Ahead of the Show Part 12

The deputy sheriff read: "See the New York Comedy Company, Augustus Wattles, Manager.

"See this great company in 'Loved and Lost.'

"See the real locomotive, under a full head of steam.

"See the real steam yacht.

"See all this.

"But-- "Please don't look at the queer old man in the third row of the orchestra."

The deputy laid the paper down and glared at his prisoner with a triumphant air.

"Well?" said Al, greatly puzzled.

"Didn't you write that and cause it to be inserted in the Bugle?"

"I did."

"That settles it, then."

"It may settle it for you, but it doesn't for me," said the boy. "What is the matter with the ad.?"

"You know well enough what the matter is with it."

"I do not. Is it a crime in this town to try to boom a show by any legitimate means?"

"No; but it is a crime to try to boom it the way you have; it is a crime here and everywhere else, as you will find out if you try the same game again in another town."

Here Miss March, who had listened in silence until this moment, interposed.

"What is the matter, sir?" she cried. "I read the advertis.e.m.e.nt, and I am sure there was nothing in it that could offend anyone."

The deputy, who until now had forgotten or neglected to doff his hat, did so.

"As far as you see, miss," he said, "the ad. is all right."

"Well, what is there--what can there be--that I do not see?" the young lady cried.

"You are not acquainted in this town, are you, young lady?" the deputy asked.

"I am not."

"That accounts for it, then. But this young fellow is acquainted here, and he knew just what he was doing when he wrote that advertis.e.m.e.nt."

"Yes, I think I did," interposed Al, "But will you please tell me right now why you are here?"

"I am here in my capacity of deputy sheriff of this county," replied the official, with dignity, "and also as a personal friend of Mr. Marmaduke Merry."

"Mr. Marmaduke Merry!" exclaimed Al.

"Yes. No wonder you start and turn pale at the mere mention of that name."

"But I did not start or turn pale. Who is Mr. Marmaduke Merry?"

"You pretend not to know?"

"I pretend nothing at all; I do not know. I never heard the name of Marmaduke Merry before in my life."

"This subterfuge will avail you nothing," said the deputy, who was becoming theatrical. "We know all."

"All what?"

Al could not help laughing, and this evidently angered the overzealous deputy.

"I am not here to bandy words with you, young man," he said; "I have already spent too much time in talk."

"That's what I think," smiled Al.

"I'm glad we agree upon that point. Come along."

"I am ready."

"One moment," interposed Miss March. "Won't you please tell me, sir, of what crime Mr. Allston is accused?"

"I will," the deputy replied, with a look that was very evidently intended to be languis.h.i.+ng. "I can refuse you nothing, miss. He is accused of holding one of Rockton's most respected citizens up to public ridicule; and Mr. Marmaduke Merry is the man."

"But," interrupted Al, more bewildered than ever, "haven't I told you that I never heard of this man, Merry, before?"

"You have told me so--yes."

"Well, I told the truth."

"You will have to convince the court of that."

"But what has my ad. to do with Mr. Merry? His name is not mentioned in it."

"Ah, that is where your cunning comes in. But doesn't everyone in Rockton know that for years and years Mr. Merry has always occupied a seat in the third row of the orchestra at the first performance of a new play?"

At last Al grasped the situation.

"Oh!" he exclaimed, "that's what you mean?"

"That is what I mean."

"And you think I meant Mr. Merry when I referred to the 'queer old man'?"

"Of course I do, and so does Mr. Merry."

"Both of you are very much mistaken."

"For your own sake, I hope you will be able to prove that statement."

"Why, I never heard of Mr. Merry until you mentioned his name."

"You have said so several times since I have been here, but I do not believe you. However, I am not your judge. But if you did not mean Mr. Merry, whom did you mean?"

"n.o.body at all; the old man was only a creation of my imagination."

The deputy coughed, and had the audacity to wink knowingly at Miss March.

"This is a great tale," he said, "and will be believed, I don't think. You have got yourself and the local management into a sc.r.a.pe, my lad. But what could be expected?"

At this moment there was a tap upon the door. "Come in," the actress cried.

A servant entered.

"A card for you, Miss March."

The young lady took the bit of pasteboard and glanced at it; then she exclaimed: "Mr. Marmaduke Merry!"

"Mr. Marmaduke Merry!" echoed the deputy.

"Show him up, please," the actress said.

CHAPTER XIX.

A STARTLING ACKNOWLEDGMENT.

"He is here!"

With this theatrical exclamation, a man pushed his way past the servant and entered the room.

"I am Mr. Marmaduke Merry," he announced.

Both Al and Miss March gazed with considerable curiosity and interest at the visitor.

He was at least seventy years of age, but was dressed in the most youthful fas.h.i.+on, and wore a light blond wig. Much below the medium height, shrunken, shriveled and weazened, he presented a decidedly ludicrous appearance as he stood, a huge bouquet in hand, bowing and smiling at the young actress.

Miss March could not help smiling herself; this evidently encouraged the old gentleman.

"You pardon the liberty I have taken, then?" he said. "I was sure you would."

"What is your business with me, sir?" the girl asked, composing her features.

"It is to offer a tribute to your art and beauty," replied Mr. Merry, with a smirk. "But"--for the first time seeing the deputy and Al--"who are these persons?"

"Don't you know me, Mr. Merry?" asked the official.

"Why, bless my soul!" e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed the old man, adjusting his gla.s.ses, "it's Bullfinch!"

"Yes, sir; it's me."

"What are you doing here in Miss March's apartment?"

"Attending to business, sir."

"What business?"

And the old man glared suspiciously at the cringing deputy.

"Your business, Mr. Merry."

"I didn't send you here."

"You sent me to find the writer of that infamous advertis.e.m.e.nt in the Bugle, didn't you, sir?"

"Yes."

"Well, I have found him."

"Where is he? Who is he?"

"There he stands."

And Mr. Bullfinch pointed triumphantly at Al.

"That boy?" gasped the old man.

"Yes, sir."

"You must be mistaken."

"I am not. I went to the office of the Bugle and asked who wrote the advertis.e.m.e.nt. They told me it was the advance agent of the company, a young man named Allston. I tracked him to this place, and was about to drag him forth when you arrived."

"You talk like a fool, Bullfinch," snapped Mr. Merry.

"Sir, I----"

"That will do. If this is the person who is responsible for that advertis.e.m.e.nt take him away."