atsy
and Maud and although he selected his dishes with some care he partook of a=
ll
the courses from soup to dessert.
The morning inter=
view
with Goldstein was not mentioned. Ajo inquired about Maud's hurt but then
changed the subject and conversed upon nearly everything but motion picture=
s.
However, after they had repaired to the hotel lobby and were seated togethe=
r in
a cosy, informal group, Patsy broached a project very near to her heart.
"Beth and
I," said she, "have decided to build a Children's Picture
Theatre."
"Where?"
asked Uncle John, rather startled by the proposition.
"Here, or in=
Los
Angeles," was the reply.
"You see,&qu=
ot;
explained Beth, "there is a crying need for a place where children may=
go
and see pictures that appeal especially to them and are, at the same time,
quite proper for them to witness. A great educational field is to be opened=
by
this venture, and Patsy and I would enjoy the work of creating the first
picture theatre, exclusively for children, ever established in America.&quo=
t;
"You may say,
'in the world,'" added Arthur. "I like this idea of yours, girls,=
and
I hope you will carry it out."
"Oh, they'll
carry it out, all right," remarked Uncle John. "I've been expecti=
ng
something of this sort, ever since we came here. My girls, Mr. Jones,"=
he
said, turning to the young man, "are always doing some quaint thing, or
indulging in some queer enterprise, for they're a restless lot. Before Loui=
se
married, she was usually in these skirmishes with fate, but now--"
"Oh, I shall
join Patsy and Beth, of course," asserted Louise. "It will make it
easier for all, to divide the expense between us, and I am as much interest=
ed
in pictures as they are."
"Perhaps,&qu=
ot;
said Patsy musingly, "we might build two theatres, in different parts =
of
the city. There are so many children to be amused. And we intend to make the
admission price five cents."
"Have you any
idea what it costs to build one of these picture theatres?" asked Arth=
ur.
"We're not g=
oing
to build one of 'these' theatres," retorted Patsy. "Many of the d=
ens
I've been in cost scarcely anything, being mere shelters. The city is strewn
with a lot of miserable, stuffy theatres that no one can enjoy sitting in, =
even
to see a good picture. We have talked this over and decided to erect a new
style of building, roomy and sanitary, with cushioned seats and plenty of b=
road
aisles. There are one or two of this class already in Los Angeles, but we w=
ant
to make our children's theatres a little better than the best."
"And the
expense?"
"Well, it wi=
ll
cost money, of course. But it will be a great delight to the children--bless
their little hearts!"
"This is rea=
lly
a business enterprise," added Beth gravely.
Uncle John chuckl=
ed
with amusement.
"Have you
figured out the profits?" he inquired.
"It really o=
ught
to pay, Uncle," declared Patsy, somewhat nettled by this flaccid recep=
tion
of her pet scheme. "All the children will insist on being taken to a p=
lace
like that, for we shall show just the pictures they love to see. And, allow=
ing
there is no money to be made from the venture, think of the joy we shall gi=
ve
to innumerable little ones!"
"Go ahead, my
dears," said Uncle John, smiling approval. "And, if you girls find
you haven't enough money to carry out your plans, come to me."
"Oh, thank y=
ou,
Uncle!" exclaimed Beth. "But I feel sure we can manage the cost
ourselves. We will build one of the theatres first, and if that is a succes=
s we
will build others."
"But about t=
hose
films, made especially for children," remarked Arthur. "Where will
you get them?"
"Why, there =
are
lots of firms making films," replied Patsy. "We can select from a=
ll
that are made the ones most suitable for our purpose."
"I fear you
cannot do that," said Mrs. Montrose, who had listened with wonder to t=
his
conversation. "There are three combinations, or 'trusts,' among the fi=
lm
makers, which are known as the Licensed, the Mutual and the Independents. If
you purchase from one of these trusts, you cannot get films from the others,
for that is their edict. Therefore you will have only about one-third of the
films made to select from."
"I thought m=
oney
would buy anything--in the way of merchandise," said Louise, half laug=
hing
and half indignant.
"Not from th=
ese
film dictators," was the reply.
"They all ma=
ke a
few children's pictures," announced Maud Stanton. "Even the
Continental turns out one occasionally. But there are not nearly enough, ta=
ken
all together, to supply an exclusive children's theatre."
"Then we will
have some made," declared Patsy. "We will order some fairy tales,
such as the children like. They would be splendid in motion pictures."=
"Some have
already been made and exhibited," said Mrs. Montrose. "The various
manufacturers have made films of the fairy tales of Hans Andersen, Frank Ba=
um,
Lewis Carroll and other well-known writers."
"And were th=
ey
successful?"
"Quite so, I
believe; but such films are seldom put out except at holiday time."
"I think,
Beth," said Patsy to her cousin, in a businesslike tone, "that we
must organize a company and make our own films. Then we can get exactly wha=
t we
want."
"Oh, yes!&qu=
ot;
replied Beth, delighted with the suggestion. "And let us get Maud and =
Flo
to act in our pictures. Won't it be exciting?"
"Pardon me,
young ladies," said A. Jones, speaking for the first time since this
subject had been broached. "Would it not be wise to consider the expen=
se
of making films, before you undertake it?"
Patsy looked at h=
im
inquiringly.
"Do you know
what the things cost?" she asked.
"I've some
idea," said he. "Feature films of fairy tales, such as you propos=
e,
cost at least two thousand dollars each to produce. You would need about th=
ree
for each performance, and you will have to change your programmes at least =
once
a week. That would mean an outlay of not less than six thousand dollars a w=
eek,
which is doubtless more money than your five-cent theatre could take in.&qu=
ot;
This argument
staggered the girls for a moment. Then Beth asked: "How do the ordinary
theatres manage?"
"The ordinary
theatre simply rents its pictures, paying about three hundred dollars a week
for the service. There is a 'middleman,' called the 'Exchange,' whose busin=
ess
is to buy the films from the makers and rent them to the theatres. He pays a
big price for a film, but is able to rent it to dozens of theatres, by turn=
s,
and by this method he not only gets back the money he has expended but make=
s a
liberal profit."
"Well,"
said Patsy, not to be baffled, "we could sell several copies of our fi=
lms
to these middlemen, and so reduce the expense of making them for our use.&q=
uot;
"The middlem=
an
won't buy them," asserted Jones. "He is the thrall of one or the
other of the trusts, and buys only trust pictures."
"I see,"
said Uncle John, catching the idea; "it's a scheme to destroy competit=
ion."
"Exactly,&qu=
ot;
replied young Jones.
"What does t=
he
Continental do, Maud?" asked Patsy.
"I don't
know," answered the girl; "but perhaps Aunt Jane can tell you.&qu=
ot;
"I believe t=
he
Continental is a sort of trust within itself," explained Mrs. Montrose.
"Since we have been connected with the company I have learned more or =
less
of its methods. It employs a dozen or so producing companies and makes thre=
e or
four pictures every week. The concern has its own Exchange, or middleman, w=
ho
rents only Continental films to the theatres that patronize him."
"Well, we mi=
ght
do the same thing," proposed Patsy, who was loath to abandon her plan.=
"You might, =
if
you have the capital," assented Mrs. Montrose. "The Continental i=
s an
immense corporation, and I am told it has more than a million dollars
invested."
"Two
millions," said A. Jones.
The girls were si=
lent
a while, seriously considering this startling assertion. They had, between
them, considerable money, but they realized they could not enter a field th=
at
required such an enormous investment as film making.
"I
suppose," said Beth regretfully, "we shall have to give up making
films."
"Then where =
are
we to get the proper pictures for our theatre?" demanded Patsy.
"It is quite
evident we can't get them," said Louise. "Therefore we may be obl=
iged
to abandon the theatre proposition."
Another silence,
still more grave. Uncle John was discreet enough to say nothing. The Stanto=
ns
and Mrs. Montrose felt it was not their affair. Arthur Weldon was slyly
enjoying the chagrin visible upon the faces of Mr. Merrick's three pretty
nieces.
As for A. Jones, =
he
was industriously figuring upon the back of an envelope with a stubby bit of
pencil.
It was the youthf=
ul
Sangoan who first broke the silence. Glancing at the figures he had made he
said:
"It is estim=
ated
that if twenty picture theatres use any one film--copies of it, of course--=
that
film will pay for its cost of making. Therefore, if you build twenty childr=
en's
theatres, instead of the one or two you originally proposed, you would be a=
ble
to manufacture your own films and they would be no expense to you."
They gazed at him=
in
bewilderment.
"That is all
simple enough!" laughed Arthur. "Twenty picture theatres at twenty
thousand dollars each--a low estimate, my dears, for such as you require--w=
ould
mean an investment of four hundred thousand dollars. A film factory, with
several producing companies to keep it busy, and all the necessary
paraphernalia of costumes and properties, would mean a million or so more. =
Say
a million and a half, all told. Why, it's a mere bagatelle!"
"Arthur!&quo=
t;
Severely, from Louise.
"I advise you
girls to economize in other ways and devote your resources to this business,
which might pay you--and might not," he continued, oblivious to stony
glares.
"Really, Mr.
Jones," said Beth, pouting, "we were not joking, but in real
earnest."
"Have I
questioned it, Miss De Graf?"
"Mr. Jones w=
as
merely trying to show you how--er--er--how impractical your idea was,"
explained Uncle John mildly.
"No; I am in
earnest, too," said the boy. "To prove it, I will agree to establ=
ish
a plant and make the pictures, if the young ladies will build the twenty
theatres to show them in."
Here was another
suggestion of a bewildering nature. Extravagant as the offer seemed, the boy
was very serious. He blushed a little as he observed Mr. Merrick eyeing him
earnestly, and continued in an embarrassed, halting way: "I--I assure =
you,
sir, that I am able to fulfill my part of the agreement. Also I would like =
to
do it. It would serve to interest me and keep me occupied in ways that are =
not wholly
selfish. My--my other business does not demand my personal attention, you
see."
To hear this weak,
sickly youth speak of investing a million dollars in a doubtful enterprise,=
in
spite of the fact that he lived on a far-away island and was a practical
stranger in America, set them all to speculating anew in regard to his hist=
ory
and condition in life. Seeing that the boy had himself made an opening for a
logical query, Uncle John asked:
"Do you mind
telling us what this other business is, to which you refer?"
A. Jones moved un=
easily
in his chair. Then he glanced quickly around the circle and found every eye
regarding him with eager curiosity. He blushed again, a deep red this time,=
but
an instant later straightened up and spoke in a tone of sudden resolve.
"Most people
dislike to speak of themselves," he said, "and I am no exception.=
But
you, who have kindly received me as a friend, after having generously saved=
me
from an untimely death, have surely the right to know something about me--i=
f,
indeed, the subject interests you."
"It is but
natural that we should feel an interest in you, Mr. Jones," replied Mr.
Merrick; "yet I assure you we have no desire to pry into your personal
affairs. You have already volunteered a general statement of your anteceden=
ts
and the object of your visit to America, and that, I assure you, will suffi=
ce
us. Pardon me for asking an impertinent question."
The boy seemed
perplexed, now.
"I did not
consider it impertinent, sir. I made a business proposal to your nieces,&qu=
ot;
he said, "and before they could accept such a proposal they would be
entitled to know something of my financial standing."
For a green,
inexperienced youth, he spoke with rare acumen, thought Mr. Merrick; but the
old gentleman had now determined to shield the boy from a forced declaratio=
n of
his finances, so he said:
"My nieces c=
an
hardly afford to accept your proposition. They are really able to build one=
or
two theatres without inconveniencing themselves, but twenty would be beyond
their means. You, of course, understand they were not seeking an investment,
but trying, with all their hearts, to benefit the children. I thoroughly
approve their original idea, but if it requires twenty picture theatres to
render it practical, they will abandon the notion at once."
Jones nodded
absently, his eyes half closed in thought. After a brief pause he replied: =
"I hate to s=
ee
this idea abandoned at the very moment of its birth. It's a good idea, and =
in
no way impractical, in my opinion. So permit me to make another proposition=
. I
will build the twenty theatres myself, and furnish the films for them, prov=
ided
the young ladies will agree to assume the entire management of them when th=
ey
are completed."
Dead silence foll=
owed
this speech. The girls did some rapid-fire mental calculations and realized
that this young man was proposing to invest something like fourteen hundred
thousand dollars, in order that they might carry out their philanthropic
conception. Why should he do this, even if he could afford it?
Both Mr. Merrick =
and
Arthur Weldon were staring stolidly at the floor. Their attitudes expressed,
for the first time, doubt--if not positive unbelief. As men of considerable
financial experience, they regarded the young islander's proposition as an
impossible one.
Jones noted this
blank reception of his offer and glanced appealingly at Patsy. It was an
uncomfortable moment for the girl and to avoid meeting his eyes she looked
away, across the lobby. A few paces distant stood a man who leaned against a
table and held a newspaper before his face. Patsy knew, however, that he was
not reading. A pair of dark, glistening eyes peered over the top of the pap=
er
and were steadfastly fixed upon the unconscious features of young Jones.
Something in the attitude of the stranger, whom she had never seen before, something in the rigid pose, the intent gaze--indicating both alertness and repression--rive= ted the girl's attention at once and gave her a distinct shock of uneasiness. <= o:p>
"I wish,&quo=
t;
said the boy, in his quiet, firm way, yet with much deference in his manner=
and
tone, "that you young ladies would consider my offer seriously, and ta=
ke
proper time to reach a decision. I am absolutely in earnest. I want to join=
you
in your attempt to give pleasure to children, and I am willing and--and
able--to furnish the funds required. Without your cooperation, however, I c=
ould
do nothing, and my health is such that I wish to leave the management of the
theatres entirely in your hands, as well as all the details of their
construction."
"We will
consider it, of course, Mr. Jones," answered Beth gravely. "We ar=
e a
little startled just now, as you see; but when we grow accustomed to the
immensity of the scheme--our baby, which you have transformed into a giant-=
-we
shall be able to consider it calmly and critically, and decide if we are
competent to undertake the management of so many theatres."
"Thank you.
Then, I think, I will excuse myself for this evening and return to my room.=
I'm
improving famously, under Dr. Doyle's instructions, but am not yet a rugged
example of health."
Patsy took his ha=
nd
at parting, as did the others, but her attention was divided between Ajo and
the strange man who had never for a moment ceased watching him. Not once did
the dark eyes waver, but followed each motion of the boy as he sauntered to=
the
desk, got his key from the clerk, and then proceeded to his room, turning up
one of the corridors on the main floor.
The stranger now =
laid
his newspaper on the table and disclosed his entire face for the first time=
. A
middle-aged man, he seemed to be, with iron-gray hair and a smoothly shaven,
rather handsome face. From his dress he appeared to be a prosperous business
man and it was evident that he was a guest of the hotel, for he wandered
through the lobby--in which many other guests were grouped, some chatting a=
nd others
playing "bridge"--and presently disappeared down the corridor tra=
versed
by young Jones.
Patsy drew a deep
breath, but said nothing to the others, who, when relieved of the boy's
presence, began to discuss volubly his singular proposal.
"The fellow =
is
crazy," commented Arthur. "Twenty picture theatres, with a film
factory to supply them, is a big order even for a multi-millionaire--and I
can't imagine this boy coming under that head."
"He seemed in
earnest," said Maud, musingly. "What do you think, Aunt Jane?&quo=
t;
"I am greatly
perplexed," admitted Mrs. Montrose. "Had I not known of the conqu=
est
of Goldstein by this boy, who issued orders which the manager of the
Continental meekly obeyed, I would have laughed at his proposition. As it i=
s,
I'm afraid to state that he won't carry out his plan to the letter of the
agreement."
"Would it no=
t be
a rash investment, ma'am?" inquired Uncle John.
"Frankly, I =
do
not know. While all the film makers evade any attempt to discover how
prosperous--financially--they are, we know that without exception they have
grown very wealthy. I am wondering if this young Jones is not one of the ow=
ners
of the Continental--a large stockholder, perhaps. If so, that not only acco=
unts
for his influence with Goldstein, but it proves him able to finance this
remarkable enterprise. He doubtless knows what he is undertaking, for his
figures, while not accurate, were logical."
"Of
course!" cried Patsy. "That explains everything."
"Still,"
said Uncle John cautiously, "this is merely surmise on our part, and
before accepting it we must reconcile it with the incongruities in the case=
. It
is possible that the elder Jones owned an interest in the Continental and
bequeathed it to his son. But is it probable? Remember, he was an islander,=
and
a recluse."
"More
likely," said Beth, "Ajo's father left him a great fortune, which=
the
boy invested in the Continental stock."
"I have been
told," remarked Aunt Jane thoughtfully, "that Continental stock
cannot be bought at any price. It pays such enormous dividends that no owner
will dispose of it."
"The whole t=
hing
is perplexing in the extreme," declared Arthur. "The boy tells a
story that at first seems frank and straightforward, yet his statements do =
not
dovetail, so to speak."
"I think he =
is holding
something back," said Beth; "something that would explain all the
discrepancies in his story. You were wrong, Uncle John, not to let him speak
when he offered to tell you all."
"There was
something in his manner that made me revolt from forcing his confidence,&qu=
ot;
was the reply.
"There was
something in his manner that made me think he was about to concoct a story =
that
would satisfy our curiosity," said Louise with a shrug.
Uncle John looked
around the circle of faces.
"You are not
questioning the young fellow's sincerity, I hope?" said he.
"I don't, fo=
r a
single second!" asserted Patsy, stoutly. "He may have a queer
history, and he may not have told us all of it, but Ajo is honest. I'll vou=
ch
for him!"
"So will I, =
my
dear," said Uncle John.
"That is more
than I can do, just at present," Arthur frankly stated. "My opini=
on
is that his preposterous offer is mere bluff. If you accepted it, you would
find him unable to do his part."
"Then what is
his object?" asked Maud.
"I can't fig=
ure
it out, as yet. He might pose as a millionaire and a generous friend and
philanthropist for some time, before the truth was discovered, and during t=
hat
time he could carry out any secret plans he had in mind. The boy is more sh=
rewd
than he appears to be. We, by chance saved his life, and at once he attached
himself to us like a barnacle, and we can't shake him off."
"We don't wa=
nt
to," said Patsy.
"My explanat=
ion
is that he has fallen in love with one of us girls," suggested Flo, wi=
th a
mischievous glance at her sister. "I wonder if it's me?"
"It is more
likely," said Louise, "that he has discovered Uncle John to be a
very--prosperous--man."
"Nonsense, my
dear!" exclaimed that gentleman, evidently irritated by the insinuatio=
n.
"Don't pick the boy to pieces. Give him a chance. So far he has asked
nothing from us, but offers everything. He's a grateful fellow and is anxio=
us
to help you girls carry out your ambitious plans. That is how I read him, a=
nd I
think it is absurd to prejudge him in the way you are doing."
