E-text prepared by Barbara Tozier, Charles Aldarondo, and the Project
Gutenberg Online Distributed Proofreading Team (https://www.pgdp.net)
LARRY DEXTER'S GREAT SEARCH
Or, The Hunt for the Missing Millionaire
by
HOWARD R. GARIS
Author of "From Office Boy to Reporter," "Larry Dexter, Reporter,"
"Dick Hamilton's Fortune," etc.
Illustrated
New York
Grosset & Dunlap
Publishers
1909
[Illustration: "HERE IT IS!" CRIED LARRY. (Frontispiece)]
* * * * * *
Books For Boys
By Howard R. Garis
THE DICK HAMILTON SERIES
DICK HAMILTON'S FORTUNE
Or The Stirring Doings of a Millionaire's Son
DICK HAMILTON'S CADET DAYS
Or The Handicap of a Millionaire's Son
DICK HAMILTON'S STEAM YACHT
Or A Young Millionaire and the Kidnappers
DICK HAMILTON'S FOOTBALL TEAM
Or A Young Millionaire on the Gridiron
(Other volumes in preparation)
12 mo. Cloth. Illustrated.
Price, per volume, 60 cents, postpaid
THE YOUNG REPORTER SERIES
FROM OFFICE BOY TO REPORTER
Or The First Step in Journalism
LARRY DEXTER, THE YOUNG REPORTER
Or Strange Adventures in a Great City
LARRY DEXTER'S GREAT SEARCH
Or The Hunt for a Missing Millionaire
LARRY DEXTER AND THE BANK MYSTERY
Or A Young Reporter in Wall Street
LARRY DEXTER AND THE STOLEN BOY
Or A Young Reporter on the Lakes
12 mo. Cloth. Illustrated
Price, per volume, 40 cents, postpaid
Grosset & Dunlap
Publishers New York
* * * * * *
PREFACE
Dear Boys:
I hope you will be glad to read of the further adventures of Larry
Dexter. He has made some progress since you first made his
acquaintance in the book "From Office Boy to Reporter." He has also
advanced in his chosen profession from the days when he did his
first news-gathering for the _Leader_. In this volume he is sent on
a "special assignment," as it is called. He has to find a New York
millionaire who has mysteriously disappeared.
How Larry solved the strange secret, I have woven into a story that
I trust will be liked by all the boys who read it. I have taken many
incidents from real life for this story, using some of my own
experiences while a newspaper reporter as a basis for facts.
The things that happened to Larry are not at all out of the
ordinary among reporters. The life has many strange surprises in it.
If I have been able to set them down in a way that will please you
boys, and if you enjoy following the further fortunes of Larry
Dexter, I shall feel amply repaid for my efforts on this volume.
Yours sincerely,
HOWARD R. GARIS.
CONTENTS.
CHAPTER PAGE
I. THE WRECK 1
II. ASHORE ON A RAFT 10
III. THE MAN AT THE HUT 17
IV. RESCUED FROM THE SEA 26
V. LARRY'S SCOOP 33
VI. A STRANGE DISAPPEARANCE 42
VII. LARRY OVERHEARS SOMETHING 49
VIII. AN INTERVIEW WITH SULLIVAN 57
IX. EVERYTHING BUT THE FACTS 64
X. THREATS AGAINST LARRY 73
XI. A MISSING MILLIONAIRE 81
XII. A BRAVE GIRL 88
XIII. WHERE IS HE? 94
XIV. IN THE TENEMENT HOUSE 100
XV. LARRY'S SPECIAL ASSIGNMENT 109
XVI. SULLIVAN'S QUEER ACCUSATION 118
XVII. GRACE GETS A LETTER 125
XVIII. LARRY IS BAFFLED 138
XIX. GRACE ON THE TRAIL 148
XX. LARRY GETS A SCARE 156
XXI. TRACING RETTO 167
XXII. GRACE IS SUSPICIOUS 174
XXIII. CAPTAIN TANTRELLA ARRIVES 180
XXIV. RETTO IS CAUGHT 186
XXV. IN THE HOSPITAL 192
XXVI. A NEW CLUE 200
XXVII. THE DETECTIVE'S THEORY 208
XXVIII. A TERRIBLE MISTAKE 214
XXIX. IN HIS ENEMIES' POWER 222
XXX. MR. POTTER IS FOUND--CONCLUSION 229
LARRY DEXTER'S GREAT SEARCH
CHAPTER I
THE WRECK
Into the city room of the New York _Leader_ hurried Mr. Whiggen, the
telegraph editor. In his hand was a slip of paper, containing a few
typewritten words. Mr. Whiggen laid it on the desk of Bruce Emberg,
the city editor.
