Ahead of the Show Part 11

"I wish it was," groaned Al.

"Eh?"

The boy expressed his opinion of the interview in very emphatic terms.

"Well," said Mr. Wattles, when he had finished, "you're 'way off in your ideas on that point. Why, the interview is great. I supposed you had taken the reporter out and got him full."

"The interview didn't cost me a cent."

"That's so much the better. I'm mighty glad it appeared, and you ought to be, too. It'll help biz; and how do you know but that through it you may find your sister?"

"That's not possible," said Al. "Why, the facts are all distorted. My father never had any palatial country seat in Tarrytown; there was never any talk of a rejected suitor of my mother's; there----"

"Never mind," interrupted Mr. Wattles; "it's a good ad., anyway, and we got it for nothing. You mustn't be so thin-skinned, my boy. You see here"--in a changed tone--"that ad. of yours in the Bugle must have cost a young fortune. You ought to have consulted me by wire before you did that. The idea is a good one, and everyone is talking about it, but it will not be worth to us what it cost."

"How much do you suppose I paid for it, sir?"

"Oh, I don't know; three hundred at least, probably more."

"It cost just fifty dollars; and if it is not worth that to you, I'll pay it out of my own pocket."

"Fif---- Is that straight?"

"Certainly."

"How did you do it?"

Al explained.

"Well, that was a mighty good transaction, and you deserve credit for it, as well as for writing the ad. The new paper was selling like hot cakes on the train this morning, and everyone was reading that ad. Al, my boy, you're a genius!"

"Not quite that, I guess," laughed the boy.

"You are, I tell you. But who is the queer old man in the third row of the orchestra?"

"A myth, a creation of my imagination."

"I supposed so, though I did not know but you had hired some one to play the part."

"No."

"Well, there'll be lots of people out to see the old man. How did you happen to strike the idea?"

"I don't know. I had to get the copy ready in a hurry, and I wanted something new and taking."

"Well, you got it. I believe that ad. and the interview are going to produce results."

They did; though some of the results were quite different from those Mr. Wattles and his advance agent expected.

While Al went into the restaurant for breakfast, his employer hurried to the theater to inquire about the advance sale.

He returned an hour later, flushed and excited.

"Well?" questioned the boy.

"Well, we've caught 'em again. Half the house is already sold, and that means a crowd to-night. The local manager says you're a corker."

Al laughed.

"He didn't think so yesterday."

"He does now. He's going to try to get you to stay here under his employ."

"I shall not do it."

"I told him you wouldn't, but he's going to make you an offer, anyhow. Oh, by the way!"

"What is it, sir?"

"I nearly forgot that Miss Gladys March, who, with the rest of the company, came with me this morning, is very anxious to have a talk with you."

"With me? Aren't you mistaken, Mr. Wattles?"

"No; she asked me to tell you as soon as I saw you, but I did not think of it."

"What can she want of me?"

"I give it up."

"I don't know her; I never spoke to her in my life."

"So I thought. Well, the best way to find out what she wants is to go and ask her. You'll find her upstairs in her room."

"I'll go at once."

A few minutes later Al presented himself at the door of Miss March's room and knocked rather timidly.

"Come in," said a sweet voice, which the boy recognized as that of the young actress.

He entered the room.

Miss March, who was seated by the window, rose to meet him.

"I supposed that it was one of the servants," she said, with a sweet smile, "or I should have welcomed you at the door. Please be seated."

The young girl's perfect self-possession embarra.s.sed Al a little. He stammered out something about its being of no consequence, and seated himself on the extreme edge of the sofa.

Certainly Miss March was a very beautiful girl; unlike many actresses, she looked prettier off the stage than on it.

"I suppose," she began, "that you wonder why I have requested the favor of this interview."

"I am a little curious to know," Al admitted.

"When I have told you, I suppose you will think me a very foolish girl; probably I am. But I cannot leave a stone unturned."

She paused, evidently agitated. What new mystery was this? Al asked himself.

"I have read the interview with you in this morning's Rockton Banner," went on the young lady.

"I'm sorry to hear that," said the boy, bluntly.

"Why?"

"Because there are scarcely ten words of truth in it."

A genuine look of disappointment appeared upon Miss March's face.

"I am very sorry to hear you say that," she said.

Al stared at her in surprise.

"You surely did not believe all that stuff, Miss March?"

"Not all of it, of course," replied the girl, with a faint smile; "but there was one part that I thought might be true."

"What part?"

"About your sister, who was stolen in infancy."

"It is true," said Al, "that my sister was stolen."

"Ah!" interrupted the young lady, with an appearance of agitation that the boy could not understand.

"But the facts were so twisted and distorted that the story is very different from the truth."

"What is the truth?"

Al hesitated.

"Believe me," said Miss March, "I do not ask from mere idle curiosity. I have a most important reason for putting the question. Will you not tell me the story?"

Her agitation communicated itself to her companion; the boy's voice trembled slightly as he replied: "Certainly, Miss March; for I feel that you have some strong motive for desiring to hear it."

"Believe me, I have. Go on, I beg of you."

Al was about to speak when the door was thrown open and a rough-looking man strode into the room.

"I thought I should find you here," he said, addressing our hero.

"Who are you, and what do you want?" demanded the boy.

"I'm a deputy sheriff, and I want you. I have a warrant for your arrest."

CHAPTER XVIII.

MR. MARMADUKE MERRY.

"A warrant for my arrest?" gasped Al, half believing that the sudden appearance of the stranger was only a joke.

"That's what I said. Now, young fellow, don't you try to resist me, for it won't work."

"I'm not going to resist you if you really have a warrant," said Al.

"Well, I have, and here it is."

And the stranger produced a doc.u.ment from his pocket.

"What am I accused of?" asked the boy.

The deputy, who evidently felt the importance of his position, produced a copy of the first number of the Rockton Bugle from his pocket.

Slowly unfolding it, he turned to Al's full-page advertis.e.m.e.nt, and said: "You writ that, didn't you?"

"I did," admitted our hero, promptly.

"Well, that settles it. Come along."

"But hold on," laughed Al. "It isn't a crime in these parts to advertise a theatrical performance, is it?"

"Yes," replied the deputy, without hesitation, "it is--the way you advertise."

"What is the matter with my advertis.e.m.e.nt?" asked the astonished boy.

"You don't know, eh?"

"I certainly do not."

"Well, of course my business here is only to serve the warrant, but I'll read the advertis.e.m.e.nt over to you."

"Go ahead," said Al, thinking that there might be a misprint in the page.