The party broke u=
p,
the Stantons and Weldons going to their rooms. Beth also rose.
"Are you com=
ing
to bed, Patsy?" she inquired.
"Not just
now," her cousin replied. "Between us, we've rubbed Uncle John's =
fur
the wrong way and he won't get composed until he has smoked his good-night
cigar. I'll sit with him in this corner and keep him company."
So the little man=
and
his favorite niece were left together, and he did not seem in the least ruf=
fled
as he lit his cigar and settled down in a big chair, with Patsy beside him,=
to
enjoy it.
Perhaps the cigar=
was
half gone when Patsy gave a sudden start and squeezed Uncle John's hand, wh=
ich
she had been holding in both her own.
"What is it,=
my
dear?"
"The man I t=
old
you of. There he is, just across the lobby. The man with the gray clothes a=
nd
gray hair."
"Oh, yes; the
one lighting a cigar."
"Precisely.&=
quot;
Uncle John gazed across the lobby reflectively. The stranger's eyes roved carelessly around = the big room and then he moved with deliberate steps toward their corner. He pa= ssed several vacant chairs and settees on his way and finally paused before a lounging-chair not six feet distant from the one occupied by Mr. Merrick. <= o:p>
"Pardon me; =
is
this seat engaged, sir?" he asked.
"No," r=
eplied
Uncle John, not very graciously, for it was a deliberate intrusion.
The stranger sat =
down
and for a time smoked his cigar in silence. He was so near them that Patsy
forbore any conversation, knowing he would overhear it.
Suddenly the man
turned squarely in their direction and addressed them.
"I hope you =
will
pardon me, Mr. Merrick, if I venture to ask a question," said he.
"Well,
sir?"
"I saw you
talking with Mr. Jones this evening--A. Jones, you know, who says he came f=
rom
Sangoa."
"Didn't
he?" demanded the old gentleman.
The stranger smil=
ed.
"Perhaps; on=
ce
on a time; allowing such a place exists. But his last journey was here from
Austria."
"Indeed!&quo=
t;
Mr. Merrick and P=
atsy
were both staring at the man incredulously.
"I am quite =
sure
of that statement, sir; but I cannot prove it, as yet."
"Ah! I thoug=
ht
not."
Patsy had just to=
ld
her uncle how she had detected this man stealthily watching Jones, and how =
he
had followed the boy when he retired to his room. The present interview had,
they both knew, something to do with this singular action. Therefore Mr.
Merrick restrained his indignation at the stranger's pointed questioning. He
realized quite well that the man had come to their corner determined to
catechise them and gain what information he could. Patsy realized this, too.
So, being forewarned, they hoped to learn his object without granting him t=
he
satisfaction of "pumping" them.
"I suppose y=
ou
are friends of this Mr. A. Jones," was his next remark.
"We are
acquaintances," said Mr. Merrick.
"Has he ever
mentioned his adventures in Austria to you?"
"Are you a
friend of Mr. Jones?" demanded uncle John.
"I am not ev=
en
an acquaintance," said the man, smiling. "But I am interested in =
him,
through a friend of mine who met him abroad. Permit me to introduce myself,
sir."
He handed them a =
card
which read:
"ISAD=
ORE LE
DRIEUX Importer of Pearls and Precious Stones =
36
Maiden Lane, =
New
York City."
"I have
connections abroad, in nearly all countries," continued the man, "=
;and
it is through some of them that I have knowledge of this young fellow who h=
as
taken the name of A. Jones. In fact, I have a portrait of the lad, taken in
Paris, which I will show you."
He searched in his
pocket and produced an envelope from which he carefully removed a photograp=
h,
which he handed to Uncle John. Patsy examined it, too, with a start of
surprise. The thin features, the large serious eyes, even the closely set l=
ips
were indeed those of A. Jones. But in the picture he wore a small mustache.=
"It can't be=
our
A. Jones," murmured Patsy. "This one is older."
"That is on
account of the mustache," remarked Le Drieux, who was closely watching
their faces. "This portrait was taken more than a year ago."
"Oh; but he =
was
in Sangoa then," protested Patsy, who was really bewildered by the
striking resemblance.
The stranger smil=
ed
indulgently.
"As a matter=
of
fact, there is no Sangoa." said he; "so we may doubt the young ma=
n's
assertion that he was ever there."
"Why are you
interested in him?" inquired Mr. Merrick.
"A natural
question," said Le Drieux, after a moment of hesitation. "I know =
you
well by reputation, Mr. Merrick, and believe I am justified in speaking fra=
nkly
to you and your niece, provided you regard my statements as strictly
confidential. A year ago I received notice from my friend in Austria that t=
he
young man had gone to America and he was anxious I should meet him. At the =
time
I was too busy with my own affairs to look him up, but I recently came to
California for a rest, and noticed the strong resemblance between the boy, =
A.
Jones, and the portrait sent me. So I hunted up this picture and compared t=
he
two. In my judgment they are one and the same. What do you think, sir?"=
;
"I believe t=
here
is a resemblance," answered Uncle John, turning the card over. "B=
ut
here is a name on the back of the photograph: 'Jack Andrews.'"
"Yes; this is
Jack Andrews," said Le Drieux, nodding. "Have you ever heard the =
name
before?"
"Never."=
;
"Well, Andre=
ws
is noted throughout Europe, and it is but natural he should desire to escape
his notoriety by assuming another name out here. Do you note the similarity=
of
the initials? 'J.A.' stand for Jack Andrews. Reverse them and 'A.J.' stand =
for
A. Jones. By the way, what does he claim the 'A' means? Is it Andrew?"=
"It means
nothing at all," said Patsy. "He told us so."
"I see. You caught him unprepared. That isn't like Jack. He is always on guard." <= o:p>
Both Patsy and Un=
cle
John were by this time sorely perplexed. They had a feeling common to both =
of
them, that the subject of this portrait and A. Jones were two separate and
distinct persons; yet the resemblance could not be denied, if they were ind=
eed
the same, young Jones had deliberately lied to them, and recalling his vari=
ous
statements and the manner in which they had been made, they promptly acquit=
ted
the boy of the charge of falsehood.
"For what was
Jack Andrews noted throughout Europe?" inquired Mr. Merrick, after
silently considering these things.
"Well, he wa=
s a
highflier, for one thing." answered Le Drieux. "He was known as a
thorough 'sport' and, I am told, a clever gambler. He had a faculty of maki=
ng
friends, even among the nobility. The gilded youth of London, Paris and Vie=
nna
cultivated his acquaintance, and through them he managed to get into very g=
ood
society. He was a guest at the splendid villa of Countess Ahmberg, near Vie=
nna,
when her magnificent collection of pearls disappeared. You remember that lo=
ss,
and the excitement it caused, do you not?"
"No, sir; I =
have
never before heard of the Countess of Ahmberg or her pearls."
"Well, the s=
tory
filled the newspapers for a couple of weeks. The collection embraced the ra=
rest
and most valuable pearls known to exist."
"And you acc=
use
this man, Andrews, of stealing them?" asked Uncle John, tapping with h=
is
finger the portrait he still held.
"By no means,
sir; by no means!" cried Le Drieux hastily. "In fact, he was one =
of
the few guests at the villa to whom no suspicion attached. From the moment =
the
casket of pearls was last seen by the countess until their loss was discove=
red,
every moment of Andrews' time was accounted for. His alibi was perfect and =
he
was quite prominent in the unsuccessful quest of the thief."
"The pearls =
were
not recovered, then?"
"No. The who=
le
affair is still a mystery. My friend in Vienna, a pearl merchant like mysel=
f,
assisted Andrews in his endeavor to discover the thief and, being much
impressed by the young man's personality, sent me this photograph, asking m=
e to
meet him, as I have told you, when he reached America."
"Is his home=
in this
country?"
"New York kn=
ows
him, but knows nothing of his family or his history. He is popular there,
spending money freely and bearing the reputation of an all-around good fell=
ow.
On his arrival there, a year ago, he led a gay life for a few days and then
suddenly disappeared. No one knew what had become of him. When I found him
here, under the name of A. Jones, the disappearance was solved."
"I think,&qu=
ot;
said Uncle John, "you are laboring under a serious, if somewhat natura=
l,
mistake. The subject of this picture is like A. Jones, indeed, but he is ol=
der
and his expression more--more--"
"Blase and
sophisticated," said Patsy.
"Thank you, =
my
dear; I am no dictionary, and if those are real words they may convey my
meaning. I feel quite sure, Mr. Le Drieux, that the story of Andrews can no=
t be
the story of young Jones."
Le Drieux took the
picture and replaced it in his pocket.
"To err is
human," said he, "and I will admit the possibility of my being mi=
staken
in my man. But you will admit the resemblance?"
"Yes. They m=
ight
be brothers. But young Jones has said he has no brothers, and I believe
him."
Le Drieux sat in
silence for a few minutes. Then he said:
"I appealed =
to
you, Mr. Merrick, because I was not thoroughly satisfied, in my own mind, o=
f my
conclusions. You have added to my doubts, I must confess, yet I cannot aban=
don
the idea that the two men are one and the same. As my suspicion is only sha=
red
by you and your niece, in confidence, I shall devote myself for a few days =
to
studying young Jones and observing his actions. In that way I may get a clue
that will set all doubt at rest."
"We will
introduce you to him," said Patsy. "and then you may question him=
as
much as you like."
"Oh, no; I
prefer not to make his acquaintance until I am quite sure," was the re=
ply.
"If he is not Jack Andrews he would be likely to resent the insinuation
that he is here trading under a false name. Good night, Mr. Merrick. Good
night, Miss Doyle. I thank you for your courteous consideration."
He had risen, and=
now
bowed and walked away.
"Well,"
said Patsy. "what was he after? And did he learn anything from us?&quo=
t;
"He did most=
of
the talking himself," replied Uncle John, looking after Le Drieux with=
a
puzzled expression. "Of course he is not a jewel merchant."
"No," s=
aid
Patsy, "he's a detective, and I'll bet a toothpick to a match that he'=
s on
the wrong scent."
"He surely i=
s.
Unfortunately, we cannot warn Ajo against him."
"It isn't
necessary, Uncle. Why, the whole thing is absurd. Our boy is not a gambler =
or
roysterer, nor do I think he has ever been in Europe. Mr. Le Drieux will ha=
ve
to guess again!"
The next morning
Patsy, Beth and Louise met in earnest conference over the important proposi=
tion
made them by young Jones, and although Uncle John and Arthur Weldon were bo=
th
present the men took no part in the discussion.
"Some doubt =
has
been expressed," said Beth judicially, "that Ajo is really able to
finance this big venture. But he says he is, and that he will carry it thro=
ugh
to the end, so I propose we let him do it."
"Why not?&qu=
ot;
asked Louise. "If he succeeds, it will be glorious. If he fails, we wi=
ll
suffer in no way except through disappointment."
"Well, shall=
we
accept this offer, girls?"
"First," said Louise, "let us consider what we will have to do, on our part, wh= en the twenty theatres are built and the film factory is in operation." <= o:p>
"We are to be
the general managers," returned Patsy. "We must select the subjec=
ts,
or plots, for the pictures, and order them made under our direction. Then we
must see that all of our theatres present them in a proper manner, and we m=
ust
invite children to come and see the shows. I guess that's all."
"That will be
enough to keep us busy, I'm sure," said Beth. "But we will gladly
undertake it, and I am sure we shall prove good managers, as soon as we get
acquainted with the details of the business."
"It will giv=
e us
the sort of employment we like," Patsy assured them. "Our first d=
uty
will be to plan these theatres for children, and make them as cosy and
comfortable as possible, regardless of expense. Ajo will pay the bills, and
when all the buildings are ready we will set to work in earnest."
So, when A. Jones
appeared he was told that the girls would gladly accept his proposition. The
young man seemed greatly pleased by this verdict. He appeared to be much be=
tter
and stronger to-day and he entered eagerly into a discussion of the plans in
detail. Together they made a list of a string of twenty theatres, to be bui=
lt
in towns reaching from Santa Barbara on the north to San Diego in the south.
The film factory was to be located in the San Fernando Valley, just north of
Hollywood.
This consumed the
entire forenoon, and after lunch they met a prominent real estate man whom
Jones had summoned to the hotel. This gentleman was given a copy of the lis=
t of
locations and instructed to purchase in each town the best site that could =
be
secured for a motion picture theatre. This big order made the real estate m=
an
open his eyes in surprise.
"Do you wish=
me
to secure options, or to purchase the land outright?" he asked.
"Be sure of =
your
locations and then close the deals at once," replied Jones. "We do
not wish to waste time in useless dickering, and a location in the heart of
each town, perhaps on the main street, is more important than the price. You
will, of course, protect me from robbery to the best of your ability; but b=
uy,
even if the price is exorbitant. I will this afternoon place a hundred thou=
sand
dollars to your credit in the bank, with which to make advance payments, and
when you notify me how much more is required I will forward my checks at
once."
"That is
satisfactory, sir. I will do the best I can to guard your interests," =
said
the man.
When he had gone =
the
girls accompanied Ajo in a motorcar to Los Angeles, to consult an architect.
They visited several offices before the boy, who seemed to estimate men at a
glance, found one that satisfied him. The girls explained with care to the
architect their idea of a luxurious picture theatre for children, and when =
he
had grasped their conception, which he did with enthusiasm, he suggested
several improvements on their immature plans and promised to have complete
drawings ready to submit to them in a few days.
From the architec=
t's
office they drove to the German-American Bank, where Ajo gave his check for=
a
hundred thousand dollars, to be placed to the credit of Mr. Wilcox, the real
estate agent. The deference shown him by the cashier seemed to indicate that
this big check was not the extent of A. Jones' credit there, by any means. =
As they drove bac=
k to
Hollywood, Patsy could not help eyeing this youthful capitalist with wonder.
During this day of exciting business deals the boy had behaved admirably, a=
nd
there was no longer a shadow of doubt in the minds of any of Uncle John's
nieces that he was both able and anxious to carry out his part of the
agreement.
Patsy almost gigg=
led
outright as she thought of Le Drieux and his ridiculous suspicions. One wou=
ld
have to steal a good many pearls in order to acquire a fortune to match tha=
t of
the Sangoan.
He was speaking of
Sangoa now, in answer to a question of Beth's.
"Yes,
indeed," said he, "Sangoa is very beautiful, and the climate is e=
ven
more mild than that of your Southern California. The north coast is a high
bluff, on which is a splendid forest of rosewood and mahogany. My father wo=
uld
never allow any of these magnificent trees to be cut, except a few that were
used in building our house."
"But how do =
your
people live? What is the principal industry of your islanders?" asked
Beth.
"My people
are--fishermen," he said, and then the automobile drew up before the h=
otel
entrance and the conversation ended.
It was on the
following afternoon, as they all met in the hotel lobby after lunch, that a
messenger handed young Jones a neat parcel, for which a receipt was demande=
d.
Ajo held the parcel in his hand a while, listening to the chatter of the gi=
rls,
who were earnestly discussing plans for the new picture enterprise. Then ve=
ry
quietly and unobtrusively he unwrapped the package and laid upon the table
beside him several small boxes bearing the name of a prominent jeweler.
"I hope,&quo=
t;
said he, taking advantage of a pause caused by the girls observing this act=
ion,
and growing visibly confused by their involuntary stares of curiosity;
"I--I hope that you, my new friends, will pardon a liberty I have take=
n. I
wanted to--to present those who were instrumental in saving my life with--w=
ith
a--a slight token of my gratitude--a sort of--of--memento of a brave and
generous act that gave me back the life I had carelessly jeopardized. No,&q=
uot;
as he saw surprise and protest written on their faces, "don't refuse me
this pleasure, I implore you! The little--eh--eh--mementos are from my own
Island of Sangoa, with the necessary mountings by a Los Angeles jeweler,
and--please accept them!"
As he spoke he ha=
nded
to each of the girls a box, afterward giving one to Uncle John and another =
to
Arthur. There remained upon the table three others. He penciled a name upon=
the
bottom of each and then handed them to Patsy, saying:
"Will you ki=
ndly
present these, with my compliments, to the Misses Stanton, and to their aun=
t,
when they return this evening? Thank you!"
And then, before =
they
could recover from their astonishment, he turned abruptly and fled to his r=
oom.
The girls stared =
at
one another a moment and then began laughing. Arthur seemed crestfallen, wh=
ile
Uncle John handled his small box as gingerly as if he suspected it containe=
d an
explosive.
"How
ridiculous!" cried Patsy, her blue eyes dancing. "And did you not=
ice
how scared poor Ajo was, and how he skipped as fearfully as though he had
committed some crime? But I'm sure the poor boy meant well. Let's open our
boxes, girls, and see what foolishness Ajo has been up to."
Slipping off the =
cover
of her box, Beth uttered a low cry of amazement and admiration. Then she he=
ld
up a dainty lavalliere, with a pendant containing a superb pearl. Louise had
the mate to this, but the one Patsy found had a pearl of immense size, its
color being an exquisite shade of pink, such as is rarely seen. Arthur
displayed a ring set with a splendid white pearl, while Uncle John's box
contained a stick pin set with a huge black pearl of remarkable luster. Ind=
eed,
they saw at a glance that the size and beauty of all these pearls were very
uncommon, and while the others expressed their enthusiastic delight, the fa=
ces
of Mr. Merrick and Patsy Doyle were solemn and perplexed. They stared at the
pearls with feelings of dismay, rather than joy, and chancing to meet one a=
nother's
eyes they quickly dropped their gaze to avoid exchanging the ugly suspicion
that had forced itself upon their minds.
With a sudden tho=
ught
Patsy raised her head to cast a searching glance around the lobby, for alth=
ough
their party was seated in an alcove they were visible to all in the big roo=
m of
which it formed a part. Yes, Mr. Isidore Le Drieux was standing near them, =
as
she had feared, and the slight sneer upon his lips proved that he had obser=
ved
the transfer of the pearls.
So the girl promp=
tly
clasped her lavalliere around her neck and openly displayed it, as a proud
defiance, if not a direct challenge, to that detestable sneer.
Arthur, admiring =
his
ring in spite of his chagrin at receiving such a gift from a comparative
stranger, placed the token on his finger.
"It is a bea=
uty,
indeed," said he, "but I don't think we ought to accept such valu=
able
gifts from this boy."
"I do not see
why," returned his wife Louise. "I think these pretty tributes for
saving Mr. Jones' life are very appropriate. Of course neither Beth nor I h=
ad
anything to do with that affair, but we are included in the distribution
because it would be more embarrassing to leave us out of it."
"And the pea=
rls
came from Sangoa," added Beth, "so all these precious gifts have =
cost
Ajo nothing, except for their settings."