"Just came in over our special wire," said Mr. Whiggen. "Looks as if
it might be a bad wreck. That's a dangerous coast. I thought you
might like to send one of your men down to cover it."
"Thanks," replied the city editor. "I will. Let's see," and, while
he read the message, a score of reporters in the room looked up to
see what had caused the telegraph editor to come in with such a
rush.
This is what Mr. Emberg read from the slip Mr. Whiggen handed him:
"BULLETIN.--S.S. _Olivia_ ashore off Seven Mile Beach, on sand bar.
Big steerage list, some cabin passengers--fruit cargo. Ship badly
listed, but may get off at high tide. If not, liable to break up in
storm. Passengers safe yet.--ASSOCIATED PRESS."
There followed a brief description of the vessel, compiled from the
maritime register, giving her tonnage, size, and when built.
"Um," remarked Mr. Emberg when he had read the short message, which
was what newspaper men call a "flash" or bulletin, intended to
notify the journals of the barest facts of the story. "This looks as
if it would amount to something. I'll send a man down. Have we any
one there?"
"We've got a man in Ocean City," replied the telegraph editor, "but
I'm afraid I can't reach him. Have to depend on the Associated Press
until we can get some one down."
"All right, I'll send right away."
The telegraph editor went back to his sanctum on the run, for it was
near first-edition time and he wanted to get a display head written
for the wreck story. Mr. Emberg looked over the room, in which many
reporters were at work, most of them typewriting stories as fast as
their fingers could fly over the keys. Several of the news-gatherers
who had heard the conversation between the two editors hoped they
might be sent on that assignment, for though it meant hard work it
was a chance to get out of the city for a while.
"Are you up, Newton?" asked Mr. Emberg of a reporter in the far
corner of the room.
"No, I've got that political story to write yet."
"That's so. I can't spare you. How about you, Larry?"
"I'm up," was the answer, which is the newspaper man's way of saying
his particular task is finished.
"Here, then, jump out on this," and the city editor handed the
telegram to a tall, good-looking youth, who arose from his desk near
a window.
Larry Dexter, who had risen from the rank of office boy to reporter,
took in the message at a glance.
"Shall I start now?" he asked.
"As soon as you can get a train. Seven Mile Beach is down on the
Jersey coast, near Anglesea. You can't get there in time to wire us
anything for to-day, but rush a good story for to-morrow. If a storm
comes up, and they have to rescue the passengers, it will make a
corker. Don't be afraid of slinging your words if it turns out worth
while. Here's an order on the cashier for some money. Hustle now,"
and Mr. Emberg scribbled down something on a slip of paper which he
handed to the young reporter.
"Leave the message in the telegraph room as you go out," went on
the city editor. "Mr. Whiggen may want it. Hustle now, Larry, and do
your best."
Many envious eyes followed Larry Dexter as he hurried out of the
city room, putting on his coat and hat as he went, for he had been
working in his shirt sleeves.
Larry went down the long corridor, stopping in the telegraph room to
leave the message which was destined to be responsible for his part
in a series of strange events. He had little idea, as he left the
_Leader_ office that morning, that his assignment to get the story
of the wreck was the beginning of a singular mystery.
Larry cashed the order Mr. Emberg had given him, and hurried to the
railroad station. He found there was no train for an hour, and,
telephoning to the city editor to that effect, received permission
to go home and get some extra clothing, as he might have to stay
away several days.
The young reporter rather startled his mother as he hurried in to
tell her he was going out of town, but Mrs. Dexter had, in a
measure, become used to her son doing all sorts of queer things
since he had started in newspaper life.
"Will you be gone long, Larry?" she asked, as he kissed her
good-bye, having packed a small valise.
"Can't say, mother. Probably not more than two days."
"Bring me some sea shells," begged Larry's brother, Jimmie, a
bright little chap.
"And I want a lobster and a crab and a starfish," spoke Mary, a
sunny-haired toddler.
"All right, and I'll bring Lucy some shells to make beads of,"
answered Larry, mentioning his older sister, who was not at home.
Larry found he had not much time left to catch his train, and he was
obliged to hurry to the ferry which took him to Jersey City. There
he boarded a Pennsylvania Railroad train, and was soon being whirled
toward the coast.
Seven Mile Beach was a rather dangerous stretch of the Jersey shore,
not far from Cape May. There were several lighthouses along it, but
they did not always prevent vessels from running on a long sand bar,
some distance out. More than one gallant ship had struck far up on
it, and, being unable to get off, had been pounded to pieces by the
waves.
