LARRY SCENTS A MYSTERY
“Madame Androletti craves the indulgence of the audience for but a few
moments. She is indisposed, but will resume her singing directly.”
Thus announced her manager, a few minutes after the fall of the
curtain, when the orchestra had been quieted by his upraised hand.
Applause followed his little address.
“Oh, I’m so glad it didn’t amount to anything,” said Miss Mason to
Larry. “She is such a beautiful singer that I shouldn’t want to miss
hearing her. And I might never get the opportunity again. Isn’t it nice
that it isn’t really anything?”
“Yes,” assented Larry, but he was far from feeling that it amounted to
nothing. The young reporter was doing some hard thinking.
“There may be a big thing back of this, and again it may amount to
nothing,” he reasoned with himself. “I’m inclined to think, though,
that there’s something doing. Now how am I to set about getting it?
“I guess I’ll sit tight for a while and see what develops. If I go to
making inquiries now some of the other newspapermen will get ‘wise,’
and I’ll lose any chances of a ‘beat,’ if there’s one in it. I’ll saw
wood for a while.”
The orchestra resumed the playing of a spirited air, and while the
audience is waiting for the singer to recover, I will take this chance
to tell you, my new readers, something more about Larry Dexter, the
young reporter.
Larry had come to New York some years before, a farm boy, with
an ambition to become a newspaper man. In the first book of this
series, entitled “From Office Boy to Reporter; or, The First Step in
Journalism,” I told how Larry accomplished this, but not without hard
work, and he was in no little danger, because of the mean actions of
Peter Manton, a rival copy boy on another paper, the _Scorcher_. But
Larry won out.
In the second book, entitled “Larry Dexter, the Young Reporter,” an
account is given of Larry’s “assignments,” or the particular pieces of
newspaper work set aside for him. Some of them were very strange, and
not a few of them dangerous. Larry had a number of startling adventures
in getting big “beats,” or exclusive pieces of news.
His mother, with whom Larry lived, was often worried about him, but
Larry had to support her, as well as his sisters, Mary and Lucy, and
his little brother James, so he did not give up because his work was
hard.
Deserved success came to Larry, and he made considerable money, for he
discovered deeds to some land that his mother had a right to, but which
was being kept from her, and he managed to get possession of the real
estate.
Larry came into real prominence in the newspaper world when he made his
successful search for Mr. Hampton Potter, the millionaire, as related
in the book called “Larry Dexter’s Great Search.”
In that volume are given the details of why Mr. Potter disappeared, and
how the young reporter found him, after a long hunt, in which he ran
many dangers. During the time he worked on this case Larry and Miss
Grace Potter, the millionaire’s daughter, became good friends.
When the Consolidated National Bank was robbed of a million dollars one
day, all Wall Street was astounded. An endeavor was made to keep the
robbery secret for a time, but Larry, with the help of Mr. Potter, got
the story and secured a “scoop,” or “beat.”
Then he began to solve the bank mystery, for it was a mystery as to
where the million had gone. In the volume entitled “Larry Dexter and
the Bank Mystery,” I give the details of how our hero solved the
mystery, got back the million, and secured the arrest of the thief.
He did not do this easily, however, and for a long time he was on the
wrong “trail.”
The solving of this mystery added further to Larry’s fame, and he was
more than ever the “star,” or chief reporter, on the _Leader_, where he
had first obtained his start in journalism, and where he preferred to
remain, though other papers made him handsome offers.
And now Larry was covering an ordinary concert to oblige a fellow
scribe.
“But, unless I’m greatly mistaken,” mused Larry, as the orchestra
played on, “this is going to be something more than an ordinary
concert. Of course all the other papers will have the story about
Madame Androletti fainting in the middle of her song, but I don’t
believe they’ll find out why she did.
“I believe it was because she saw that man, though why the sight of
him should affect her so is a mystery. That’s where I’ve got to begin;
at that man with the foreign decoration. I don’t believe many people
noticed him staring at her under the curtain. They were all too intent
on the singer herself.”
Larry was doing some hard thinking.
“Oh, isn’t that wonderful--that music?” whispered Miss Mason to him.
“What’s that? Oh, yes, it’s fine!” answered Larry dreamily.
“I don’t believe you even heard it,” she went on, as the wonderful
melody rose and fell. “You act just as you did lots of times when you
came to see me the time you were working on the bank mystery.”
“Well, I feel almost that same way,” spoke Larry with a smile.
“Do you mean to say there’s a mystery here, Larry Dexter?” she asked in
a tense whisper. “If there is----”
“Hush,” begged Larry, as the orchestral number came to an end. “Let’s
see if she comes out now. I’ll tell you about it later. I may need your
help.”
“Oh, fine!” she whispered, with sparkling eyes.
As I have said, Molly Mason had aided Larry in solving the bank
mystery, for it was of her that the thief had purchased the valise
which he used to hold the million dollars, and Molly gave Larry a
valuable clew.
The final chords of the music died away, and there was a hush of
expectancy. Would the noted singer be able to go on? Or was her
indisposition too much to allow her to do so? Every one waited
anxiously for some announcement from behind that big curtain. And Larry
looked eagerly toward the stage.
He had made up his mind that he would try to see Madame Androletti
after the concert, and ask her what had frightened her. True, she might
not tell him, but Larry was too good a newspaperman to mind a refusal.
And he had his own way of getting news.
The young reporter looked about the hall. He wanted to see if the big
man, with the foreign decoration, was again present. But, if he was,
our hero failed to get a glimpse of him. Nor could he see the two more
ordinarily dressed men who had answered the man’s signal.
“Well, this looks as if something was doing,” said Larry to himself,
as there was a movement behind the curtain. A murmur ran through the
audience as the manager again stepped before the footlights.
“Oh, I do hope she can sing,” whispered Miss Mason. “I wouldn’t miss
it for anything! Oh, what a strain public performers must be under, to
have to appear when they are not able.”
“It’s part of the game,” murmured Larry, narrowly watching the manager.
The latter began to speak.
“I am glad to be able to inform you,” he said, “that Madame Androletti
has somewhat recovered from her indisposition, and will be able to
continue. She craves your indulgence, however, if she is not just
exactly in voice, but she will do her best.”
Applause interrupted him.
“Madame Androletti will omit the number she was singing when she
fainted,” the conductor went on, “as it might have a bad effect on
her nerves. She will substitute another,” and he named it, Larry
making a note for the benefit of the musical critic whose place he was
temporarily filling.
The manager bowed, there was more applause, and then the singer herself
appeared. The applause burst out into a great volume of sound, for
the audience recognized the pluck it took to come back when physically
indisposed, and they appreciated what Madame Androletti was doing.
She bowed and smiled, and signaled for the orchestra to begin.
As the first notes of the accompaniment music burst out Larry noticed
that the singer cast a glance around the big hall, and even up into the
galleries.
“She’s looking for that man,” thought the young reporter. “What strange
influence has he over her? What’s the mystery I’m just on the edge of,
I wonder?”
Madame Androletti began to sing, and as the first few notes rippled
out she cast a quick glance into the wings. Few noticed it, but Larry
did, and as his eyes followed hers he saw a boy, of about ten years
of age, standing behind a representation of a tree trunk, part of
the stage-setting. He was a boy with dark, curling hair, an Italian,
evidently, as was the singer. Larry at once jumped to a conclusion.
“That’s Madame Androletti’s boy!” he thought, and the look of love that
was on the singer’s face as she glanced toward the youngster seemed to
confirm this.
“By Jove! I believe I’m on the track!” thought Larry Dexter, as he saw
the boy move out of sight.