"If Sangoa c=
an
furnish many such pearls as these," remarked Arthur, reflectively,
"the island ought to be famous, instead of unknown. Their size and bea=
uty
render the gems priceless."
"Well,"
said Patsy soberly, "we know now where A. Jones got his money, which i=
s so
plentiful that he can build any number of film factories and picture theatr=
es.
Sangoa must have wonderful pearl fisheries--don't you remember, girls, that=
he
told us his people were fishermen?--for each of these specimens is worth a
small fortune. Mine, especially, is the largest and finest pearl I have ever
seen."
"I beg your
pardon!" sternly exclaimed Uncle John, as he whirled swiftly around.
"Can I do anything for you, sir?"
For Mr. Le Drieux=
had
stealthily advanced to the alcove and was glaring at the display of pearls =
and
making notes in a small book.
He bowed, without
apparent resentment, as he answered Mr. Merrick: "Thank you, sir; you =
have
already served me admirably. Pardon my intrusion."
Then he closed the
book, slipped it into his pocket and with another low bow walked away.
"What rank
impertinence!" cried Arthur, staring after him. "Some newspaper
reporter, I suppose. Do you know him, Uncle John?"
"He forced an
introduction, a few evenings ago. It is a pearl merchant from New York, nam=
ed
Le Drieux, so I suppose his curiosity is but natural."
"Shall we ke=
ep
our pearls, Uncle?" asked Beth.
"I shall keep
mine," replied the little man, who never wore any ornament of jewelry.
"It was generous and thoughtful in young Jones to present these things=
and
we ought not offend him by refusing his 'mementos,' as he calls them."=
Perhaps all the
nieces were relieved to hear this verdict, for already they loved their
beautiful gifts. That evening the Stanton girls and their Aunt Jane received
their parcels, being fully as much surprised as the others had been, and th=
eir
boxes also contained pearls. Flo and Maud had lavallieres, the latter recei=
ving
one as large and beautiful as that of Patsy Doyle, while Mrs. Montrose foun=
d a
brooch set with numerous smaller pearls.
Patsy urged them =
all
to wear the ornaments to dinner that evening, which they did, and although
Jones was not there to observe the effect of the splendid pearls, Mr. Le Dr=
ieux
was at his place in the dining room and made more notes in his little book.=
That was exactly =
what
Patsy wanted. "I can't stand the suspense of this thing," she
whispered to Uncle John, "and if that man wants any information about
these pearls I propose we give it to him. In that way he will soon discover=
he
is wrong in suspecting the identity of Jack Andrews and A. Jones."
Mr. Merrick nodded
absently and went to his corner for a smoke. Arthur soon after joined him,
while Aunt Jane took her bevy of girls to another part of the loge.
"Le Drieux w=
ill
be here presently," said Uncle John to young Weldon.
"Oh, the fel=
low
with the book. Why, sir?"
"He's a
detective, I think. Anyhow, he is shadowing Jones, whom he suspects is a
thief."
He then told Arth=
ur
frankly of his former conversation with Le Drieux, and of the puzzling
photograph.
"It really
resembles the boy," he admitted, with a frown of perplexity, "yet=
at
the same time I realized the whole thing was absurd. Neither Patsy nor I can
believe that Jones is the man who robbed an Austrian countess. It's
preposterous! And let me say right now, Arthur, that I'm going to stand by =
this
young fellow, with all my influence, in case those hounds try to make him
trouble."
Arthur did not re=
ply
at once. He puffed his cigar silently while he revolved the startling
accusation in his mind.
"Both you and
Patsy are staunch friends," he observed, after a while, "and I ha=
ve
noticed that your intuition as regards character is seldom at fault. But I
advise you, in this instance, not to be hasty, for--"
"I know; you=
are
going to refer to those pearls."
"Naturally. =
If I
don't, Le Drieux will, as you have yourself prophesied. Pearls--especially =
such
pearls as these--are rare and easy to recognize. The world does not contain
many black-pearls, for instance, such as that you are wearing. An expert--a=
man
with a photograph that strongly resembles young Jones--is tracing some stol=
en
pearls of great value--a collection, I think you said. We find Jones, a man
seemingly unknown here, giving away a number of wonderful pearls that are
worthy a place in any collection. Admit it is curious, Uncle John. It may be
all a coincidence, of course; but how do you account for it, sir?"
"Jones has an
island in the South Seas, a locality where most of the world's famous pearls
have been found."
"Sangoa?&quo=
t;
"Yes." =
"It is not on
any map. This man, Le Drieux, positively stated that there is no such islan=
d,
did he not?"
Uncle John rubbed=
his
chin, a gesture that showed he was disturbed.
"He was not
positive. He said he thought there was no such island."
"Well,
sir?"
"If Jones co=
uld
lie about his island, he would be capable of the theft of those pearls,&quo=
t;
admitted Mr. Merrick reluctantly.
"That is
conclusive, sir."
"But he isn't
capable of the theft. Le Drieux states that Jack Andrews is a society swell=
, an
all-around confidence man, and a gambler. Jones is a diffident and retiring,
but a very manly young fellow, who loves quiet and seems to have no bad hab=
its.
You can't connect the two in any possible way."
Again Arthur took
time to consider.
"I have no
desire to suspect Jones unjustly," he said. "In fact, I have been
inclined to like the fellow. And yet--his quaint stories and his foolish
expenditures have made me suspicious from the first. You have scarcely done
justice to his character in your description, sir. To us he appears diffide=
nt,
retiring, and rather weak, in a way, while in his intercourse with Goldstei=
n he
shows a mailed fist. He can be hard as nails, on occasion, as we know, and =
at
times he displays a surprising knowledge of the world and its ways--for one=
who
has been brought up on an out-of-the-way island. What do we know about him,
anyway? He tells a tale no one can disprove, for the South Seas are full of
small islands, some of which are probably unrecorded on the charts. All this
might possibly be explained by remembering that a man like Jack Andrews is =
undoubtedly
a clever actor."
"Exactly!&qu=
ot;
said a jubilant voice behind them, and Mr. Isidore Le Drieux stepped forward
and calmly drew up a chair, in which he seated himself. "You will pard=
on
me, gentlemen, for eavesdropping, but I was curious to know what you though=
t of
this remarkable young man who calls himself 'A. Jones.'"
Arthur faced the
intruder with a frown. He objected to being startled in this manner. "=
You
are a detective?" he asked.
"Oh, scarcely
that, sir," Le Drieux replied in a deprecating way. "My printed c=
ard
indicates that I am a merchant, but in truth I am a special agent, employed=
by
the largest pearl and gem dealers in the world, a firm with branches in eve=
ry
large European and American city. My name is Le Drieux, sir, at your
service," and with a flourish he presented his card.
The young rancher
preferred to study the man's face.
"I am a sort=
of
messenger," he continued, placidly. "When valuable consignments of
jewels are to be delivered, I am the carrier instead of the express compani=
es.
The method is safer. In twenty-six years of this work I have never lost a
single jewel."
"One firm
employs you exclusively, then?"
"One firm. B=
ut
it has many branches."
"It is a
trust?"
"Oh, no; we =
have
many competitors; but none very important. Our closest rival, for instance,=
has
headquarters on this very coast--in San Francisco--but spreads, as we do, o=
ver
the civilized world. Yet Jephson's--that's the firm--do not claim to equal =
our
business. They deal mostly in pearls."
"Pearls,
eh?" said Arthur, musingly. "Then it was your firm that lost the =
valuable
collection of pearls you mentioned to Mr. Merrick?"
"No. They we=
re
the property of Countess Ahmberg, of Vienna. But we had sold many of the fi=
nest
specimens to the countess and have records of their weight, size, shape and
color. The one you are now wearing, sir," pointing to Uncle John's sca=
rf
pin, "is one of the best black pearls ever discovered. It was found at
Tremloe in 1883 and was originally purchased by our firm. In 1887 I took it=
to
Tiffany, who sold it to Prince Godesky, of Warsaw. I carried it to him, with
other valuable purchases, and after his death it was again resold to our fi=
rm.
It was in October, 1904, that I again became the bearer of the pearl,
delivering it safely to Countess Ahmberg at her villa. It was stolen from h=
er,
together with 188 other rare pearls, valued at a half million dollars, a li=
ttle
over a year ago."
"This pearl,
sir," said Uncle John stiffly, "is not the one you refer to. It w=
as
found on the shores of the island of Sangoa, and you have never seen it
before."
Le Drieux smiled
sweetly as he brushed the ashes from his cigar.
"I am seldom
mistaken in a pearl, especially one that I have handled," said he.
"Moreover, a good pearl becomes historic, and it is my business to know
the history of each and every one in existence."
"Even those
owned by Jephson's?" asked Arthur.
"Yes; unless
they were acquired lately. I have spoken in this manner in order that you m=
ay
understand the statements I am about to make, and I beg you to listen
carefully: Three daring pearl robberies have taken place within the past two
years. The first was a collection scarcely inferior to that of the Countess
Ahmberg. A bank messenger was carrying it through the streets of London one
evening, to be delivered to Lady Grandison, when he was stabbed to the heart
and the gems stolen. Singularly enough, Jack Andrews was passing by and fou=
nd
the dying messenger. He called for the police, but when they arrived the
messenger had expired. The fate of the pearls has always remained a mystery=
, although
a large reward has been offered for their recovery."
"Oh; a
reward."
"Naturally, =
sir.
Four months later Princess Lemoine lost her wonderful pearl necklace while
sitting in a box at the Grand Opera in Paris. This was one of the cleverest
thefts that ever baffled the police, for the necklace was never recovered. =
We
know, however, that Jack Andrews occupied the box next to that of the princ=
ess.
A coincidence--perhaps. We now come to the robbery of the Countess Ahmberg,=
the
third on the list. Jack Andrews was a guest at her house, as I have explain=
ed
to you. No blame has ever attached to this youthful adventurer, yet my firm,
always interested in the pearls they have sold, advised me to keep an eye on
him when he returned to America. I did so.
"Now, Mr.
Merrick, I will add to the tale I told you the other night. Andrews behaved
very well for a few weeks after he landed at New York; then he disposed of
seven fine pearls and--disappeared. They were not notable pearls, especiall=
y,
but two of them I was able to trace to the necklace of Princess Lemoine. I
cabled my firm. They called attention to the various rewards offered and ur=
ged
me to follow Andrews. That was impossible; he had left no clue. But chance
favored me. Coming here to Los Angeles on business, I suddenly ran across my
quarry: Jack Andrews. He has changed a bit. The mustache is gone, he is in =
poor
health, and I am told he was nearly drowned in the ocean the other day. So =
at
first I was not sure of my man. I registered at this hotel and watched him =
carefully.
Sometimes I became positive he was Andrews; at other times I doubted. But w=
hen
he began distributing pearls to you, his new friends, all doubt vanished.
There, gentlemen, is my story in a nutshell. What do you think of it?"=
Both Mr. Merrick =
and
young Weldon had listened with rapt interest, but their interpretation of t=
he
tale, which amounted to a positive accusation of A. Jones, showed the
difference in the two men's natures.
"I think you=
are
on the wrong trail, sir," answered Mr. Merrick. "Doubtless you ha=
ve
been misled by a casual resemblance, coupled with the fact that Andrews is
suspected of stealing pearls and Jones is known to possess pearls--the pear=
ls
being of rare worth in both cases. Still, you are wrong. For instance, if y=
ou
have the weight and measurement of the Tremloe black pearl, you will find t=
hey
do not fit the pearl I am now wearing."
Le Drieux smiled
genially.
"It is
unnecessary to make the test, sir," he replied. "The pearl Andrew=
s gave
to Miss Doyle is as unmistakable as your own. But I am curious to hear your
opinion, Mr. Weldon."
"I have been
suspicious of young Jones from the first," said Arthur; "but I ha=
ve
been studying this boy's character, and he is positively incapable of the
crimes you accuse him of, such as robbery and murder. In other words, whate=
ver
Jones may be, he is not Andrews; or, if by chance he proves to be Andrews, =
then
Andrews is innocent of crime. All your theories are based upon a desire to
secure rewards, backed by a chain of circumstantial evidence."
"A chain,&qu=
ot;
said Le Drieux, grimly, "that will hold Jack Andrews fast in its coils,
clever though he is."
"Circumstant=
ial
evidence," retorted Mr. Merrick, "doesn't amount to shucks! It is
constantly getting good people into trouble and allowing rascals to escape.
Nothing but direct evidence will ever convince me that a man is guilty.&quo=
t;
Le Drieux shrugge=
d his
shoulders.
"The pearls =
are
evidence enough," said he.
"To be sure.
Evidence enough to free the poor boy of suspicion. You may be a better
messenger than you are a detective, Mr. Le Drieux, but that doesn't convinc=
e me
you are a judge of pearls."
The agent rose wi=
th a
frown of annoyance.
"I am going =
to
have Jack Andrews arrested in the morning," he remarked. "If you =
warn
him, in the meantime, I shall charge you with complicity."
Uncle John nearly
choked with anger, but he maintained his dignity.
"I have no
knowledge of your Jack Andrews," he replied, and turned his back.
Uncle John and Ar=
thur
decided not to mention to the girls this astounding charge of Isidore Le
Drieux, fearing the news would make them nervous and disturb their rest, so
when the men joined the merry party in the alcove they did not refer to the=
ir
late interview.
Afterward, howeve=
r,
when all but Arthur Weldon had gone to bed and he was sitting in Uncle John=
's
room, the two discussed the matter together with much seriousness.
"We ought to=
do
something, sir," said Arthur. "This Jones is a mere boy, and in p=
oor
health at that. He has no friends, so far as we know, other than ourselves.
Therefore it is our duty to see him through this trouble."
Mr. Merrick nodded
assent.
"We cannot
prevent the arrest," he replied, "for Le Drieux will not listen to
reason. If we aided Jones to run away he would soon be caught. Absurd as the
charge is, the youngster must face it and prove his innocence."
Arthur paced the
floor in a way that indicated he was disturbed by this verdict.
"He ought to
have no difficulty in proving he is not Jack Andrews," he remarked,
reflectively; "and yet--those pearls are difficult to explain. Their
similarity to the ones stolen in Europe fooled the expert, Le Drieux, and t=
hey
are likely to fool a judge or jury. I hope Jones has some means of proving =
that
he brought the pearls from Sangoa. That would settle the matter at once.&qu=
ot;
"As soon as =
he
is arrested we will get him a lawyer--the best in this country," said =
Mr.
Merrick. "More than that we cannot do, but a good lawyer will know the
proper method of freeing his client."
The next morning =
they
were up early, awaiting developments; but Le Drieux seemed in no hurry to m=
ove.
He had breakfast at about nine o'clock, read his newspaper for a half hour =
or
so, and then deliberately left the hotel. All of Mr. Merrick's party had
breakfasted before this and soon after Le Drieux had gone away young Jones
appeared in the lobby. He was just in time to see the Stanton girls drive a=
way
in their automobile, accompanied by their Aunt Jane.
"The motion
picture stars must be late to-day," said the boy, looking after them. =
"They are,&q=
uot;
answered Patsy, standing beside him at the window; "but Maud says this
happens to be one of their days of leisure. No picture is to be taken and t=
hey
have only to rehearse a new play. But it's a busy life, seems to me, and it
would really prove hard work if the girls didn't enjoy it so much."
"Yes," =
said
he, "it's a fascinating profession. I understand, and nothing can be
called work that is interesting. When we are obliged to do something that w=
e do
not like to do, it becomes 'work.' Otherwise, what is usually called 'work'=
is
mere play, for it furnishes its quota of amusement."
He was quite
unconscious of any impending misfortune and when Beth and Louise joined Pat=
sy
in thanking him for his pretty gifts of the pearls he flushed with pleasure.
Evidently their expressions of delight were very grateful to his ears.
Said Uncle John, =
in a
casual way: "Those are remarkably fine pearls, to have come from such =
an
island as Sangoa."
"But we find
much better ones there, I assure you," replied the boy. "I have m=
any
in my room of much greater value, but did not dare ask you to accept them as
gifts."
"Do many pea=
rls
come from Sangoa, then?" asked Arthur.
"That is our=
one
industry," answered the young man. "Many years ago my father
discovered the pearl fisheries. It was after he had purchased the island, b=
ut
he recognized the value of the pearls and brought a colony of people from
America to settle at Sangoa and devote their time to pearl fishing. Once or
twice every year we send a ship to market with a consignment of pearls to o=
ur
agent, and--to be quite frank with you--that is why I am now able to build =
the
picture theatres I have contracted for, as well as the film factory." =
"I see,"
said Uncle John. "But tell me this, please: Why is Sangoa so little kn=
own,
or rather, so quite unknown?"
"My
father," Jones returned, "loved quiet and seclusion. He was willi=
ng to
develop the pearl fisheries, but objected to the flock of adventurers sure =
to
descend upon his island if its wealth of pearls became generally known. His
colony he selected with great care and with few exceptions they are a sturd=
y,
wholesome lot, enjoying the peaceful life of Sangoa and thoroughly satisfied
with their condition there. It is only within the last two years that our
American agents knew where our pearls came from, yet they could not locate =
the
island if they tried. I do not feel the same desire my father did to keep t=
he
secret, although I would dislike to see Sangoa overrun with tourists or
traders."
He spoke so quiet=
ly
and at the same time so convincingly that both Arthur and Uncle John accept=
ed
his explanation unquestioningly. Nevertheless, in the embarrassing dilemma =
in
which Jones would presently be involved, the story would be sure to bear the
stamp of unreality to any uninterested hearer.
The girls had now
begun to chatter over the theatre plans, and their "financial backer&q=
uot;--as
Patsy Doyle called him--joined them with eager interest. Arthur sat at a
near-by desk writing a letter; Uncle John glanced over the morning paper; I=
nez,
the Mexican nurse, brought baby to Louise for a kiss before it went for a r=
ide
in its perambulator.
An hour had passed
when Le Drieux entered the lobby in company with a thin-faced, sharp-eyed m=
an
in plain clothes. They walked directly toward the group that was seated by =
the
open alcove window, and Arthur Weldon, observing them and knowing what was
about to happen, rose from the writing-desk and drew himself tensely togeth=
er
as he followed them. Uncle John lowered his paper, frowned at Le Drieux and
then turned his eyes upon the face of young Jones.
It was the
thin-featured man who advanced and lightly touched the boy's arm.
"Beg pardon,
sir," said he, in even, unemotional tones. "You are Mr. Andrews, I
believe--Mr. Jack Andrews?"
The youth turned =
his
head to look at his questioner.