By inquiring Larry found that the wreck of the _Olivia_ was just off
a lonely part of the coast, and that there were no railroad stations
near it.
"Where had I better get off?" he asked, of the conductor.
"Well, you can get off at Sea Isle City, or Sackett's Harbor. Both
stations are about five miles from where the ship lies, according to
all accounts. Then you can walk."
"He can do better than that," interposed a brakeman.
"How?" asked Larry.
"There's a station, or rather what remains of it, half way between
those places," the brakeman said. "It used to be called Miller's
Beach. Started to be a summer resort, but it failed. There's nothing
there now but a few fishermen's huts. But I guess that's nearer the
wreck than Sea Isle City or Sackett's Harbor."
"Is there a place I could stay all night?" asked the young reporter.
"You might find a place. It's pretty lonesome. Sometimes, in the
summer, there are campers there, but it's too late in the fall now
to expect any of 'em. We'll stop there for water, and you can get
off if you like."
Larry hardly knew what to do. Still he decided he was sent to get a
story of the wreck, and he felt it would be well to get as near to
it as possible. But there was another thing to think of, and that
was how to get his news back into the _Leader_ office. He must be
near a telegraph station. Inquiry of the trainmen disclosed the fact
that the nearest one was three miles from Miller's Beach.
"Guess I'll chance it," concluded Larry.
"We'll be there in an hour," went on the brakeman. "It's the
jumping-off place, so to speak, and it's not going to be very
pleasant there when the storm breaks."
That a heavy storm was gathering was all too evident from the mass
of dark, rolling clouds in the east. They hung low, and there was a
rising wind.
"I wouldn't want to be on that vessel," remarked the brakeman as the
train, having stopped at a small station, started off again. "It's
beginning to rain now, and it will blow great guns before morning."
Several men, their faces bronzed from exposure to the weather, had
boarded the train. They talked quietly in one corner of the car.
"Who are they?" asked Larry, of the brakeman.
"Life savers, from the Anglesea station. Going to Tatums, I guess."
"What for?"
"Tatums is the life-saving station nearest where the vessel is
ashore. Maybe they are going to help in case she breaks up in the
storm. Tatums is about three miles below where you are going."
Larry began to see that he would have no easy task in getting news
of the wreck, or in transmitting it after he had it. But he was not
going to worry so early in the undertaking. So, when the brakeman
warned him that the train was nearing the water tank, which was all
that remained of interest to the railroad people at Miller's Beach,
the young reporter prepared to alight.
As he went out on the platform the wind increased in violence, and
then, with a rush and a roar, the rain began to fall in torrents.
Larry wished he could stay in the train, as he had no umbrella, but
there was no help for it. He leaped off the platform of the car
almost before it had stopped, and looked for a place of shelter. He
was surprised to see several large buildings in front of him, but
even through the mist of rain he noted that they were dilapidated
and forsaken. He was in the midst of a deserted seaside resort.
He hurried on, being wet through before he had gone a dozen steps.
Then he heard the train puffing away. It seemed as though he was
left all alone in a very lonesome place.
"Hi! Where you going?" a voice hailed him.
Larry looked up, to see a man clad in yellow oilskins and rubber
boots standing in front of him.
"I came down about the wreck," was the young reporter's reply.
"Got any folks aboard? If you have I'm sorry. She's broken her
back!"
"No; I'm a reporter from New York. What do you mean about breaking
her back?"
"Why, she ran away up on the bar at high tide. When it got low tide
a while ago the bows and stern just sagged down, and she broke in
two. They've got to work hard to save the passengers."
"That's a good story," was Larry's ejaculation, but it was not as
heartless as it sounds, for he was only speaking professionally. "I
must get down after it."
"What? With night coming on, the wreck almost half a mile out, and
it coming on to blow like all possessed?" asked the man in oilskins.
"Guess you don't know much about the sea, young man."
"Very little," answered Larry.
A sudden gust of wind, which dashed the rain with great force into
his face, nearly carried the reporter off his feet. He looked about
for a place of shelter.
"Better come with me," suggested the man. "There are no hotel
accommodations here, though there once were. I have a shack down on
the beach, and you're welcome to what I've got. I fish for a living.
Bailey's my name. Bert Bailey."
"Go ahead. I'll follow," returned Larry. "I'd like to get out of
this rain."
"Have to tog you out like me," said the old fisherman, as he led the
youth toward his hut. "These are the only things for this weather."
As they hastened on there came over the water the boom of a signal
gun from the wrecked steamer.