A FOOLISH BOY
It was the youthful Sangoan who first broke the silence. Glancing at the
figures he had made he said:
"It is estimated that if twenty picture theatres use any one film--copies
of it, of course--that film will pay for its cost of making. Therefore,
if you build twenty children's theatres, instead of the one or two you
originally proposed, you would be able to manufacture your own films and
they would be no expense to you."
They gazed at him in bewilderment.
"That is all simple enough!" laughed Arthur. "Twenty picture theatres at
twenty thousand dollars each--a low estimate, my dears, for such as you
require--would mean an investment of four hundred thousand dollars. A
film factory, with several producing companies to keep it busy, and all
the necessary paraphernalia of costumes and properties, would mean a
million or so more. Say a million and a half, all told. Why, it's a mere
bagatelle!"
"Arthur!" Severely, from Louise.
"I advise you girls to economize in other ways and devote your resources
to this business, which might pay you--and might not," he continued,
oblivious to stony glares.
"Really, Mr. Jones," said Beth, pouting, "we were not joking, but in
real earnest."
"Have I questioned it, Miss De Graf?"
"Mr. Jones was merely trying to show you how--er--er--how impractical
your idea was," explained Uncle John mildly.
"No; I am in earnest, too," said the boy. "To prove it, I will agree to
establish a plant and make the pictures, if the young ladies will build
the twenty theatres to show them in."
Here was another suggestion of a bewildering nature. Extravagant as
the offer seemed, the boy was very serious. He blushed a little as he
observed Mr. Merrick eyeing him earnestly, and continued in an
embarrassed, halting way: "I--I assure you, sir, that I am able to
fulfill my part of the agreement. Also I would like to do it. It
would serve to interest me and keep me occupied in ways that are not
wholly selfish. My--my other business does not demand my personal
attention, you see."
To hear this weak, sickly youth speak of investing a million dollars in
a doubtful enterprise, in spite of the fact that he lived on a far-away
island and was a practical stranger in America, set them all to
speculating anew in regard to his history and condition in life. Seeing
that the boy had himself made an opening for a logical query, Uncle
John asked:
"Do you mind telling us what this other business is, to which you refer?"
A. Jones moved uneasily in his chair. Then he glanced quickly around the
circle and found every eye regarding him with eager curiosity. He blushed
again, a deep red this time, but an instant later straightened up and
spoke in a tone of sudden resolve.
"Most people dislike to speak of themselves," he said, "and I am no
exception. But you, who have kindly received me as a friend, after having
generously saved me from an untimely death, have surely the right to
know something about me--if, indeed, the subject interests you."
"It is but natural that we should feel an interest in you, Mr. Jones,"
replied Mr. Merrick; "yet I assure you we have no desire to pry into your
personal affairs. You have already volunteered a general statement of
your antecedents and the object of your visit to America, and that, I
assure you, will suffice us. Pardon me for asking an impertinent
question."
The boy seemed perplexed, now.
"I did not consider it impertinent, sir. I made a business proposal to
your nieces," he said, "and before they could accept such a proposal they
would be entitled to know something of my financial standing."
For a green, inexperienced youth, he spoke with rare acumen, thought Mr.
Merrick; but the old gentleman had now determined to shield the boy from
a forced declaration of his finances, so he said:
"My nieces can hardly afford to accept your proposition. They are really
able to build one or two theatres without inconveniencing themselves,
but twenty would be beyond their means. You, of course, understand they
were not seeking an investment, but trying, with all their hearts, to
benefit the children. I thoroughly approve their original idea, but if it
requires twenty picture theatres to render it practical, they will
abandon the notion at once."
Jones nodded absently, his eyes half closed in thought. After a brief
pause he replied:
"I hate to see this idea abandoned at the very moment of its birth. It's
a good idea, and in no way impractical, in my opinion. So permit me to
make another proposition. I will build the twenty theatres myself, and
furnish the films for them, provided the young ladies will agree to
assume the entire management of them when they are completed."
Dead silence followed this speech. The girls did some rapid-fire mental
calculations and realized that this young man was proposing to invest
something like fourteen hundred thousand dollars, in order that they
might carry out their philanthropic conception. Why should he do this,
even if he could afford it?
Both Mr. Merrick and Arthur Weldon were staring stolidly at the floor.
Their attitudes expressed, for the first time, doubt--if not positive
unbelief. As men of considerable financial experience, they regarded the
young islander's proposition as an impossible one.
Jones noted this blank reception of his offer and glanced appealingly at
Patsy. It was an uncomfortable moment for the girl and to avoid meeting
his eyes she looked away, across the lobby. A few paces distant stood a
man who leaned against a table and held a newspaper before his face.
Patsy knew, however, that he was not reading. A pair of dark, glistening
eyes peered over the top of the paper and were steadfastly fixed upon the
unconscious features of young Jones.
Something in the attitude of the stranger, whom she had never seen
before, something in the rigid pose, the intent gaze--indicating both
alertness and repression--riveted the girl's attention at once and gave
her a distinct shock of uneasiness.
"I wish," said the boy, in his quiet, firm way, yet with much deference
in his manner and tone, "that you young ladies would consider my offer
seriously, and take proper time to reach a decision. I am absolutely in
earnest. I want to join you in your attempt to give pleasure to children,
and I am willing and--and able--to furnish the funds required. Without
your cooperation, however, I could do nothing, and my health is such that
I wish to leave the management of the theatres entirely in your hands, as
well as all the details of their construction."