"No, sir,&qu=
ot;
he answered with a smile. "A case of mistaken identity. My name is
Jones." Then, continuing his speech to Patsy Doyle, he said: "The=
re
is no need to consider the acoustic properties of our theatres, for the
architect--"
"Pardon me
again," interrupted the man, more sternly. "I am positive this is=
not
a case of mistaken identity. We have ample proof that Jack Andrews is parad=
ing
here, under the alias of 'A. Jones.'"
The boy regarded =
him
with a puzzled expression.
"What
insolence!" muttered Beth in an under-tone but audible enough to be di=
stinctly
heard.
The man flushed
slightly and glanced at Le Drieux, who nodded his head. Then he continued
firmly:
"In any even=
t,
sir, I have a warrant for your arrest, and I hope you will come with me qui=
etly
and so avoid a scene."
The boy grew pale=
and
then red. His eyes narrowed as he stared fixedly at the officer. But he did=
not
change his position, nor did he betray either fear or agitation. In a voice
quite unmoved he asked:
"On what cha=
rge
do you arrest me?"
"You are cha=
rged
with stealing a valuable collection of pearls from the Countess Ahmberg, at
Vienna, about a year ago."
"But I have
never been in Vienna."
"You will ha=
ve
an opportunity to prove that."
"And my name=
is
not Andrews."
"You must pr=
ove
that, also."
The boy thought f=
or a
moment. Then he asked:
"Who accuses
me?"
"This gentle= man; Mr. Le Drieux. He is an expert in pearls, knows intimately all those in the collection of the countess and has recognized several which you have recent= ly presented to your friends, as among those you brought from Austria." <= o:p>
Again Jones smile=
d.
"This is abs=
urd,
sir," he remarked.
The officer retur=
ned
the smile, but rather grimly.
"It is the u=
sual
protest, Mr. Andrews. I don't blame you for the denial, but the evidence
against you is very strong. Will you come? And quietly?"
"I am unable=
to
offer physical resistance," replied the young fellow, as he slowly rose
from his chair and displayed his thin figure. "Moreover," he adde=
d,
with a touch of humor, "I believe there's a fine for resisting an offi=
cer.
I suppose you have a legal warrant. May I be permitted to see it?"
The officer produ=
ced
the warrant. Jones perused it slowly and then handed it to Mr. Merrick, who
read it and passed it back to the officer.
"What shall I
do, sir?" asked the boy.
"Obey the
law," answered Uncle John. "This officer is only the law's instru=
ment
and it is useless to argue with him. But I will go with you to the police
station and furnish bail."
Le Drieux shook h=
is
head.
"Quite
impossible, Mr. Merrick," he said. "This is not a bailable offens=
e."
"Are you
sure?"
"I am positi=
ve.
This is an extradition case, of international importance. Andrews, after an
examination, will be taken to New York and from there to Vienna, where his
crime was committed."
"But he has
committed no crime!"
Le Drieux shrugged
his shoulders.
"He is accus=
ed,
and he must prove his innocence," said he.
"But that is
nonsense!" interposed Arthur warmly. "There is no justice in such=
an
assertion. If I know anything of the purpose of the law, and I think I do, =
you
must first prove this man's guilt before you carry him to Austria to be tri=
ed
by a foreign court."
"I don't car=
e a
snap for the purpose of the law," retorted Le Drieux. "Our treaty
with Austria provides for extradition, and that settles it. This man is alr=
eady
under arrest. The judge who issued the warrant believes that Jones is Jack
Andrews and that Jack Andrews stole the pearls from the Countess Ahmberg. Of
course, the prisoner will have a formal examination, when he may defend him=
self
as best he can, but we haven't made this move without being sure of our cas=
e,
and it will be rather difficult for him to escape the penalty of his crimes,
clever as he is."
"Clever?&quo=
t;
It was Jones himself who asked this, wonderingly.
Le Drieux bowed to
him with exaggerated politeness.
"I consider =
you
the cleverest rogue in existence," said he. "But even the clevere=
st
may be trapped, in time, and your big mistake was in disposing of those pea=
rls
so openly. See here," he added, taking from his pocket a small packet.
"Here are the famous Taprobane pearls--six of them--which were found in
your room a half hour ago. They, also, were a part of the countess'
collection."
"Oh, you have
been to my room?"
"Under the
authority of the law."
"And you have
seen those pearls before?"
"Several tim=
es.
I am an expert in pearls and can recognize their value at a glance," s=
aid
Le Drieux with much dignity.
Jones gave a litt=
le
chuckle and then turned deprecatingly to Mr. Merrick.
"You need not
come with me to the station, sir," said he; "but, if you wish to
assist me, please send me a lawyer and then go to the Continental and tell =
Mr.
Goldstein of my predicament."
"I will do
that," promptly replied Uncle John.
Jones turned to b=
ow
to the girls.
"I hope you
young ladies can forgive this disgraceful scene," he remarked in a ton=
e of
regret rather then humiliation. "I do not see how any effort of mine c=
ould
have avoided it. It seems to be one of the privileges of the people's
guardians, in your free country, to arrest and imprison anyone on a mere
suspicion of crime. Here is a case in which someone has sadly blundered, an=
d I
imagine it is the pompous gentleman who claims to know pearls and does
not," with a nod toward Le Drieux, who scowled indignantly.
"It is an
outrage!" cried Beth.
"It's worse =
than
that," said Patsy; "but of course you can easily prove your
innocence."
"If I have t=
he
chance," the boy agreed. "But at present I am a prisoner and must
follow my captor."
He turned to the
officer and bowed to indicate that he was ready to go. Arthur shook the you=
ng
fellow's hand and promised to watch his interests in every possible way.
"Go with him
now, Arthur," proposed Louise. "It's a hard thing to be taken to =
jail
and I'm sure he needs a friend at his side at this time."
"Good
advice," agreed Uncle John. "Of course they'll give him a prelimi=
nary
hearing before locking him up, and if you'll stick to him I'll send on a la=
wyer
in double-quick time."
"Thank
you," said the boy. "The lawyer first, Mr. Merrick, and then Gold=
stein."
Uncle John was of=
f on
his errands even before Jones and Arthur Weldon had driven away from the ho=
tel
with the officer and Le Drieux. There had been no "scene" and non=
e of
the guests of the hotel had any inkling of the arrest.
Uncle John had al=
ways
detested lawyers and so he realized that he was sure to be a poor judge of =
the
merits of any legal gentleman he might secure to defend Jones.
"I may as we=
ll
leave it to chance," he grumbled, as he drove down the main boulevard.
"The rascals are all alike!"
Glancing to this =
side
and that, he encountered a sign on a building: "Fred A. Colby,
Lawyer."
"All right; I
mustn't waste time," he said, and stopping his driver he ascended a
stairway to a gloomy upper hall. Here the doors, all in a row, were alike
forbidding, but one of them bore the lawyer's name, so Mr. Merrick turned t=
he
handle and abruptly entered.
A sallow-faced yo=
ung
man, in his shirt-sleeves, was seated at a table littered with newspapers a=
nd
magazines, engaged in the task of putting new strings on a battered guitar.=
As
his visitor entered he looked up in surprise and laid down the instrument. =
"I want to s=
ee
Colby, the lawyer," began Uncle John, regarding the disordered room wi=
th
strong disapproval.
"You are see=
ing
him," retorted the young man, with a fleeting smile, "and I'll bet
you two to one that if you came here on business you will presently go away=
and
find another lawyer."
"Why?"
questioned Mr. Merrick, eyeing him more closely.
"I don't imp=
ress
people," explained Colby, picking up the guitar again. "I don't
inspire confidence. As for the law, I know it as well as anyone--which is
begging the question--but when I'm interviewed I have to admit I've had no
experience."
"No
practice?"
"Just a few
collections, that's all I sleep on that sofa yonder, eat at a cafeteria, an=
d so
manage to keep body and soul together. Once in a while a stranger sees my s=
ign
and needs a lawyer, so he climbs the stairs. But when he meets me face to f=
ace
he beats a hasty retreat."
As he spoke, Colb=
y tightened
a string and began strumming it to get it tuned. Uncle John sat down on the=
one
other chair in the room and thought a moment.
"You've been
admitted to the bar?" he asked.
"Yes, sir.
Graduate of the Penn Law School."
"Then you kn=
ow
enough to defend an innocent man from an unjust accusation?"
Colby laid down t=
he
guitar.
"Ah!" s=
aid
he, "this grows interesting. I really believe you have half a mind to =
give
me your case. Sir, I know enough, I hope, to defend an innocent man; but I
can't promise, offhand, to save him, even from an unjust accusation." =
"Why not?
Doesn't law stand for justice?"
"Perhaps; in=
the
abstract. Anyhow, there's a pretty fable to that effect. But law in the
abstract, and law as it is interpreted and applied, are not even second
cousins. To be quite frank, I'd rather defend a guilty person than an innoc=
ent
one. The chances are I'd win more easily. Are you sure your man is
innocent?"
Uncle John scowle=
d.
"Perhaps I'd
better find another lawyer who is more optimistic," he said.
"Oh, I'm ful=
l of
optimism, sir. My fault is that I'm not well known in the courts and have no
arrangement to divide my fees with the powers that be. But I've been observ=
ing
and I know the tricks of the trade as well as any lawyer in California. My
chief recommendation, however, is that I'm eager to get a case, for my rent=
is
sadly overdue. Why not try me, just to see what I'm able to do? I'd like to
find that out myself."
"This is a v=
ery
important matter," asserted Mr. Merrick.
"Very. If I'm
evicted for lack of rent-money my career is crippled."
"I mean the =
case
is a serious one."
"Are you wil=
ling
to pay for success?"
"Liberally.&=
quot;
"Then I'll w=
in
it for you. Don't judge my ability by my present condition, sir. Tell me yo=
ur
story and I'll get to work at once."
Uncle John rose w=
ith
sudden decision.
"Put on your
coat," he said, and while Colby obeyed with alacrity he gave him a bri=
ef
outline of the accusation brought against Jones. "I want you to take my
car," he added, "and hasten to the police station, that you may be
present at the preliminary examination. There will be plenty of time to talk
afterward."
Colby nodded. His
coat and hat made the young lawyer quite presentable and without another wo=
rd
he followed Mr. Merrick down the stairs and took his seat in the motorcar. =
Next
moment he was whirling down the street and Uncle John looked after him with=
a
half puzzled expression, as if he wondered whether or not he had blundered =
in
his choice of a lawyer.
A little later he
secured a taxicab and drove to the office of the Continental Film Manufactu=
ring
Company. Mr. Goldstein was in his office but sent word that he was too busy=
to
see visitors. Nevertheless, when Mr. Merrick declared he had been sent by A.
Jones, he was promptly admitted to the manager's sanctum.
"Our friend,
young Jones," he began, "has just been arrested by a detective.&q=
uot;
Goldstein's nervo=
us
jump fairly raised him off his chair; but in an instant he settled back and
shot an eager, interested look at his visitor.
"What for, M=
r.
Merrick?" he demanded.
"For stealing
valuable pearls from some foreign woman. A trumped-up charge, of course.&qu=
ot;
Goldstein rubbed =
the
palms of his hands softly together. His face wore a look of supreme content=
.
"Arrested! A=
h,
that is bad, Mr. Merrick. It is very bad indeed. And it involves us--the
Continental, you know--in an embarrassing manner."
"Why so?&quo=
t;
asked Uncle John.
"Can't you s=
ee,
sir?" asked the manager, trying hard to restrain a smile. "If the
papers get hold of this affair, and state that our president--our biggest
owner--the man who controls the Continental stock--is a common thief, the s=
tory
will--eh--eh--put a bad crimp in our business, so to speak."
Uncle John looked=
at
the man thoughtfully.
"So Jones
controls the Continental, eh?" he said. "How long since, Mr. Gold=
stein?"
"Why, since =
the
January meeting, a year and more ago. It was an astonishing thing, and
dramatic--believe me! At the annual meeting of stockholders in walks this
stripling--a mere kid--proves that he holds the majority of stock, elects
himself president and installs a new board of directors, turning the tired =
and
true builders of the business out in the cold. Then, without apology, promi=
se
or argument, President Jones walks out again! In an hour he upset the old
conditions, turned our business topsy-turvy and disappeared with as little
regard for the Continental as if it had been a turnip. That stock must have
cost him millions, and how he ever got hold of it is a mystery that has kep=
t us
all guessing ever since. The only redeeming feature of the affair was that =
the
new board of directors proved decent and Jones kept away from us all and le=
t us
alone. I'd never seen him until he came here a few days ago and began to or=
der
me around. So, there, Mr. Merrick, you know as much about Jones as I do.&qu=
ot;
Mr. Merrick was
perplexed. The more he heard of young Jones the more amazing; the boy seeme=
d to
be.
"Has the
Continental lost money since Jones took possession?" he inquired.
"I think
not," replied Goldstein, cautiously. "You're a business man, Mr. =
Merrick,
and can understand that our machinery--our business system--is so perfect t=
hat
it runs smoothly, regardless of who grabs the dividends. What I object to is
this young fellow's impertinence in interfering with my work here. He walks=
in,
reverses my instructions to my people, orders me to do unbusinesslike things
and raises hob with the whole organization."
"Well, it
belongs to him, Goldstein," said Uncle John, in defense of the boy.
"He is your employer and has the right to dictate. But just at present=
he
needs your help. He asked me to come here and tell you of his arrest."=
Goldstein shrugged
his shoulders.
"His arrest =
is
none of my business," was his reply. "If Jones stole the money to=
buy
Continental stock he must suffer the consequences. I'm working for the stoc=
k,
not for the individual."
"But surely =
you
will go to the station and see what can be done for him?" protested Un=
cle
John.
"Surely I wi=
ll
not," retorted the manager. "What's the use? There isn't even a f=
oot
of good picture film in so common a thing as the arrest of a thief--and the
censors would forbid it if there were. Let Jones fight his own battles.&quo=
t;
"It occurs to
me," suggested Mr. Merrick, who was growing indignant, "that Mr.
Jones will be able to satisfy the court that he is not a thief, and so secu=
re
his freedom without your assistance. What will happen then, Mr.
Goldstein?"
"Then? Why, =
it
is still none of my business. I'm the manager of a motion picture concern--=
one
of the biggest concerns in the world--and I've nothing to do with the troub=
les
of my stockholders."
He turned to his =
desk
and Mr. Merrick was obliged to go away without farther parley. On his way o=
ut
he caught a glimpse of Maud Stanton passing through the building. She was
dressed in the costume of an Indian princess and looked radiantly beautiful.
Uncle John received a nod and a smile and then she was gone, without as yet=
a
hint of the misfortune that had overtaken A. Jones of Sangoa.
Returning to the
hotel, rather worried and flustered by the morning's events, he found the g=
irls
quietly seated in the lobby, busy over their embroidery.
"Well,
Uncle," said Patsy, cheerfully, "is Ajo still in limbo?"
"I suppose
so," he rejoined, sinking into an easy chair beside her. "Is Arth=
ur
back yet?"
"No," s=
aid
Louise, answering for her husband, "he is probably staying to do all he
can for the poor boy."
"Did you get=
a
lawyer?" inquired Beth.
"I got a fel=
low
who claims to be a lawyer; but I'm not sure he will be of any use."
Then he related h=
is
interview with Colby, to the amusement of his nieces, all three of whom
approved the course he had taken and were already prepared to vouch for the
briefless barrister's ability, on the grounds that eccentricity meant talen=
t.
"You see,&qu=
ot;
explained Miss Patsy, "he has nothing else to do but jump heart and so=
ul
into this case, so Ajo will be able to command his exclusive services, which
with some big, bustling lawyer would be impossible."
Luncheon was over
before Arthur finally appeared, looking somewhat grave and perturbed.
"They won't
accept bail," he reported. "Jones must stay in jail until his for=
mal
examination, and if they then decide that he is really Jack Andrews he will
remain in jail until his extradition papers arrive."
"When will h=
e be
examined?" asked Louise.
"Whenever the
judge feels in the humor, it seems. Our lawyer demanded Jones' release at o=
nce,
on the ground that a mistake of identity had been made; but the stupid judg=
e is
of the opinion that the charge against our friend is valid. At any rate he
refused to let him go. He wouldn't even argue the case at present. He issue=
s a
warrant on a charge of larceny, claps a man in jail whether innocent or not,
and refuses to let him explain anything or prove his innocence until a form=
al
examination is held."
"There is so=
me
justice in that," remarked Uncle John. "Suppose Jones is guilty; =
it
would be a mistake to let him go free until a thorough examination had been
made."
"And if he is
innocent, he will have spent several days in jail, been worried and disgrac=
ed,
and there is no redress for the false imprisonment. The judge won't even
apologize to him!"
"It's all in=
the
interests of law and order, I suppose," said Patsy; "but the law
seems dreadfully inadequate to protect the innocent. I suppose it's because=
the
courts are run by cheap and incompetent people who couldn't earn a salary in
any other way."
"Someone must
run them, and it isn't an ambitious man's job," replied Uncle John.
"What do you think of the lawyer I sent you, Arthur?"
The young ranchman
smiled.
"He's a wond=
er,
Uncle. He seemed to know more about the case than Jones or I did, and more
about the law than the judge did. He's an irrepressible fellow, and told th=
at
rascal Le Drieux a lot about pearls that the expert never had heard before.
Where did you find him, sir?"
Uncle John explai=
ned.
"Well,"
said Arthur, "I think Jones is in good hands. Colby has secured him a
private room at the jail, with a bath and all the comforts of home. Meals a=
re
to be sent in from a restaurant and when I left the place the jailer had go=
ne
out to buy Jones a stock of books to while away his leisure hours--which are
bound to be numerous. I'd no idea a prisoner could live in such luxury.&quo=
t;
"Money did i=
t, I
suppose," Patsy shrewdly suggested.
"Yes. Jones
wrote a lot of checks. Colby got a couple of hundred for a retaining fee and
gleefully informed us it was more money than he had ever owned at one time =
in
all his previous career. I think he will earn it, however."
"Where is he
now?" asked Uncle John.
"Visiting all
the newspaper offices, to 'buy white space,' as he put it. In other words,
Colby will bribe the press to silence, at least until the case develops.&qu=
ot;
"I'm glad of
that," exclaimed Beth. "What do you think of this queer business,
Arthur?"
"Why, I've no
doubt of the boy's innocence, if that is what you mean. I've watched him
closely and am positive he is no more Jack Andrews than I am. But I fear he
will have a hard task to satisfy the judge that he is falsely accused. It w=
ould
be an admission of error, you see, and so the judge will prefer to find him
guilty. It is this same judge--Wilton, I think his name is--who will conduct
the formal examination, and to-day he openly sneered at the mention of Sang=
oa.
