DISHEARTENING NEWS
For a moment it seemed to Ruth as though her heart sank down into the
toes of her shoes.
Sol Bloomberg in Alaska! And they were going there! Instead of
leaving him farther and farther behind with every mile they had
traversed, as she had fondly hoped, their journey was taking them
steadily nearer to a possible meeting with him, with the man who had
vowed “to get even with her if it took him the rest of his life!”
Ruth turned on impulse to face the two speakers. She had thought she
recognized the voices, and now she saw that she was right.
They were two minor actors of the company. While not taking any
important part, they were, nevertheless, practically invaluable to
the company because of their ability to “fit in” at odd and sometimes
critical moments.
They were pleasant lads, both of them, and by name, Todd and Downey.
Now Ruth turned to them eagerly.
“What was that you said about Bloomberg?” she asked, doing her best
to make the tone of the question sound casual. “I couldn’t help
overhearing——”
The taller of the two lads, Todd, smiled pleasantly.
“I was just saying that it would be a good joke if we were to run
into Bloomberg in Alaska,” he repeated obligingly. “I heard that he
had gone somewhere up the Yukon to run a gambling place.”
“Just about the sort of thing you might expect Bloomberg to do,” said
Tom, with a grimace of distaste.
“He was a gambler, you know, before he turned to the motion picture
game,” said Todd. “I suppose now that he is down and out in his
chosen profession, he’s gone back to his old trade.”
“Probably hopes to make a lot of money quick and retrieve his
fortunes,” hazarded Tom.
“H’m!” said Ruth absently. “I hadn’t heard!” She thereupon fell into
a deep study from which Tom found it impossible to arouse her for
some time.
Bloomberg in Alaska running a gambling place! That was why Charlie
Reid had been in New York to spy upon her and not Bloomberg himself.
Again the old questions came to torment her.
Had that been Charlie Reid she and Helen had seen on the station
platform? Was that Reid in the lobby of the Tevor-Grand Hotel?
If so, then there was the probability that the stealthy trailer
would not leave them there. The chances were—and at the thought Ruth
looked about her at the chattering excited crowds uneasily—he might
be aboard that very ship, hidden somewhere in this sea of people!
The thought that Charlie Reid might even at that minute be spying
upon her was so distasteful to Ruth that she made some excuse to Tom
and hurried below to the cabin that she was to share with Helen.
It was a comfortable stateroom, for the steamer was a large one and
boasted every modern convenience and comfort, but at the moment it
seemed like a prison to Ruth.
She managed to shake off the unpleasant thought and replied to
Helen’s cheery greeting in kind.
That young person had kicked off her shoes and was luxuriously
reclining on the bed reading a book she had purchased in Seattle.
Beside her on a chair within easy reach of her groping fingers was a
two-pound box of chocolates.
For just a moment Ruth thought that it would be nice to be like
Helen, relieved of all responsibilities and free to enjoy herself to
her heart’s content.
But even while she thought it Ruth knew that responsibility,
excitement, and the thrill of outwitting an enemy and overcoming
obstacles had become the breath of life to her and that she could
never again be completely content without them.
“Hello, Ruth, you bold, bad adventurer,” Helen greeted her
flippantly. “Come here and share my couch and candy and tell me how
the world goes with you.”
“I’ll share the candy but not the couch,” Ruth laughed. “I have work
to do.”
“That is the chief—I might say, only—trouble with you, Ruth
Fielding,” complained her chum. “You always have so much work to do
that you make me feel like the proverbial sluggard.”
“Well, that’s just what you are,” said Ruth indulgently. “But I
wouldn’t have you change for the world. Why, it rests me just to look
at you!”
“That,” said Helen plaintively, “has all the earmarks of a dirty dig.
But I forgive you, Ruthie—I am far too comfortable even to resent an
insult!”
Ruth laughed and took out the picture Maurice Brandt had submitted
to her, showing enlarged pictures of the interior scene shot at
Hollywood.
But try as she would, she could not keep her mind upon them. Her
thoughts returned again and again to the information she had gleaned
from Todd.
Bloomberg in Alaska! Bloomberg in Alaska! beat a monotonous refrain
over and over in her head.
“And fifteen nice long days to think about it!”
She did not realize that she had spoken aloud until she found Helen
staring at her in amazement.
“For goodness’ sake—to think about what?” inquired that flippant
young lady. “Wake up, Ruthie, you’ve been talking in your sleep.”
Of course, after that there was nothing to do but for Ruth to pass
the news about Bloomberg along to her friend.
“Well,” observed Helen, settling back comfortably to her story, “I
wouldn’t worry about it, if I were you. Alaska’s a large place and we
may not meet Bloomberg after all.”
If Ruth had her doubts about this she very firmly kept them to
herself. And as she saw nothing of Charlie Reid and no one mentioned
Bloomberg’s name again, the days on shipboard gradually settled into
a pleasant, steady routine that temporarily lulled her fears to rest.
Every one seemed to be enjoying himself, and since there was to be no
picture making until they reached shore, there was little chance for
friction between directors and actors.
Meanwhile, Ruth Fielding became better acquainted with the actors and
came to feel that she was making some headway with them.
They were more friendly than they had been at first and no longer
gathered in groups for the purpose, she could not help feeling, of
discussing her.
So it happened that the fifteen days of journey to St. Michael which
Ruth had looked upon as a tiresome, if necessary, delay to picture
making, was not so unprofitable after all. The only two in the
company who were not completely won by their new director’s frank and
friendly manner were Gerard Bolton, the assistant director, and the
humpback, Rumph.
The former maintained his “have to be shown” attitude while Rumph was
openly sullen and unfriendly.
In spite of this, Ruth was very much encouraged. With most of the
company squarely back of her and Gerard Bolton not openly unfriendly,
she could afford to snap her fingers at Joe Rumph. Or so she thought.
But events were soon to prove that Ruth did not know Joe Rumph’s type
as well as she thought she did!
The trip was uneventful up to the fifth day, which was the day of the
big storm.
The wind rose about dinner time and by nine o’clock had lashed itself
to such a frenzy that the passengers left the spray-soaked decks
almost in a body and sought the shelter of their cabins and their
staterooms.
Even below decks the slapping of the waves against the vessel came to
the passengers with an ominous, rumbling, roaring sound.
The wind increased in violence and the rain fell in great, blinding
gusts that beat upon the decks with the violence of hailstones.
“Phew!” cried Helen, peeping out of a porthole, “where do you suppose
all that wind comes from?”
No one answered, for at that moment there came a rending, grinding
noise and the great vessel listed sharply to one side. At the same
moment came a stentorian cry from above decks, the most heart-rending
cry that can be heard aboard ship!
“Man overboard!”