A MISSING MILLIONAIRE
Contrary to Larry's expectations Mr. Emberg was not at all impressed
by Sullivan's threats.
"I've heard talk like that before," the city editor said. "The
_Leader_ will try to worry along without the aid of Mr. Jack
Sullivan. As for you, Larry, don't give it another thought. If he
ever bothers you, or any of his ward-heelers try to make the least
trouble for you, let me know. I guess we have some influence in this
city. Well, I'll look for wholesale denials of your interview from
now on. Sullivan showed his hand too quickly it seems. We must try
for Potter now. Queer how he hangs back when we've got part of the
story."
"Haven't any of the boys been able to find him?" asked Larry.
"Harvey can't get near him, and when he can't no one can. There's
something queer about it. At the house they will give out no
information, except to say that Mr. Potter can't be seen. At his
office the clerks either say that he is engaged or has not come in
yet. I'm beginning to think he's keeping out of the way on purpose."
Mr. Emberg's surmise about the other papers publishing denials of
the Sullivan interview was correct. Those journals which were on the
same political platform as that of the man whose enmity Larry had
incurred proved, to their own satisfaction at least, that Sullivan
could not support Reilly. As for the _Leader_, which was independent
in politics, that paper did not worry over the accusations of
"faking" made against it. Mr. Emberg knew he was right, and he was
planning for a big disclosure when some of his reporters could find
Hamden Potter.
For a time the Sullivan matter was dropped, and Larry found his time
busily occupied in a varied lot of assignments.
One day the young reporter was sent to one of the hotels to
interview a youthful millionaire, who had come to the city from a
distant town in a big touring car, accompanied by a number of
friends.
"Hump! Seems to me I'm assigned to all the millionaire cases," mused
Larry.
The young millionaire was named Dick Hamilton, and he was none other
than the youth who has figured in another series of mine, called the
"Dick Hamilton Series," starting with "Dick Hamilton's Fortune."
Dick had come to New York for the purpose of making an investment
and had had an encounter with a sharper, who had tried to sell him
some worthless stocks.
"Please give me the story," pleaded Larry, and he got the tale in
detail, and what was more, he and Dick Hamilton became so friendly
that the young millionaire promised to keep the story from all other
reporters; so that Larry scored another beat, much to his own
satisfaction and the satisfaction of his friends.
"Keep on and you'll be at the top," said the city editor, and then
he went on: "Here is something else you might look into, Larry. It
might make a fine thing for the Sunday supplement. You can go up
there, get the yarn, and you needn't come back to-day. Write it up
the first thing in the morning."
"What sort of story is it?" asked Larry.
"Why, it's a postal, from an old German, I take it, who says he has
invented a flying machine."
"I guess he's about the only one in ten thousand who has been
successful then," answered Larry, smiling.
"Oh, I don't suppose it amounts to anything," went on Mr. Emberg.
"But it may make a good story to let the old gentleman talk, and
describe the machine. The public likes stories about flying machines
and queer inventors, even if the machines don't work. Get a good
yarn, for we need one for the first page of the supplement. I'll
sent Sneed, the photographer, up later to get some pictures of it."
The city editor handed Larry a postal card, poorly written and
spelled, on which there was a request that a reporter be sent to a
certain address on the East Side, to get a story of a wonderful
invention, destined to revolutionize methods of travel.
It was not the first time Larry had been sent on this sort of an
assignment. Once he had gone to get a story of a new kind of gas
lamp a man had invented, and the thing had exploded while he was
watching the owner demonstrate it. Luckily neither of them were
hurt.
Larry found the address given on the postal was in a dilapidated
tenement, seemingly deserted, and standing some distance away from
other buildings.
When he got there he ran into a reporter named Fritsch, who worked
on a German newspaper.
"Dot inventor vos mofed avay," said the German reporter. "Some
beoples told me he vos krazy."
"Is the house vacant?" asked Larry.
"I dink so. Maype ve walk through him, yah?"
Larry was willing, and together the pair went into the tenement and
upstairs.
As they passed through one of the halls Larry looked up and saw a
man peering down at him over a balustrade. He gave a gasp.
"Vot it is?" questioned the German reporter.
"That man!" cried Larry. He ran up the stairs and tried to catch
the individual, who was running away.
The man was the person he had helped to rescue from the ocean--the
one who had given his name as Mah Retto.
The strange man entered a side room and locked the door. Larry
knocked, but nobody answered his summons.
"Dot vos not der inventor," said Fritsch.
"I know it--but I'd like to see him, nevertheless," answered the
young newspaper man.
A little later the two reporters came down into the street and
separated. Larry went home, but after supper that evening he walked
again in the direction of the lonely tenement. He wanted to see the
policeman, whose post took in that section of the city, and make
some inquiries of him. The officer might be able to throw some light
on the sudden appearance of the strange man.
Larry found the policeman after some search. The officer, as soon as
he learned Larry was from the _Leader_, was very willing to tell all
he knew, for the _Leader_ was a paper that always spoke well of the
police, and the force appreciated this.
"It sure is a queer house," said Patrolman Higgins. "I remember the
time it was filled with families, but they all moved away because
the owner didn't make any repairs. The only person there was a crazy
German who's daffy on airships. He got out to-day."
"I've heard of him," replied Larry. "But is he the only one in
there? I heard there was another man stopping there."
"Now that you speak of it, I shouldn't wonder but what there was,"
answered Higgins. "I saw two lights in there to-night, for the first
time. I've got sort of used to seeing one in the window where the
crazy German is puttering away at his airship, but awhile ago I
noticed a gleam in another part of the house. I took it for a second
lamp the German had lighted, but now that I think of it, seems to me
it was on the other side of the house. I shouldn't wonder but what
you're right."
"Oh, it doesn't matter much," said Larry, who did not want to arouse
too great interest in the matter. "I just thought you might happen
to know him."
"I'll make some inquiries in the neighborhood," the officer went on.
"I don't want that shack to get to be a hanging-out place for
tramps. It was bad enough to have the German there, but he paid his
rent to the owner, who's about as crazy as the airship inventor.
I'll look up this other fellow. Drop around to-morrow night and I
may have some news for you."
"I will," replied Larry, satisfied that he had put his plan into
operation. "It's nothing special, but I had an idea I might get a
story out of the chap." And he went home again.
Larry reported to Mr. Emberg the next morning all the details of the
visit to the strange house.
"If some East Indian chooses to hide himself it can't make much
difference to us," said the city editor. "I judge him to be a native
from that name. I've got another story for you to go out on. It's
about----"
At that instant the telephone on Mr. Emberg's desk rang insistently.
He broke off what he was saying to Larry to grab up the instrument.
"Hello. Yes, this is Mr. Emberg. Oh, is that you, Harvey? What's
that? Reported to the police as missing? Are you sure it's him?
Great Scott! If that's true that's a corking good story! That
explains some things! You take the police end and I'll send some one
up to the house! Good-bye!"
The city editor was excited.
"Here, Larry!" he cried. "Jump right out on this. The police have
just received a report that Hamden Potter, the millionaire
financier, is missing. They tried to keep it quiet, but Harvey got
on to it. Hustle up to Potter's house and get all the particulars
you can. Get a picture of him. Hamden Potter missing!" he went on,
as Larry hurried away on his assignment. "There's something queer in
the wind, that's sure!"
There was--something more strange than Mr. Emberg suspected, and
Larry's assignment was one destined to last for some time.