On the other hand, he evidently believed every statement made by Le Drieux
about the identity of the pearls found in Jones' possession. Le Drieux has a
printed list of the Ahmberg pearls, and was able to check the Jones' pearls=
off
this list with a fair degree of accuracy. It astonished even me, and I could
see that Jones was equally amazed."
"Wouldn't it=
be
queer if they convicted him!" exclaimed Beth.
"It would be
dreadful, since he is innocent," said Patsy.
"There is no
need to worry about that just at present," Arthur assured them. "=
I am
placing a great deal of confidence in the ability of Lawyer Colby."
The Stanton girls=
and
Mrs. Montrose came in early that afternoon. They had heard rumors of the ar=
rest
of Jones and were eager to learn what had occurred. Patsy and Beth followed
them to their rooms to give them every known detail and canvass the situati=
on
in all its phases.
"Goldstein h=
as
been an angel all afternoon," said Flo. "He grinned and capered a=
bout
like a schoolboy and some of us guessed he'd been left a fortune."
"He ought to=
be
ashamed of himself." Patsy indignantly asserted. "The man admitte=
d to
Uncle John that Ajo is the biggest stockholder in the Continental, the
president, to boot; yet Goldstein wouldn't lift a finger to help him and
positively refused to obey his request to go to him after he was
arrested."
"I know about
that," said Aunt Jane, quietly. "Goldstein talked to me about the
affair this afternoon and declared his conviction that young Jones is reall=
y a
pearl thief. He has taken a violent dislike to the boy and is delighted to
think his stock will be taken away from him."
Maud had silently
listened to this dialogue as she dressed for dinner. But now she impetuously
broke into the conversation, saying:
"Something
definite ought to be done for the boy. He needs intelligent assistance. I'm
afraid his situation is serious."
"That is what
Arthur thinks," said Beth. "He says that unless he can furnish pr=
oof
that he is not Jack Andrews, and that he came by those pearls honestly, he =
will
be shipped to Austria for trial. No one knows what those foreigners will do=
to
him, but he would probably fare badly in their hands."
"Such being =
the
logical conclusion," said Maud, "we must make our fight now, at t=
he
examination."
"Uncle John =
has
engaged a lawyer," announced Patsy, "and if he proves bright and
intelligent he ought to be able to free Ajo."
"I'd like to=
see
that lawyer, and take his measure," answered Maud, musingly, and her w=
ish
was granted soon after they had finished dinner. Colby entered the hotel,
jaunty as ever, and Arthur met him and introduced him to the girls.
"You must
forgive me for coming on a disagreeable mission," began the young
attorney, "but I have promised the judge that I would produce all the
pearls Mr. Jones gave you, not later than to-morrow morning. He wants them =
as
evidence, and to compare privately with Le Drieux's list, although he will
likely have the expert at his elbow. So I can't promise that you will ever =
get
your jewels back again."
"Oh. You thi=
nk,
then, that Mr. Jones is guilty?" said Maud coldly.
"No, indeed;=
I
believe he is innocent. A lawyer should never suspect his client, you know.=
But
to win I must prove my case, and opposed to me is that terrible Le Drieux, =
who
insists he is never mistaken."
"Arthur--Mr.
Weldon--says you understand pearls as well as Mr. Le Drieux does,"
suggested Patsy.
"I thank him;
but he is in error. I chattered to the judge about pearls, it is true, beca=
use
I found he couldn't tell a pearl from a glass bead; and I believe I even
perplexed Le Drieux by hinting at a broad knowledge on the subject which I =
do
not possess. It was all a bit of bluff on my part. But by to-morrow morning
this knowledge will be a fact, for I've bought a lot of books on pearls and
intend to sit up all night reading them."
"That was a
clever idea," said Uncle John, nodding approval.
"So my missi=
on
here this evening is to get the pearls, that I may study them as I read,&qu=
ot;
continued Colby. "Heretofore I've only seen the things through a plate
glass window, or a show case. The success of our defense depends upon our
refuting Le Drieux's assertion that the pearls found in Jones' possession a=
re a
part of the Countess Ahmberg's collection. He has a full description of the
stolen gems and I must be prepared to show that none of the Jones' pearls i=
s on
the list."
"Can you do
that?" asked Maud.
She was gazing
seriously into the young man's eyes and this caused him to blush and stamme=
r a
little as he replied:
"I--I hope t=
o,
Miss Stanton."
"And are you
following no other line of defense?" she inquired.
He sat back and
regarded the girl curiously for a moment.
"I would like
you to suggest some other line of defense," he replied. "I've tri=
ed
to find one--and failed."
"Can't you p=
rove
he is not Jack Andrews?"
"Not if the =
identity
of the pearls is established," said the lawyer. "If the pearls we=
re
stolen, and if Jones cannot explain how he obtained possession of them, the
evidence is prima facia that he is Jack Andrews, or at least his accomplice.
Moreover, his likeness to the photograph is somewhat bewildering, you must
admit."
This gloomy view =
made
them all silent for a time, each thoughtfully considering the matter. Then =
Maud
asked:
"Do you know=
the
cash value of Mr. Jones' stock in the Continental Film Company?"
Colby shook his h=
ead,
but Uncle John replied:
"Goldstein t=
old
me it is worth millions."
"Ah!"
exclaimed the girl. "There, then, is our proof."
The lawyer reflec=
ted,
with knitted brows.
"I confess I
don't quite see your point," said he.
"How much we=
re
those stolen pearls worth?" asked the girl.
"I don't
know."
"You know th=
ey
were not worth millions. Jack Andrews was an adventurer, by Le Drieux's
showing; he was a fellow who lived by his wits and generally earned his
livelihood by gambling with the scions of wealthy families. Even had he sto=
len
the Countess' pearls and disposed of the collection at enormous prices--whi=
ch a
thief is usually unable to do--he would still have been utterly unable to
purchase a controlling interest in the Continental stock."
She spoke with qu=
iet
assurance, but her statement roused the group to sudden excitement.
"Hooray!&quo=
t;
cried Patsy. "There's your proof, Mr. Colby."
"The logic of
genius," commented Uncle John.
"Why, it's p=
roof
positive!" said Beth.
"It is certa=
inly
a strong argument in favor of the boy's innocence," asserted Arthur
Weldon.
"Maud's a wo=
nder
when she wakes up. She ought to have been a 'lady detective,'" remarked
Flo, regarding her sister admiringly.
Colby, at first
startled, was now also regarding Maud Stanton with open admiration; but the=
re
was an odd smile on his lips, a smile of indulgent toleration.
"Le Drieux's
statement connects Andrews with two other pearl robberies," he reminded
her. "The necklace of the Princess Lemoine is said to be priceless, and
the Grandison collection stolen in London was scarcely less valuable than t=
hat
of Countess Ahmberg."
"Allowing all
that," said Mr. Merrick, "two or three hundred thousand dollars w=
ould
doubtless cover the value of the entire lot. I am quite certain, Mr. Colby,
that Miss Stanton's suggestion will afford you an excellent line of
defense."
"I shall not
neglect it, you may be sure," replied the lawyer. "Tonight I'll t=
ry
to figure out, as nearly as possible, the total cash value of all the stolen
pearls, and of course Jones will tell us what he paid for his stock, or how
much it is worth. But I am not sure this argument will have as much weight =
as
Miss Stanton suggests it may. A bold gambler, such as Andrews, might have
obtained a huge sum at Baden Baden or Monte Carlo; and, were he indeed so
clever a thief as his record indicates, he may have robbed a bank, or stole=
n in
some way an immense sum of money. Logically, the question has weight and I
shall present it as effectively as I can; but, as I said, I rely more on my
ability to disprove the identity of the pearls, on which the expert Le Drie=
ux
lays so much stress. Jones will have a thorough and formal examination with=
in a
few days--perhaps to-morrow--and if the judge considers that Andrews the pe=
arl
thief has been captured, he will be held here pending the arrival from
Washington of the extradition papers--say two or three weeks longer." =
"Then we sha=
ll
have all that time to prove his innocence?" inquired Maud.
"Unfortunate=
ly,
no. There will be no further trial of the prisoner until he gets to Vienna =
and
is delivered to the authorities there. All our work must be done previous to
the formal examination."
"You do not =
seem
very hopeful," observed Maud, a hint of reproach in her tone.
"Then
appearances are against me, Miss Stanton," replied the lawyer with a
smile. "This is my first important case, and if I win it my future is =
assured;
so I mean to win. But in order to do that I must consider the charge of the
prosecution, the effect of its arguments upon the judge, and then find the
right means to combat them. When I am with you, the friends of the accused,=
I
may consider the seamy side of the fabric; but the presiding judge will fin=
d me
so sure of my position that he will instinctively agree with me."
They brought him =
the
pearls Jones had presented to them and then the lawyer bade them good night=
and
went to his office to master the history of pearls in general and those fam=
ous
ones stolen from Countess Ahmberg in particular.
When he had gone
Uncle John remarked:
"Well, what =
do
you think of him?"
They seemed in do=
ubt.
"I think he =
will
do all he can," said Patsy.
"And he appe=
ars
quite a clever young man," added Beth, as if to encourage them.
"Allowing all
that," said Maud, gravely, "he has warned us of the possibility of
failure. I cannot understand how the coils of evidence have wrapped themsel=
ves
so tightly around poor Ajo."
"That,"
asserted Flo, "is because you cannot understand Ajo himself. Nor can I;
nor can any of us!"
My mother used to=
say
to me: "Never expect to find brains in a pretty girl." Perhaps she
said it because I was not a pretty girl and she wished to encourage me. In =
any
event, that absurd notion of the ancients that when the fairies bestow the =
gift
of beauty on a baby they withhold all other qualities has so often been
disproved that we may well disregard it.
Maud Stanton was a
pretty girl--indeed, a beautiful girl--but she possessed brains as well as
beauty and used her intellect to advantage more often than her quiet demean=
or
would indicate to others than her most intimate associates. From the first =
she
had been impressed by the notion that there was something mysterious about =
A.
Jones and that his romantic explanation of his former life and present posi=
tion
was intended to hide a truth that would embarrass him, were it fully known.
Therefore she had secretly observed the young man, at such times as they we=
re
together, and had treasured every careless remark he had made--every admiss=
ion
or assertion--and made a note of it. The boy's arrest had startled her beca=
use
it was so unexpected, and her first impulse was to doubt his innocence. Lat=
er,
however, she had thoroughly reviewed the notes she had made and decided he =
was
innocent.
In the quiet of h=
er
own room, when she was supposed to be asleep, Maud got out her notebook and
read therein again the review of all she had learned concerning A. Jones of
Sangoa.
"For a boy, =
he
has a good knowledge of business; for a foreigner, he has an excellent
conception of modern American methods," she murmured thoughtfully.
"He is simple in little things; shrewd, if not wise, in important matt=
ers.
He proved this by purchasing the control of the Continental, for its shares=
pay
enormous dividends.
"Had he stol=
en
those pearls, I am sure he would have been too shrewd to have given a porti=
on
of them to us, knowing we would display them openly and so attract attentio=
n to
them. A thief so ingenious as Andrews, for instance, would never have done =
so
foolish a thing as that, I am positive. Therefore, Jones is not Andrews.
"Now, to acc=
ount
for the likeness between Andrews, an American adventurer, and Jones, reared=
and
educated in the mysterious island of Sangoa. Ajo's father must have left so=
me
near relatives in this country when he became a recluse in his far-away isl=
and.
Why did he become a recluse? That's a subject I must consider carefully, fo=
r he
was a man of money, a man of science, a man of affairs. Jones has told us he
has no relatives here. He may have spoken honestly, if his father kept him =
in ignorance
of the family history. I'm not going to jump at the conclusion that the man=
who
calls himself Jack Andrews is a near relative of our Ajo--a cousin,
perhaps--but I'll not forget that that might explain the likeness between t=
hem.
"Ajo's father
must have amassed a great fortune, during many years, from his pearl fisher=
ies.
That would explain why the boy has so much money at his disposal. He didn't=
get
it from the sale of stolen pearls, that is certain. In addition to the mone=
y he
invested in the Continental, he has enough in reserve to expend another mil=
lion
or so in Patsy Doyle's motion picture scheme, and he says he can spare it
easily and have plenty left! This, in my opinion, is a stronger proof of Jo=
nes'
innocence than Lawyer Colby seems to consider it. To me, it is conclusive. =
"Now, then,
where is Sangoa? How can one get to the island? And, finally, how did Jones=
get
here from Sangoa and how is he to return, if he ever wants to go back to his
valuable pearl fisheries, his people and his home?"
She strove earnes=
tly
to answer these questions, but could not with her present knowledge. So she
tucked the notebook into a drawer of her desk, put out her light and got in=
to
bed.
But sleep would n=
ot
come to her. The interest she took in the fate of young Jones was quite
impersonal. She liked the boy in the same way she had liked dozens of boys.=
The
fact that she had been of material assistance in saving his life aroused no
especial tenderness in her. On his own account, however, Jones was interest=
ing
to her because he was so unusual. The complications that now beset him adde=
d to
this interest because they were so curious and difficult to explain. Maud h=
ad
the feeling that she had encountered a puzzle to tax her best talents, and =
so she
wanted to solve it.
Suddenly she boun=
ded
out of bed and turned on the electric light. The notebook was again brought
into requisition and she penciled on its pages the following words:
"What was the
exact date that Jack Andrews landed in America? What was the exact date that
Ajo landed from Sangoa? The first question may be easily answered, for
doubtless the police have the record. But--the other?"
Then she replaced the book, put out the light =
and
went to sleep very easily.
That last thought, now jotted down in black and
white, had effectually cleared her mind of its cobwebs.
Colby came around
next morning just as Mr. Merrick was entering the breakfast room, and the
little man took the lawyer in to have a cup of coffee. The young attorney s=
till
maintained his jaunty air, although red-eyed from his night's vigil, and wh=
en
he saw the Stanton girls and their Aunt Jane having breakfast by an open wi=
ndow
he eagerly begged permission to join them, somewhat to Uncle John's amuseme=
nt.
"Well?"
demanded Maud, reading Colby's face with her clear eyes.
"I made a ni=
ght
of it, as I promised," said he. "This morning I know so much about
pearls that I'm tempted to go into the business."
"As Jack And=
rews
did?" inquired Flo.
"Not exactly=
,"
he answered with a smile. "But it's an interesting subject--so interes=
ting
that I only abandoned my reading when I found I was burning my electric lam=
p by
daylight. Listen: A pearl is nothing more or less than nacre, a fluid secre=
tion
of a certain variety of oyster--not the eatable kind. A grain of sand gets
between the folds of the oyster and its shell and irritates the beast. In
self-defense the oyster covers the sand with a fluid which hardens and form=
s a
pearl."
"I've always
known that," said Flo, with a toss of her head.
"Yes; but I =
want
you all to bear it in mind, for it will explain a discovery I have made. Be=
fore
I get to that, however, I want to say that at one time the island of Ceylon
supplied the world with its most famous pearls. The early Egyptians discove=
red
them there, as well as on the Persian and Indian coasts. The pearl which
Cleopatra is said to have dissolved in wine and swallowed was worth about f=
our
hundred thousand dollars in our money; but of course pearls were scarce in =
her day.
A single pearl was cut in two and used for earrings for the statue of Venus=
in
the Pantheon at Rome, and the sum paid for it was equal to about a quarter =
of a
million dollars. Sir Thomas Gresham, in the days of Queen Elizabeth, had a
pearl valued at about seventy-five thousand dollars which he treated in the
same manner Cleopatra did, dissolving it in wine and boasting he had given =
the
most expensive dinner ever known."
"All of
which--" began Maud, impatiently.
"All of whic=
h,
Miss Stanton, goes to show that pearls have been of great price since the
beginning of history. Nowadays we get just as valuable pearls from the South
Seas, and even from Panama, St. Margarita and the Caromandel Coast, as ever
came from Ceylon. But only those of rare size, shape or color are now value=
d at
high prices. For instance, a string of matched pearls such as that owned by
Princess Lemoine is estimated as worth only eighty thousand dollars, becaus=
e it
could be quite easily duplicated. The collection of Countess Ahmberg was no=
ted
for its variety of shapes and colors more than for its large or costly pear=
ls;
and that leads to my great discovery."
"Thank
heaven," said Flo, with a sigh.
"I have
discovered that our famous expert. Le Drieux, is an arrant humbug."
"We had susp=
ected
that," remarked Maud.
"Now we know
it," declared Colby. "Pearls, I have learned, change their color,
their degree of luster, even their weight, according to atmospheric conditi=
ons
and location. A ten-penny-weight pearl in Vienna might weigh eight or nine
pennyweights here in California, or it is more likely to weigh twelve. The
things absorb certain moistures and chemicals from the air and sun, and shed
those absorptions when kept in darkness or from the fresh air. Pearls die, =
so
to speak; but are often restored to life by immersions in sea-water, their
native element. As for color: the pink and blue pearls often grow white, at
times, especially if kept long in darkness, but sun-baths restore their for=
mer
tints. In the same way a white pearl, if placed near the fumes of ammonia,
changes to a pinkish hue, while certain combinations of chemicals render th=
em
black, or 'smoked.' A clever man could steal a pink pearl, bleach it white,=
and
sell it to its former owner without its being recognized. Therefore, when o=
ur
expert, Le Drieux, attempts to show that the pearls found in Jones' possess=
ion
are identical with those stolen from the Austrian lady, he fails to allow f=
or
climatic or other changes and cannot be accurate enough to convince anyone =
who
knows the versatile characteristics of these gems."
"Ah, but does
the judge know that, Mr. Colby?" asked Maud.
"I shall post him. After that, the conviction of the prisoner will be impossible." <= o:p>
"Do you think
the examination will be held to-day?" inquired Mr. Merrick.
"I cannot te=
ll
that. It will depend upon the mood of Judge Wilton. If he feels grouchy or
disagreeable, he is liable to postpone the case. If he is in good spirits a=
nd
wants to clear his docket he may begin the examination at ten o'clock, to-d=
ay,
which is the hour set for it."
"Is your
evidence ready, Mr. Colby?"
"Such as I c=
an
command, Miss Stanton," he replied. "Last evening I wired New York
for information as to the exact amount of stock Jones owns in the Continent=
al,
and I got a curious reply. The stock is valued at nineteen hundred thousand
dollars, but no one believes that Jones owns it personally. It is generally
thought that for politic reasons the young man was made the holder of stock=
for
several different parties, who still own it, although it is in Jones' name.=
The
control of stock without ownership is not unusual. It gives the real owners=
an
opportunity to hide behind their catspaw, who simply obeys their
instructions."
"I do not
believe that Jones is connected with anyone in that manner," said Mr.
Merrick.
"Nor do I,&q=
uot;
asserted Aunt Jane. "His interference with Goldstein's plans proves he=
is
under no obligations to others, for he has acted arbitrarily, in accordance
with his personal desires and against the financial interests of the concer=
n."
"Why didn't =
you
ask him about this, instead of wiring to New York?" demanded Maud.
"He might not
give us exact information, under the circumstances," said Colby.
The girl frowned.=
"Jones is no=
t an
ordinary client," continued the lawyer, coolly. "He won't tell me
anything about himself, or give me what is known as 'inside information.' On
the contrary, he contents himself with saying he is innocent and I must pro=
ve
it. I'm going to save the young man, but I'm not looking to him for much
assistance."
Maud still frowne=
d.
Presently she said:
"I want to s=
ee
Mr. Jones. Can you arrange an interview for me, sir?"
"Of course.
You'd better go into town with me this morning. If the examination is held,=
you
will see Jones then. If it's postponed, you may visit him in the jail."=
;
Maud reflected a
moment.
"Very
well," said she, "I'll go with you." Then, turning to her au=
nt,
she continued: "You must make my excuses to Mr. Goldstein, Aunt
Jane."
Mrs. Montrose eyed
her niece critically.
"Who will
accompany you, Maud?" she asked.
"Why, I'll
go," said Patsy Doyle; and so it was settled, Uncle John agreeing to
escort the young ladies and see them safely home again.
CHAPTER XXI - THE YACHT
"ARABELLA"
As the party drove
into town Colby said:
"It wouldn't=
be
a bad idea for Jones to bribe that fellow Le Drieux. If Le Drieux, who hold=
s a
warrant for the arrest of Jack Andrews, issued by the Austrian government a=
nd
vised in Washington, could be won to our side, the whole charge against our
friend might be speedily dissolved."
"Disgraceful=
!"
snapped Maud indignantly. "I am positive Mr. Jones would not consider =
such
a proposition."
"Diplomatic,=
not
disgraceful," commented the lawyer, smiling at her. "Why should J=
ones
refuse to consider bribery?"
"To use mone=
y to
defeat justice would be a crime as despicable as stealing pearls," she
said.
"Dear me!&qu=
ot;
muttered Colby, with a puzzled frown. "What a queer way to look at it.=
Le
Drieux has already been bribed, by a liberal reward, to run down a supposed
criminal. If we bribe him with a larger sum to give up the pursuit of Jones,
whom we believe innocent, we are merely defending ourselves from a possible
injustice which may be brought about by an error of judgment."
"Isn't this
judge both able and honest?" asked Uncle John.
"Wilton? Wel=
l,
possibly. His ability consists in his knowledge of law, rather than of men =
and
affairs. He believes himself honest, I suppose, but I'll venture to predict=
he
will act upon prejudice and an assumption of personal dignity, rather than
attempt to discover if his personal impressions correspond with justice. A
judge, Mr. Merrick, is a mere man, with all the average man's failings; so =
we
must expect him to be quite human."
"Never
mind," said Patsy resignedly. "Perhaps we shall find him a better=
judge
than you are lawyer."
"He has had =
more
experience, anyhow," said Colby, much amused at the shot.
They found, on
arriving at court, that the case had already been postponed. They drove to =
the
jail and obtained permission to see the prisoner, who was incarcerated under
the name of "Jack Andrews, alias A. Jones." Maud would have liked=
a
private audience, but the lawyer was present as well as Patsy and Mr. Merri=
ck,
and she did not like to ask them to go away.
The boy greeted t=
hem
with his old frank smile and did not seem in the least oppressed by the fact
that he was a prisoner accused of an ugly crime. The interview was held in a
parlor of the jail, a guard standing by the door but discreetly keeping out=
of
earshot.
Colby first infor=
med
the boy of the postponement of his formal examination and then submitted to=
his
client an outline of the defense he had planned. Jones listened quietly and
shook his head.
"Is that the
best you can do for me?"
"With my pre=
sent
knowledge, yes," returned the lawyer.
"And will it
clear me from this suspicion?" was the next question.
"I hope
so."
"You are not
sure?"
"This is an
extraordinary case, Mr. Jones. Your friends all believe you innocent, but t=
he
judge wants facts--cold, hard facts--and only these will influence him. Mr.=
Le
Drieux, commissioned by the Austrian government, states that you are Jack
Andrews, and have escaped to America after having stolen the pearls of a no=
ble
Viennese lady. He will offer, as evidence to prove his assertion, the
photograph and the pearls. You must refute this charge with counter-evidenc=
e,
in order to escape extradition and a journey to the country where the crime=
was
committed. There you will be granted a regular trial, to be sure, but even =
if
you then secure an acquittal you will have suffered many indignities and yo=
ur good
name will be permanently tarnished."
"Well,
sir?"
"I shall work
unceasingly to secure your release at the examination. But I wish I had some
stronger evidence to offer in rebuttal."
"Go ahead an=
d do
your best," said the boy, nonchalantly. "I will abide by the resu=
lt,
whatever it may be."
"May I ask a=
few
questions?" Maud timidly inquired.
He turned to her =
with
an air of relief.
"Most certai=
nly
you may, Miss Stanton."
"And you will
answer them?"
"I pledge my=
self
to do so, if I am able."
"Thank
you," she said. "I am not going to interfere with Mr. Colby's pla=
ns,
but I'd like to help you on my own account, if I may."
He gave her a qui=
ck
look, at once grateful, suspicious and amused. Then he said:
"Clear out,
Colby. I'm sure you have a hundred things to attend to, and when you're gone
I'll have a little talk with Miss Stanton."
The lawyer hesita=
ted.
"If this
conversation is likely to affect your case," he began, "then--&qu=
ot;
"Then Miss
Stanton will give you any information she may acquire," interrupted Jo=
nes,
and that left Colby no alternative but to go away.
"Now, then, =
Miss
Stanton, out with it!" said the boy.
"There are a=
lot
of things we don't know, but ought to know, in order to defend you
properly," she observed, looking at him earnestly.
"Question me,
then."
"I want to k=
now
the exact date when you landed in this country from Sangoa."
"Let me see.=
It
was the twelfth day of October, of last year."
"Oh! so long=
ago
as that? It is fifteen months. Once you told us that you had been here abou=
t a
year."
"I didn't st=
op
to count the months, you see. The twelfth of October is correct."
"Where did y=
ou
land?"
"At San
Francisco."
"Direct from
Sangoa?"
"Direct from
Sangoa."
"And what
brought you from Sangoa to San Francisco?"
"A boat.&quo=
t;
"A
sailing-ship?"
"No, a large
yacht. Two thousand tons burden."
"Whose yacht=
was
it?"
"Mine."=
"Then where =
is
it now?"
He reflected a
moment.
"I think Cap=
tain
Carg must be anchored at San Pedro, by now. Or perhaps he is at Long Beach,=
or
Santa Monica," he said quietly.
"On this
coast!" exclaimed Maud.
"Yes." =
Patsy was all
excitement by now and could no longer hold her tongue.
"Is the yacht
Arabella yours?" she demanded.
"It is, Miss
Patsy."
"Then it is
lying off Santa Monica Bay. I've seen it!" she cried.
"It was named
for my mother," said the boy, his voice softening, "and built by =
my
father. In the Arabella I made my first voyage; so you will realize I am ve=
ry
fond of the little craft."
Maud was busily
thinking.
"Is Captain =
Carg
a Sangoan?" she asked.
"Of course. =
The
entire crew are Sangoans."
"Then where =
has
the yacht been since it landed you here fifteen months ago?"
"It returned=
at
once to the island, and at my request has now made another voyage to Americ=
a."
"It has been
here several days."
"Quite
likely."
"Has it brou=
ght
more pearls from Sangoa?"
"Perhaps. I =
do
not know, for I have not yet asked for the captain's report."
Both Uncle John a=
nd
Patsy were amazed at the rapidity with which Maud was acquiring information=
of
a really important character. Indeed, she was herself surprised and the boy=
's
answers were already clearing away some of the mists. She stared at him
thoughtfully as she considered her next question, and Jones seemed to grow
thoughtful, too.
"I have no
desire to worry my friends over my peculiar difficulties," he presently
said. "Frankly, I am not in the least worried myself. The charge again=
st
me is so preposterous that I am sure to be released after the judge has
examined me; and, even at the worst--if I were sent to Vienna for trial--the
Austrians would know very well that I am not the man they seek."
"That trip w=
ould
cause you great inconvenience, however," suggested Mr. Merrick.
"I am told a
prisoner is treated very well, if he is willing to pay for such
consideration," said Jones.
"And your go=
od
name?" asked Maud, with a touch of impatience.
"My good nam=
e is
precious only to me, and I know it is still untarnished. For your sake, my
newly found friends, I would like the world to believe in me, but there is =
none
save you to suffer through my disgrace, and you may easily ignore my
acquaintance."
"What
nonsense!" cried Patsy, scornfully. "Tell me, sir, what's to beco=
me of
our grand motion picture enterprise, if you allow yourself to be shipped to
Vienna as a captured thief?"
He winced a trifl=
e at
the blunt epithet but quickly recovered and smiled at her.
"I'm sorry, =
Miss
Patsy," said he. "I know you will be disappointed if our enterpri=
se
is abandoned. So will I. Since this latest complication arose I fear I have=
not
given our project the consideration it deserves."
The boy passed his
hand wearily across his forehead and, rising from his seat, took a few nerv=
ous
steps up and down the room. Then, pausing, he asked abruptly:
"Are you sti=
ll
inclined to be my champion, Miss Stanton?"
"If I can be=
of
any help," she replied, simply.
"Then I wish=
you
would visit the yacht, make the acquaintance of Captain Carg and tell him of
the trouble I am in. Will you?"
"With pleasu=
re.
That is--I'll be glad to do your errand."
"I'll give y=
ou a
letter to him," he continued, and turning to the attendant he asked for
writing material, which was promptly furnished him. At the table he wrote a
brief note and enclosed it in an envelope which he handed to Maud.
"You will fi=
nd
the captain a splendid old fellow," said he.
"Will he ans=
wer
any questions I may ask him?" she demanded.
"That will
depend upon your questions," he answered evasively. "Carg is cons=
idered
a bit taciturn, I believe, but he has my best interests at heart and you wi=
ll
find him ready to serve me in any possible way."
"Is there any
objection to my going with Maud?" asked Patsy. "I'd like to visit
that yacht; it looks so beautiful from a distance."
"You may all=
go,
if you wish," said he. "It might be well for Mr. Merrick to meet
Captain Carg, who would prefer, I am sure, to discuss so delicate a matter =
as
my arrest with a man. Not that he is ungallant, but with a man such as Mr.
Merrick he would be more at his ease. Carg is a sailor, rather blunt and
rugged, both in speech and demeanor, but wholly devoted to me because I am =
at
present the Jones of Sangoa."
"I'll accomp=
any
the girls, of course," said Uncle John; "and I think we ought not=
to
delay in seeing your man. Colby says you may be called for examination at a=
ny
time."
"There is one
more question I want to ask," announced Maud as they rose to go. "=
;On
what date did you reach New York, after landing at San Francisco?"
"Why, it must
have been some time in last January. I know it was soon after Christmas, wh=
ich
I passed in Chicago."
"Is that as =
near
as you can recollect the date?"
"Yes, at sho=
rt
notice."
"Then perhaps you can tell me the date you took possession of the Continental Film Compan= y by entering the stockholders' meeting and ejecting yourself president?" <= o:p>
He seemed surpris=
ed
at her information and the question drew from him an odd laugh.
"How did you
learn about that incident?" he asked.
"Goldstein t=
old
Mr. Merrick. He said it was a coup d'etat."
The boy laughed
again.
"It was real=
ly
funny," said he. "Old Bingley, the last president, had no inkling
that I controlled the stock. He was so sure of being reelected that he had a
camera-man on hand to make a motion picture of the scene where all would ha=
il
him as the chief. The picture was taken, but it didn't interest Bingley any,
for it showed the consternation on his face, and the faces of his favored
coterie, when I rose and calmly voted him out of office with the majority of
the stock."
"Oh!" exclaimed Maud. "There was a picture made of that scene, then?" <= o:p>
"To be sure.=
It
was never shown but once to an audience of one. I sat and chuckled to myself
while the film was being run."
"Was it kept=
, or
destroyed?" asked the girl, breathlessly.
"I ordered it
preserved amongst our archives. Probably Goldstein now has the negative out
here, stored in our Hollywood vaults."
"And the
date--when was it?" she demanded.
"Why, the an=
nual
meeting is always the last Thursday in January. Figure it out--it must have
been the twenty-sixth. But is the exact date important, Miss Stanton?"=
"Very,"=
she
announced. "I don't know yet the exact date that Andrews landed in New
York on his return from Vienna, but if it happened to be later than the
twenty-sixth of January--"
"I see. In t=
hat
case the picture will clear me of suspicion."
"Precisely. I
shall now go and wire New York for the information I need."
"Can't you g=
et
it of Le Drieux?" asked the young man.
"Perhaps so;
I'll try. But it will be better to get the date from the steamship agent di=
rect."
With this they sh=
ook
the boy's hand, assuring him of their sympathy and their keen desire to aid
him, and then hurried away from the jail.
Uncle John and the
girls, after consulting together, decided to stop at the Hollywood studio a=
nd
pick up Flo and Mrs. Montrose.
"It would be=
a
shame to visit that lovely yacht without them," said Patsy; "and =
we
were all invited, you know."
"Yes, invite=
d by
a host who is unavoidably detained elsewhere," added Uncle John.
"Still, that
yacht is very exclusive," his niece stated, "and I'm sure we are =
the
first Americans to step foot on its decks."
They were all in a
brighter mood since the interview at the jail, and after a hurried lunch at=
the
hotel, during which Maud related to the others the morning's occurrences, t=
hey
boarded the big Merrick seven-passenger automobile and drove to Santa Monica
Bay. Louise couldn't leave the baby, who was cutting teeth, but Arthur and =
Beth
joined the party and on arrival at the beach Uncle John had no difficulty i=
n securing
a launch to take them out to the Arabella.
"They won't =
let
you aboard, though," declared the boatman. "A good many have tried
it, an' come back disjointed. There's something queer about that craft; but=
the
gov'ment don't seem worried, so I guess it ain't a pirate."
The beauty of the
yacht grew on them as they approached it. It was painted a pure white in ev=
ery
part and on the stern was the one word: Arabella, but no name of the port f=
rom
which she hailed. The ladder was hoisted and fastened to an upper rail, but=
as
they drew up to the smooth sides a close-cropped bullet-head projected from=
the
bulwarks and a gruff voice demanded:
"Well, what's
wanted?"
"We want to =
see
Captain Carg," called Arthur, in reply.
The head wagged
sidewise.
"No one allo=
wed
aboard," said the man.
"Here's a le=
tter
to the captain, from Mr. Jones," said Maud, exhibiting it.
The word seemed
magical. Immediately the head disappeared and an instant later the boarding
ladder began to descend. But the man, a sub-officer dressed in a neat unifo=
rm
of white and gold, came quickly down the steps and held out his hand for the
letter.
"Beg
pardon," said he, touching his cap to the ladies, "but the rules =
are very
strict aboard the Arabella. Will you please wait until I've taken this to t=
he
captain? Thank you!"
Then he ran light=
ly
up the steps and they remained seated in the launch until he returned.
"The captain
begs you to come aboard," he then said, speaking very respectfully but
with a face that betrayed his wonder at the order of his superior. Then he
escorted them up the side to the deck, which was marvelously neat and
attractive. Some half a dozen sailors lounged here and there and these star=
ed
as wonderingly at the invasion of strangers as the subaltern had done. But
their guide did not pause longer than to see that they had all reached the =
deck
safely, when he led them into a spacious cabin.
Here they faced
Captain Carg, whom Patsy afterward declared was the tallest, thinnest,
chilliest man she had ever encountered. His hair was grizzled and hung low =
on
his neck; his chin was very long and ended in a point; his nose was broad, =
with
sensitive nostrils that marked every breath he drew. As for his eyes, which
instantly attracted attention, they were brown and gentle as a girl's but h=
ad
that retrospective expression that suggests far-away thoughts or an utter l=
ack
of interest in one's surroundings. They never looked at but through one. The
effect of Carg's eyes was distinctly disconcerting.
The commander of =
the
Arabella bowed with much dignity as his guests entered and with a sweep of =
his
long arm he muttered in distant tones: "Pray be seated." They obe=
yed.
The cabin was luxuriously furnished and there was no lack of comfortable
chairs.
Somehow, despite =
the
courteous words and attitude of Captain Carg, there was something about him
that repelled confidence. Already Maud and Patsy were wondering if such a m=
an
could be loyal and true.
"My young
master," he was saying, as he glanced at the letter he still held in h=
is
hand, "tells me that any questions you may ask I may answer as freely =
as I
am permitted to."
"What does t=
hat
mean, sir?" Maud inquired, for the speech was quite ambiguous.
"That I await
your queries, Miss," with another perfunctory bow in her direction.
She hesitated,
puzzled how to proceed.
"Mr. Jones i=
s in
a little trouble," she finally began. "He has been mistaken for s=
ome
other man and--they have put him in jail until he can be examined by the
federal judge of this district."
The captain's face
exhibited no expression whatever. Even the eyes failed to express surprise =
at
her startling news. He faced his visitors without emotion.
"At the
examination," Maud went on, "it will be necessary for him to prov=
e he
is from Sangoa."
No reply. The cap=
tain
sat like a statue.
"He must also prove that certain pearls found in his possession came from Sangoa." <= o:p>
Still no reply. M=
aud
began to falter and fidget. Beth was amused. Patsy was fast growing indigna=
nt.
Flo had a queer expression on her pretty face that denoted mischief to such=
an
extent that it alarmed her Aunt Jane.
"I'm
afraid," said Maud, "that unless you come to your master's assist=
ance,
Captain Carg, he will be sent to Austria, a prisoner charged with a serious
crime."
She meant this as=
sertion
to be very impressive, but it did not seem to affect the man in the least. =
She
sighed, and Flo, with a giggle, broke an awkward pause.
"Well, why d=
on't
you get busy. Maud?" she asked.
"I--in what =
way,
Flo?" asked her sister, catching at the suggestion implied.
"Captain Carg
would make a splendid motion picture actor," declared the younger Miss
Stanton, audaciously. "He sticks close to his cues, you see, and won't
move till he gets one. He will answer your questions; yes, he has said he
would; but you may prattle until doomsday without effect, so far as he is
concerned, unless you finish your speech with an interrogation point."=
Mrs. Montrose gav=
e a
gasp of dismay, while Maud flushed painfully. The captain, however, allowed=
a
gleam of admiration to soften his grim features as he stared fixedly at sau=
cy
Flo. Patsy marked this fleeting change of expression at once and said hasti=
ly:
"I think. Ma=
ud,
dear, the captain is waiting to be questioned."
At this he cast a
grateful look in Miss Doyle's direction and bowed to her. Maud began to
appreciate the peculiar situation and marshalled her questions in orderly
array.
"Tell me,
please, where is Sangoa?" she began.
"In the South
Seas, Miss."
"Will you gi=
ve
me the latitude and longitude?"
"I cannot.&q=
uot;
"Oh, you mean
that you will not?"
"I have been
commanded to forget the latitude and longitude of Sangoa."
"But this is
folly!" she exclaimed, much annoyed. "Such absurd reticence may be
fatal to Mr. Jones' interests."
He made no reply =
to
this and after reflection she tried again.
"What is the
nearest land to Sangoa?"
"Toerdal,&qu=
ot;
said he.
"What is tha=
t,
an island?"
"Yes." =
"Is it on the
maps? Is it charted?"
"No, Miss.&q=
uot;
She silenced Flo's
aggravating giggle with a frown.
"Tell me,
sir," she continued, "what is the nearest land to Sangoa that is
known to the world?"
He smiled faintly=
as
he replied: "I cannot tell."
Uncle John had gr=
own
very uneasy by this time and he decided he ought to attempt to assist Maud.=
So,
addressing Captain Carg, he said in a positive tone:
"We quite
understand, sir, that it has been the policy of the owners of Sangoa to gua=
rd
all knowledge of the island's whereabouts from the outside world, as well as
the fact that its pearl fisheries are very rich. We understand that an infl=
ux
of treasure-seekers would embarrass the Sangoans. But we are close friends =
of
young Mr. Jones and have no desire to usurp his island kingdom or seize his
pearls. Our only anxiety is to free him from an unjust suspicion. A foolish=
man
named Le Drieux accuses Jones of stealing a choice collection of pearls fro=
m a
lady in Austria and fleeing with them to America. He has a photograph of the
real criminal, taken abroad, which curiously resembles your young master.&q=
uot;
Here the captain
turned a quick look upon the speaker and for the first time his eyes lost t=
heir
dull expression. But he made no remark and Uncle John continued:
"This man Le
Drieux found several choice pearls in the possession of Mr. Jones, which he
claims are a part of the stolen collection. Hence he obtained your master's
arrest. Jones says he brought the pearls from Sangoa, his home, where they =
were
found. No one here knows anything of Sangoa, so they regard his story with
suspicion. Now, sir, we believe that through you we can prove he has told t=
he
truth, and so secure his release. Here is the important question: Will you =
help
us?"
"Willingly,
sir," replied the captain.
"Are you forbidden to tell us where Sangoa is, or anything about the island?" <= o:p>
"Yes, sir; I=
am
forbidden to do that, under any circumstances," was the ready answer. =
"Have you be=
en
to Sangoa since you landed Mr. Jones in San Francisco, some fifteen months
ago?"
"Yes, sir.&q=
uot;
"And did you
bring back with you, on this trip, any pearls?"
"Yes, sir.&q=
uot;
"Have you
already disposed of them?"
"No, sir.&qu=
ot;
"Why not?&qu=
ot;
"I am awaiti=
ng
orders from my master."
"Has he been
aboard since you anchored here?"
"No, sir.&qu=
ot;
"What were y=
our
instructions?"
"To anchor on
this coast and await his coming."
"Well,"
said Mr. Merrick, reflectively, "I believe you can prove our case with=
out
telling the location of Sangoa. An exhibition of the pearls you have brought
ought to convince any reasonable judge. Are there many of them in this
lot?"
"Not so many=
as
usual, sir."
"Are they ve=
ry
choice ones?"
"Not so choi=
ce
as usual, sir."
Uncle John was
greatly disappointed, but Maud exclaimed eagerly:
"Let us see
them, please!"
That was not a
question, but the captain rose at once, bowed and left the cabin. It was so=
me
ten minutes before he returned, followed by two men who bore between them a
heavy bronze chest which they placed upon the cabin floor. Then they left t=
he
room and the captain took a key from his pocket and unlocked a secret panel=
in
the wainscoting of the cabin. A small compartment was disclosed, in which h=
ung
another key on an iron hook. He removed this and with it unlocked the chest,
drawing-from its recesses several trays which he deposited upon the table.
These trays were lined and padded with white velvet and when the covers were
removed, the girls, who had crowded around the table, uttered cries of asto=
nishment
and delight.
"They may no=
t be
as numerous or as choice 'as usual,'" murmured Mrs. Montrose, "but
they are the most amazing lot of pearls I have ever beheld."
"And did all
these come from Sangoa?" Maud asked the captain.
"They repres=
ent
two months' fishing on the coast of our island," he replied; "but=
not
the best two months of the year. The weather was bad; there were many
storms."
"Why, the pe=
arls
that Ajo gave us were insignificant when compared with these!" cried B=
eth.
"This collection must be worth an enormous sum. Uncle John."
Uncle John merely
nodded. He had been thinking, as he studied the pearls, and now turned to
Captain Carg.
"Will you co=
me
ashore and testify before the judge in behalf of your master?"
"Yes, if he =
asks
me to do so."
"And will you
bring these pearls with you?"
"If my master
orders it."
"Very good. =
We
will have him send you instructions."
The captain bowed,
after which he turned to the table and began replacing the trays in the che=
st.
Then he locked it, again hung the key in the secret aperture and closed the
panel. A whistle summoned the two seamen, who bore away the chest, accompan=
ied
by the captain in person.
When they were le=
ft
alone, Maud said anxiously:
"Is there
anything more we can do here?"
"I think
not," replied Mr. Merrick.
"Then let us=
get
back. I want to complete my evidence at once, for no one knows when the jud=
ge
will summon Ajo for examination."
They thanked the
captain when he rejoined them, but he remained as silent and undemonstrativ=
e as
ever, so they took their departure without further ceremony and returned to=
the
shore.
That evening Le
Drieux appeared in the lobby of the hotel and sat himself comfortably down,=
as
if his sole desire in life was to read the evening paper and smoke his
after-dinner cigar. He cast a self-satisfied and rather supercilious glance=
in
the direction of the Merrick party, which on this occasion included the Sta=
ntons
and their aunt, but he made no attempt to approach the corner where they we=
re
seated.
Maud, however, as
soon as she saw Le Drieux, asked Arthur Weldon to interview the man and
endeavor to obtain from him the exact date when Jack Andrews landed in New
York. Uncle John had already wired to Major Doyle, Patsy's father, to get t=
he
steamship lists and find which boat Andrews had come on and the date of its
arrival, but no answer had as yet been received.
Arthur made a pre=
text
of buying a cigar at the counter and then strolled aimlessly about until he
came, as if by chance, near to where Le Drieux was sitting. Making a preten=
se
of suddenly observing the man, he remarked casually:
"Ah, good
evening."
"Good evenin=
g,
Mr. Weldon," replied Le Drieux, a note of ill-suppressed triumph in his
voice.
"I suppose y=
ou
are now content to rest on your laurels, pending the formal examination?&qu=
ot;
said Arthur.
"I am, sir. =
But
the examination is a mere form, you know. I have already cabled the
commissioner of police at Vienna and received a reply stating that the Aust=
rian
ambassador would make a prompt demand for extradition and the papers would =
be
forwarded from Washington to the Austrian consul located in this city. The
consul has also been instructed to render me aid in transporting the prison=
er
to Vienna. All this will require several days' time, so you see we are in no
hurry to conclude the examination."
"I see."
said Arthur. "Is it, then, your intention to accompany the prisoner to
Vienna?"
"Of course. I
have not mentioned the fact to you before, but I hold a commission from the
Chief of Police of Vienna authorizing me to arrest Jack Andrews wherever I =
may
find him, and deliver him up for trial. My firm procured for me this
commission, as they are very anxious to recover the lost pearls."
"Why?" =
"Well, to be
frank, sir, the countess still owes our firm a large sum for purchases. She=
had
almost her entire fortune tied up in that collection, and unless it is
recovered--."
"I can well
appreciate the anxiety of your firm. But aside from that, Mr. Le Drieux, I
suppose a big reward has been offered?"
"Not big; ju=
st a
fair amount. It will repay me, quite handsomely, for my trouble in this aff=
air;
but, of course, my firm gets half of the reward."
"They are not
too generous. You deserve it all."
"Thank you. =
It
has been an interesting episode, Mr. Weldon."
"It has been
more than that. I consider this escapade of Andrews quite a romance; or is =
it
more of a tragedy, in your opinion?"
"It will be a
tragedy for Andrews, before he's through with it," replied Le Drieux
grimly. "They're pretty severe on the long-fingered gentry, over there=
in
Europe, and you must remember that if the fellow lives through the sentence
they will undoubtedly impose upon him in Vienna, he has still to answer for=
the
Paris robbery and the London murder. It's all up with Andrews, I guess; and
it's a good thing, too, for he is too clever to remain at large."
"I do not
consider him so clever as his captor," said Arthur smoothly. "It =
did
not take you long to discover where he had hidden. Why, he has only returne=
d to
America about fifteen months ago."
"Eleven mont=
hs
ago--even less than that, I think," retorted Le Drieux, with much prid=
e.
"Let me see," taking out a notebook, "Andrews landed from the
Princess Irene on the twenty-seventh of January last."
"Oh, the
twenty-seventh? Are you sure of that?" said Arthur.
"Of
course."
"I was under=
the
impression he landed on the twenty-fifth."
"No; you are
wrong. Why, I met the boat myself, but missed him, although he was on the
passenger list. He disembarked very slyly, I afterward learned, being doubt=
less
afraid he would be arrested. But at that time I had no positive evidence
against him."
Arthur asked a few
more questions of no importance and then bade Le Drieux good night and rejo=
ined
the girls.
"You win,
Maud," he remarked as he sat down. "That clew of yours was an ins=
piration.
Andrews arrived in America on January twenty-seventh, just one day after Jo=
nes
had a motion picture of himself taken at the stockholders' meeting of the
Continental Film Company."
"Then we nee=
dn't
worry over Ajo any longer!" asserted Patsy joyfully. "With this
evidence and the testimony of Captain Carg and his pearls, the most stupid
judge on earth would declare the boy innocent. Why, Beth, we shall get our
theatres built, after all!"
"Well, where
have you been?" demanded Goldstein gruffly, as Maud Stanton entered his
office the next morning in response to a summons from the Continental manag=
er.
"What made you run away yesterday? Don't you know such things make us =
lots
of trouble and cost us money?"
"I'm not
worrying about that," replied Maud, as she composedly sat down opposite
the manager.
Goldstein glared =
at
her, but he was cautious.
"You're a fi=
ne
actress, Miss Stanton, and you're popular on the films," he said,
"but if you cannot attend to business we are paying you too much
money."
"Indeed!&quo=
t;
"No other fi=
rm
could afford to give you so much, you know that; and the only reason we are=
so extravagant
is because you are one of our features."
"Am I to take
this as a dismissal?" she asked carelessly.
"Dismissal!&=
quot;
he cried, holding up his hands. "Of course not. Who is talking of
dismissal? But I owe a duty to my firm. Such actions as yours, in running a=
way
from rehearsals, must have a--a--reprimand. Not severe; I am not so angry as
grieved; but a reprimand is your due--and that fly-away sister of yours is =
just
as bad."
"We went to
assist your president--Mr. Jones--to establish his innocence of the awful
charge made against him," she explained.
"Bah. You ca=
n't
do that. No one can save him," he replied, with triumph and satisfacti=
on
mingled in his tone.
She looked at him
thoughtfully.
"You seem
pleased with the idea that he is guilty, Mr. Goldstein."
"I am glad h=
e is
caught. What is Jones to me? An interloper! A boy who gets money, buys stoc=
k,
and then interferes with a business he knows nothing about. You are a
professional, Miss Stanton. You know how we, who are in the game, have won =
our
knowledge of it by long experience, by careful study, by keeping the thousa=
nd
threads of the rope of success twisted tightly together. Any fool could buy
this business, but only an expert could run it successfully. You know that.=
So
I am glad this interfering boy is wiped off the slate forever."
"But he
isn't!" she protested. "You still have this boy to reckon with, G=
oldstein.
When he is examined by the judge he will be set free, for all the evidence =
is
in his favor and there is ample proof that he is not the man they are after.
And that reminds me. There is a negative here that was made at the director=
s'
meeting in January, a year ago, which shows Mr. Jones taking control of the
Continental."
"I have never
seen it," he said, shaking his head.
"It is here,=
though,
and I want a positive printed at once, and mounted on a reel, so it can be
exhibited before the judge. Have Alfred get it out of the vault."
"Why should =
I do
that?" he inquired, frowning.
"Because, if=
you
refuse, Mr. Jones is quite likely to find another manager. No other firm wo=
uld
pay you so much as you are getting here. You know that."
He grinned with
delight at the thrust, then grew solemn.
"You are sur=
e he
will go free?"
"Positive,&q=
uot;
returned Maud. "He doesn't really need that film, but it would be good
policy--excellent policy--for you to produce it."
"Alfred!&quo=
t;
called the manager. "Bring me the stock book."
He ran his finger
down the pages.
"January--eh=
--eh--"
"January
twenty-sixth," she said.
"Here it is:
'Special of Annual Meeting, C.F.M. Co.--280 feet.--No. 19,' Get number nine=
teen
out of the vault, Alfred."
While the young m=
an
was gone he relapsed into thought. Maud waited patiently.
"You see,&qu=
ot;
resumed the manager abruptly, "I am making more money for the Continen=
tal
than I get paid for. That is because I know how. It is not good business to=
cut
down the profits; therefore I should be paid a bigger salary. Miss Stanton,
you're a friend of young Jones, who controls this company. Yon might talk to
him about me."
"I will,&quo=
t;
she said.
"You might s=
ay I
know every trick of the trade. Tell Jones how all the other film makers are
crazy to get me. But say how I refuse more money because I believe our
directors will wake up to my value and raise my salary. That sounds pretty
good, eh?"
"It sounds
remarkable."
"And it's no
dream. Ah, here comes Alfred."
The clerk laid up=
on
the table a round box coated with paraffin to exclude the air. A tag was
attached to the box, describing its contents.
"Number
nineteen. Quite right. Take it to the printing room and tell McDonald to ma=
ke
me a copy as quickly as possible. Tell him to let me know when it's dry and
ready to run."
As the clerk
disappeared Maud said:
"I needn't w=
ait,
I suppose?"
"No. Werner
wants you at the rehearsal of 'The Love of a Princess.' Before you go home
to-night I'll call you in to see the run of number nineteen. Then you may t=
ake
the film to Jones--with my compliments."
At five o'clock, =
when
she was dressing to go home, Maud was summoned to the little "dark
room" where all films are exhibited, trimmed and tested before being s=
ent
out. She took Aunt Jane and Flo with her and they found Goldstein already
waiting and the operator standing by his machine.
The scene was sho=
rt
and not very exciting, although of interest in the present crisis. It showed
the interior of the hall where the stock-holders' meeting was held, and beg=
an
with the assembling of the members. Two or three pompous individuals then
seated themselves facing the others, and the proceedings began. A slim boy =
on a
back bench arose and said something. Panic was at once written on the faces=
of
the former officers. They gesticulated; their lips moved rapidly. The boy,
easily recognized as A. Jones, advanced and displayed a lot of papers, whic=
h were
carefully examined. He then took the president's chair, the former officers
fled in disgust and the throng of stockholders wildly applauded. Then the l=
ight
went out, the machine stopped, and Goldstein opened the door to let in light
and air.
"It was the =
same
kid, all right," he remarked. "I had never seen this film run bef=
ore,
but it shows how Jones called the turn on the old officers in great shape. I
wonder where he got all the money?"
Maud secured his
promise to send an operator to town, to exhibit the film before the judge, =
whenever
he might be required. Then she went to her hotel fully satisfied that she h=
ad
done all in her power to assist A. Jones of Sangoa.
A telegram from M=
ajor
Doyle corroborated Le Drieux's assertion that Jack Andrews had arrived at t=
he
port of New York via the Princess Irene on January twenty-seventh. A report
from Lawyer Colby stated that he was now so thoroughly posted on everything
pertaining to pearls that he could easily confound the expert, Mr. Isidore =
Le
Drieux. There the matter rested for three days, during which the Stanton gi=
rls
continued their work at the studio and Uncle John's nieces busied themselves
enjoying the charms of the ideal Hollywood climate. Then came the news that=
the
judge would call Jones for examination at nine o'clock on Friday morning, t=
he thirteenth.
"Friday, the
thirteenth!" said Patsy with a grimace. "I hope Ajo isn't superst=
itious."
"That
combination proves lucky for some people," replied Arthur, laughing.
"Let us hope that Jones is one of them."
"Of course we
shall all go to see what happens," said Beth, and to this there was no
dissenting voice.
Maud obtained a
letter from Jones to Captain Carg, asking him to be on hand, and this she
dispatched by a safe messenger to the yacht Arabella. She also told Goldste=
in
to have his operator in attendance with the film. Finally, a conference was
called that evening with Mr. Colby, at which the complete program of defense
was carefully rehearsed.
"Really,&quo=
t;
said the lawyer, "there's nothing to this case. It's a regular walkawa=
y,
believe me! I'm almost ashamed to take Mr. Jones' money for conducting a ca=
se
that Miss Stanton has all cut and dried for me. I'll not receive one half t=
he
credit I should had the thing been complicated, or difficult. However, I've
learned so much about pearls that I'm almost tempted to go into the jewelry
business."
Friday morning was
bright and cool--one of those perfect days for which Southern California is
famous. Judge Wilton appeared in court with a tranquil expression upon his =
face
that proved he was in a contented mood. All conditions augured well for the
prisoner.
The prosecution w=
as
represented by two well known attorneys who had brought a dozen witnesses to
support their charge, among them being the Austrian consul. The case opened
with the statement that the prisoner, Jackson Dowd Andrews, alias A. Jones,
while a guest at the villa of the Countess Ahmberg, near Vienna, had stolen
from his hostess a valuable collection of pearls, which he had secretly bro=
ught
to America. Some of the stolen booty the prisoner had disposed of, it was
asserted; a part had been found in his possession at the time of his arrest;
some of the pearls had been mounted by Brock & Co., the Los Angeles
jewelers, at his request, and by him presented to several acquaintances he =
had
recently made but who were innocent of any knowledge of his past history or=
his
misdeeds. Therefore the prosecution demanded that the prisoner be kept in c=
ustody
until the arrival of extradition papers, which were already on the way, and
that on the arrival of these papers Andrews should be turned over to Le Dri=
eux,
a representative of the Vienna police, and by him taken to Austria, the sce=
ne
of his crime, for trial and punishment.
The judge followed
the charge of the prosecution rather indifferently, being already familiar =
with
it. Then he asked if there was any defense.
Colby took the fl=
oor.
He denied that the prisoner was Jackson Dowd Andrews, or that he had ever b=
een
in Vienna. It was a case of mistaken identity. His client's liberty had been
outraged by the stupid blunders of the prosecution. He demanded the immedia=
te
release of the prisoner.
"Have you
evidence to support this plea?" inquired Judge Wilton.
"We have, yo=
ur
honor. But the prosecution must first prove its charge."
The prosecution
promptly responded to the challenge. The photograph of Andrews, taken abroa=
d,
was shown. Two recognized experts in physiognomy declared, after comparison,
that it was undoubtedly the photograph of the prisoner. Then Le Drieux took=
the
stand. He read a newspaper account of the robbery. He produced a list of the
pearls, attested by the countess herself. Each individual pearl was describ=
ed
and its color, weight and value given. Then Le Drieux exhibited the pearls
taken from Jones and, except for the small ones in the brooch which had been
presented to Mrs. Montrose, he checked off every pearl against his list,
weighing them before the judge and describing their color.
During this, Judge
Wilton continually nodded approval. Such evidence was concise and indisputa=
ble,
it seemed. Moreover, the defense readily admitted that the pearls exhibited=
had
all been in Jones' possession.
Then Colby got up=
to
refute the evidence.
"Mr.
Jones," he began, "has--"
"Give the
prisoner's full name," said the judge.
"His full na=
me
is A. Jones."
"What does t=
he
'A' stand for?"
"It is only =
an
initial, your honor. Mr. Jones has no other name."
"Puh! He oug=
ht
to have taken some other name. Names are cheap," sneered the judge.
Colby ignored the
point.
"Mr. Jones i=
s a
resident of Sangoa, where he was born. Until he landed at San Francisco,
fifteen months ago, he had never set foot on any land but that of his native
island."
"Where is
Sangoa?" demanded the judge.
"It is an is=
land
of the South Seas."
"What nation=
ality?"
"It is
independent. It was purchased from Uruguay by Mr. Jones' father many years =
ago,
and now belongs exclusively to his son."
"Your
information is indefinite," snapped the judge.
"I realize t=
hat,
your honor; but my client deems it wise to keep the location of his island a
secret, because he has valuable pearl fisheries on its shores. The pearls
exhibited by the prosecution were all found at Sangoa."
"How do you
account, then, for their checking so accurately against the list of stolen =
pearls?"
"I can make
almost any pearls check with that list, which represents a huge collection =
of
almost every size, weight and color," replied Colby. "To prove th=
is,
I will introduce in evidence Captain Carg of Sangoa, who recently arrived at
Santa Monica Bay with the last proceeds of the pearl fisheries of the
island."
Captain Carg was =
on
hand, with his two sailors guarding the chest. He now produced the trays of
pearls and spread them on the desk before the amazed eyes of the judge. Le
Drieux was astounded, and showed it plainly on his face.
Colby now borrowed
the list, and picking up a pearl from the tray weighed it on Le Drieux's sc=
ales
and then found a parallel to it on the list. This he did with several of the
pearls, chosen at random, until one of Le Drieux's attorneys took the expert
aside and whispered to him. Then Le Drieux's expression changed from chagri=
n to
joy and coming forward he exclaimed:
"Your honor,
this is the collection--the balance of it--which was stolen from the Counte=
ss
Ahmberg!"
The judge looked =
at
him a moment, leaned back in his chair and nodded his head impressively.
"What nonsense!" protested Colby. "These trays contain twice the number= of pearls included in that entire list, as your honor may plainly see." <= o:p>
"Of
course," retorted Le Drieux eagerly; "here are also the pearls fr=
om the
necklace of Princess Lemoine, and the London collection of Lady Grandison. =
Your
honor, in his audacity the defense has furnished us proof positive that this
prisoner can be none other than the adventurer and clever thief, Jack
Andrews."
It was in vain th=
at
Colby declared these pearls had just come from Sangoa, where they were foun=
d.
The judge cut him short and asked if he had any other evidence to advance. =
"These
pearls," he added, indicating the trays, "I shall take possession=
of.
They must remain in my custody until their owners claim them, or Captain Ca=
rg
can prove they are the lawful property of the prisoner."
Consternation now
pervaded the ranks of the defense. The girls were absolutely dismayed, while
Uncle John and Arthur Weldon wore bewildered looks. Only Jones remained
composed, an amused smile curling the corners of his delicate mouth as he e=
yed
the judge who was to decide his fate.
On the side of the
prosecution were looks of triumph. Le Drieux already regarded his case as w=
on.
Colby now played =
his
trump card, which Maud Stanton's logic and energy had supplied the defense.=
"The
prosecution," said he, "has stated that the alleged robbery was c=
ommitted
at Vienna on the evening of September fifteenth, and that Jack Andrews arri=
ved
in America on the steamship Princess Irene on the afternoon of the January
twenty-seventh following. Am I correct in those dates?"
The judge consult=
ed
his stenographer.
"The dates
mentioned are correct," he said pompously.
"Here are the
papers issued by the Commander of the Port of San Francisco, proving that t=
he
yacht Arabella of Sangoa anchored in that harbor on October twelfth, and
disembarked one passenger, namely: A. Jones of Sangoa."
"That might,=
or
might not, have been the prisoner," declared the prosecuting attorney.=
"True,"
said the judge. "The name 'A. Jones' is neither distinguished nor dist=
inguishing."
"On the even=
ing
of January twenty-sixth, twenty-four hours before Jack Andrews landed in Am=
erica,"
continued Colby, "the prisoner, Mr. A. Jones, appeared at the annual
meeting of the stockholders of the Continental Film Manufacturing Company, =
in
New York, and was formally elected president of that organization."
"What is your
proof?" inquired the judge, stifling a yawn.
"I beg to su=
bmit
the minutes of the meeting, attested by its secretary."
The judge glanced=
at
the minutes.
"We object to
this evidence," said the opposing attorney. "There is no proof th=
at
the A. Jones referred to is the prisoner."
"The
minutes," said Colby, "state that a motion picture was taken of t=
he meeting.
I have the film here, in this room, and beg permission to exhibit it before
your honor as evidence."
The judge was a b=
it
startled at so novel a suggestion but assented with a nod. In a twinkling t=
he
operator had suspended a roller-screen from the chandelier dependent from t=
he
ceiling, pulled down the window shades and attached his projecting machine =
to
an electric-light socket.
Then the picture
flashed upon the screen. It was not entirely distinct, because the room cou=
ld
not be fully darkened and the current was not strong, yet every face in the
gathering of stockholders could be plainly recognized. Jones, especially, as
the central figure, could not be mistaken and no one who looked upon the
picture could doubt his identity.
When the exhibiti=
on
was concluded and the room again lightened, Le Drieux's face was visibly
perturbed and anxious, while his attorneys sat glum and disconcerted.
Colby now put
Goldstein on the stand, who testified that he recognized Jones as president=
of
his company and the owner of the majority of stock. The young man had come =
to
him with unimpeachable credentials to that effect.
The girls were now
smiling and cheerful. To them the defense was absolutely convincing. But Le
Drieux's attorneys were skillful fighters and did not relish defeat. They
advanced the theory that the motion picture, just shown, had been made at a
later dale and substituted for the one mentioned in the minutes of the meet=
ing.
They questioned Goldstein, who admitted that he had never seen Jones until a
few days previous. The manager denied, however, any substitution of the
picture. He was not a very satisfactory witness for the defense and Colby w=
as sorry
he had summoned him.
As for the judge,=
he
seemed to accept the idea of the substitution with alacrity. He had practic=
ally
decided against Jones in the matter of the pearls. Now he listened carefull=
y to
the arguments of the prosecution and cut Colby short when he raised objecti=
ons
to their sophistry.
Finally Judge Wil=
ton
rose to state his decision.
"The evidence
submitted in proof of the alleged fact that the prisoner is Jack Andrews, a=
nd
that Jack Andrews may have robbed the Countess Ahmberg, of Vienna, of her
valuable collection of pearls, is in the judgment of this court clear and
convincing," he said. "The lawyer for the defense has further
succeeded in entangling his client by exhibiting an additional assortment of
pearls, which may likewise be stolen property. The attempt to impose upon t=
his
court a mythical island called Sangoa is--eh--distinctly reprehensible. This
court is not so easily hoodwinked. Therefore, in consideration of the evide=
nce
advanced, I declare that the prisoner is Jack Andrews, otherwise Jackson Do=
wd Andrews,
otherwise parading under the alias of 'A. Jones,' and I recognize the claim=
of
the Austrian police to his person, that he may be legally tried for his all=
eged
crimes in the territory where it is alleged he committed them. Therefore I
order that the prisoner be held for requisition and turned over to the prop=
er
authorities when the papers arrive. The court is adjourned."
Of course not one=
of
our friends agreed with the judge. Indignation and resentment were written =
on
every face--except that of Goldstein. The manager rubbed his hands softly
together and, approaching Maud, he whispered:
"You needn't
speak to Jones about me. It's all right. I guess he won't be interfering wi=
th
me any more, eh? And come early to-morrow morning. We've got a lot of
rehearsing to do. To-day I will call a holiday for you. And, believe me, Mi=
ss
Stanton, this is nothing to worry any of us. The judge settles it, right or
wrong, for the law defies us all."
As the manager
hurried away Uncle John looked after him and said:
"I wonder if=
he
realizes how true his words are? 'The law defies us all.' How helpless we a=
re
to oppose injustice and oppression when one man, with a man's limitations a=
nd
prejudices, is clothed with authority to condemn us!"
Colby stood silen=
t.
The poor fellow's eyes were full of unshed tears.
"This is my
first case, and my last," said he. "I won it honestly. It was the
judge, not the evidence, that defeated me. I'm going to rent my office and
apply for a job as a chauffeur."
Jones was the lea=
st
affected of the group. "Never mind, friends," he said to them,
"it will all come right in the end. If you will stand by me, Colby, I'=
ll
retain you to plead my case in the Austrian court, or at least advise my
Austrian lawyers. I've an idea they will treat me fairly, over there in
Vienna."
"It's
outrageous!" quoth indignant Patsy Doyle. "I'd like to give that =
judge
a piece of my mind."
"If you
did," replied Arthur, "he'd fine you for contempt."
"It would be=
a
just line, in that case," said Patsy; "so I'm sure he wouldn't do
it."
The jailer had co=
me
to take the prisoner back to his cell. He smiled whimsically at Miss Doyle's
speech and remarked:
"There's alw=
ays
one side to kick, Miss, whichever way the judge decides. It was only Solomon
who could satisfy everybody."
"Clear the
room!" shouted the bailiff.
Captain Carg's men
took the empty chest back to the launch. The captain followed them, after
pressing the hand of his young master, who said: "Wait for orders,
Captain." Uncle John took his flock back to the hotel, where they gath=
ered
in his room and held an indignation meeting. Here it was safe to give full =
vent
to their chagrin and disappointment.
"Every bit of
honest evidence was on our side," declared Maud. "I shall never be
able to understand why we lost."
"Bribery and
corruption," said Flo. "I'll bet a cookie Le Drieux divided the
reward with the judge."
"I suppose i=
t's
all up with Ajo now," sighed Beth, regretfully.
"Yes,"
replied Colby, who had accompanied them; "there is nothing more to be =
done
for him at present. From the judge's order there is no appeal, in such a ca=
se.
Mr. Jones must go to Vienna for trial; but there he may secure an
acquittal."
"He is very
brave, I think," said Patsy. "This affair must have hurt his prid=
e,
but he smiles through it all. In his condition of health, the confinement a=
nd
humiliation may well shorten his life, yet he has made no murmur."
"He's good
stuff, that boy," commented Uncle John. "Perhaps it is due to that
John Paul blood his father was so proud of."
When Arthur went =
into
the lobby a little later he found Le Drieux seated comfortably and smoking a
long cigar. The pearl expert nodded to the young ranchman with so much evid=
ent
satisfaction that Arthur could not resist engaging him in conversation.
"Well, you
won," he remarked, taking a vacant chair beside Le Drieux.
"Yes, of
course," was the reply; "but I'll admit that fellow Andrews is a =
smooth
one. Why, at one time he had even me puzzled with his alibis and his eviden=
ce.
That flash of the pearls was the cleverest trick I ever heard of; but it di=
dn't
go, I'd warned the judge to look out for a scoop. He knew he was dealing wi=
th
one of the most slippery rogues in captivity."
"See here, Le
Drieux," said Arthur; "let us be honest with one another, now that
the thing is settled and diplomacy is uncalled for. Do you really believe t=
hat
Jones is Jack Andrews?"
"Me? I know =
it,
Mr. Weldon. I don't pose as a detective, but I'm considered to have a shrewd
insight into human character, and from the first moment I set eyes on him I=
was
positive that Jones was the famous Jack Andrews. I can understand how you
people, generous and trusting, have been deceived in the fellow; I admire t=
he
grit you've all shown in standing by him to the last. I haven't a particle =
of
malice toward any one of you, I assure you--not even toward Andrews
himself."
"Then why ha=
ve
you bounded him so persistently?"
"For two
reasons." said Le Drieux. "As a noted pearl expert, I wanted to p=
rove
my ability to run down the thief; and, as a man in modest circumstances, I
wanted the reward."
"How much wi=
ll
you get?"
"All togethe=
r,
the rewards aggregate twenty thousand dollars. I'll get half, and my firm w=
ill
get half."
"I think,&qu=
ot;
said Arthur, to test the man, "that Jones would have paid you double t=
hat
amount to let him alone."
Le Drieux shook h=
is
head; then he smiled.
"I don't mind
telling you, Mr. Weldon--in strict confidence, of course--that I approached
Jones on that very subject, the day he was placed in jail. He must have been
sure his tricks would clear him, for he refused to give me a single penny. I
imagine he is very sorry, right now; don't you, sir?"
"No," s=
aid
Arthur, "I don't. I still believe in his innocence."
Le Drieux stared =
at
him incredulously.
"What, after
that examination of to-day?" he demanded.
"Before and
after. There was no justice in the decision of Judge Wilton; he was unduly
prejudiced."
"Be careful,
sir!"
"We are talk=
ing
confidentially."
"To be sure.=
But
you astonish me. I understand the character of Andrews so thoroughly that I
fail to comprehend how any sensible person can believe in him. Talk about
prejudice!"
"I suppose y= ou are to remain at this hotel?" said Arthur, evading further argument. <= o:p>
"Yes, until =
the
papers arrive. They ought to be here by Monday. Then I shall take Andrews to
New York and we will board the first steamer for Europe."
Arthur left him. =
Le
Drieux puzzled him more than he puzzled Le Drieux. The expert seemed sincer=
e in
the belief that he had trapped, in Jones, a noted criminal. Weldon could not
help wondering, as he walked away, if possibly he and his friends had been
deceived in A. Jones of Sangoa. The doubt was but momentary, yet it had for=
ced
itself into his mind.
On Saturday after= noon they all made a visit to the prisoner and tried to cheer him. Again on Sund= ay they called--the Stantons and Merricks and Weldons and all. Young Jones received them with composure and begged them not to worry on his account. <= o:p>
"I am quite
comfortable in this jail, I assure you," said he. "On my journey =
to
Vienna I shall be able to bribe Le Drieux to let me have such comforts as I
desire. There is but one experience I shrink from: the passage across the
Atlantic. If it brings a return of my former malady I shall suffer
terribly."
"It may not =
be
so bad as you fear," Patsy assured him, although in her heart she real=
ized
it might be the death of the boy. "Often those who are distressed by a
voyage on the Pacific endure the Atlantic very well."
"That is
encouraging," said he. "It is my dread of the water that has prev=
ented
me from returning to Sangoa, or even visiting my yacht. And this reminds me=
of
a favor I wish to ask."
"You may rely
upon our friendship," said Maud.
"I believe t=
hat.
Here is a letter to Captain Carg, putting the Arabella at your disposal unt=
il
my return from Vienna. I have named Mr. Merrick as the commander of the yac=
ht,
in my absence, and if you feel inclined to make the trip and can spare the =
time
I would like you all to make a voyage to Sangoa."
"To
Sangoa!" they cried in chorus.
"Yes. I am
ambitious to prove to you, who have been my staunch friends, that the islan=
d is
indeed there. Incidentally you will become acquainted with the prettiest pl=
ace
in all the world. My house will be at your disposal while you remain and I =
am
sure you will find it fairly comfortable."
They were so amaz=
ed
at this proposition that at first no one found words to answer the boy. It =
was
Flo, naturally, who first collected her thoughts.
"It will be
awfully jolly!" she cried, clapping her hands with delight. "I'm =
sure
Maud and I need a vacation. Let's stick up our noses at Goldstein and sail =
away
to the mysterious isle. What do you say, girls? And you, Mr. Merrick?"=
"I believe, =
my
boy," said Uncle John, laying a kindly hand on the youth's shoulder,
"that all of us are inclined to take advantage of your offer. That is,=
if
you are sure we can be of no further use to you in your difficulties."=
"I am taking
Colby abroad with me and he can do all that may be done until after my tria=
l.
Then I hope to rejoin you here and am looking forward to a jolly reunion.&q=
uot;
Uncle John took t=
he
letters which Ajo had written to Captain Carg, to his superintendent in San=
goa
and to his housekeeper. Then they all pressed the boy's hand and went away.=
*
Monday morning the
extradition papers arrived. Le Drieux exhibited them proudly to young Weldo=
n,
to Mr. Merrick, and even to the girls, who regarded the documents with
shuddering awe.
"We'll take =
the
night train," said the man. "That will get us to New York on Frid=
ay,
in time to catch the Saturday steamer for Calais."
As he spoke a boy
approached and handed Le Drieux a telegram.
"Excuse
me," said he, and opened it with an important flourish. The next moment
his face fell. He staggered and sank half fainting into a chair which Mr.
Merrick pushed toward him.
Patsy ran for some
water. Maud Stanton fanned the man with a folded newspaper. Arthur Weldon
picked up the telegram which had fluttered from Le Drieux's grasp and
deliberately read it. Then he, too, sank gasping into a chair.
"Listen,
girls!" he cried, his voice shrill with emotion. "What do you thi=
nk
of this?
"'Jack Andre=
ws
arrested here in New York to-day by Burns detectives. Countess Ahmberg's
collection of pearls was found in his possession, intact. Return here first
train.'
"Signed:
'Eckstrom & Co.'"
There was a momen=
t of
tense silence.
Flo clapped her
hands.
"Come on,&qu=
ot;
she shouted in glee, "let's go and tell Ajo!"