"We will consider it, of course, Mr. Jones," answered Beth gravely. "We
are a little startled just now, as you see; but when we grow accustomed
to the immensity of the scheme--our baby, which you have transformed into
a giant--we shall be able to consider it calmly and critically, and
decide if we are competent to undertake the management of so many
theatres."
"Thank you. Then, I think, I will excuse myself for this evening and
return to my room. I'm improving famously, under Dr. Doyle's
instructions, but am not yet a rugged example of health."
Patsy took his hand at parting, as did the others, but her attention was
divided between Ajo and the strange man who had never for a moment
ceased watching him. Not once did the dark eyes waver, but followed each
motion of the boy as he sauntered to the desk, got his key from the
clerk, and then proceeded to his room, turning up one of the corridors
on the main floor.
The stranger now laid his newspaper on the table and disclosed his
entire face for the first time. A middle-aged man, he seemed to be,
with iron-gray hair and a smoothly shaven, rather handsome face. From
his dress he appeared to be a prosperous business man and it was
evident that he was a guest of the hotel, for he wandered through the
lobby--in which many other guests were grouped, some chatting and
others playing "bridge"--and presently disappeared down the corridor
traversed by young Jones.
Patsy drew a deep breath, but said nothing to the others, who, when
relieved of the boy's presence, began to discuss volubly his
singular proposal.
"The fellow is crazy," commented Arthur. "Twenty picture theatres,
with a film factory to supply them, is a big order even for a
multi-millionaire--and I can't imagine this boy coming under that head."
"He seemed in earnest," said Maud, musingly. "What do you think,
Aunt Jane?"
"I am greatly perplexed," admitted Mrs. Montrose. "Had I not known of the
conquest of Goldstein by this boy, who issued orders which the manager of
the Continental meekly obeyed, I would have laughed at his proposition.
As it is, I'm afraid to state that he won't carry out his plan to the
letter of the agreement."
"Would it not be a rash investment, ma'am?" inquired Uncle John.
"Frankly, I do not know. While all the film makers evade any attempt to
discover how prosperous--financially--they are, we know that without
exception they have grown very wealthy. I am wondering if this young
Jones is not one of the owners of the Continental--a large stockholder,
perhaps. If so, that not only accounts for his influence with Goldstein,
but it proves him able to finance this remarkable enterprise. He
doubtless knows what he is undertaking, for his figures, while not
accurate, were logical."
"Of course!" cried Patsy. "That explains everything."
"Still," said Uncle John cautiously, "this is merely surmise on our part,
and before accepting it we must reconcile it with the incongruities in
the case. It is possible that the elder Jones owned an interest in the
Continental and bequeathed it to his son. But is it probable? Remember,
he was an islander, and a recluse."
"More likely," said Beth, "Ajo's father left him a great fortune, which
the boy invested in the Continental stock."
"I have been told," remarked Aunt Jane thoughtfully, "that Continental
stock cannot be bought at any price. It pays such enormous dividends that
no owner will dispose of it."
"The whole thing is perplexing in the extreme," declared Arthur. "The boy
tells a story that at first seems frank and straightforward, yet his
statements do not dovetail, so to speak."
"I think he is holding something back," said Beth; "something that would
explain all the discrepancies in his story. You were wrong, Uncle John,
not to let him speak when he offered to tell you all."
"There was something in his manner that made me revolt from forcing his
confidence," was the reply.
"There was something in his manner that made me think he was about
to concoct a story that would satisfy our curiosity," said Louise
with a shrug.
Uncle John looked around the circle of faces.
"You are not questioning the young fellow's sincerity, I hope?" said he.
"I don't, for a single second!" asserted Patsy, stoutly. "He may have a
queer history, and he may not have told us all of it, but Ajo is honest.
I'll vouch for him!"
"So will I, my dear," said Uncle John.
"That is more than I can do, just at present," Arthur frankly stated. "My
opinion is that his preposterous offer is mere bluff. If you accepted
it, you would find him unable to do his part."
"Then what is his object?" asked Maud.
"I can't figure it out, as yet. He might pose as a millionaire and a
generous friend and philanthropist for some time, before the truth was
discovered, and during that time he could carry out any secret plans he
had in mind. The boy is more shrewd than he appears to be. We, by chance
saved his life, and at once he attached himself to us like a barnacle,
and we can't shake him off."
"We don't want to," said Patsy.
"My explanation is that he has fallen in love with one of us
girls," suggested Flo, with a mischievous glance at her sister. "I
wonder if it's me?"
"It is more likely," said Louise, "that he has discovered Uncle John to
be a very--prosperous--man."
"Nonsense, my dear!" exclaimed that gentleman, evidently irritated by the
insinuation. "Don't pick the boy to pieces. Give him a chance. So far he
has asked nothing from us, but offers everything. He's a grateful fellow
and is anxious to help you girls carry out your ambitious plans. That is
how I read him, and I think it is absurd to prejudge him in the way you
are doing."
The party broke up, the Stantons and Weldons going to their rooms. Beth
also rose.
"Are you coming to bed, Patsy?" she inquired.
"Not just now," her cousin replied. "Between us, we've rubbed Uncle
John's fur the wrong way and he won't get composed until he has
smoked his good-night cigar. I'll sit with him in this corner and
keep him company."
So the little man and his favorite niece were left together, and he did
not seem in the least ruffled as he lit his cigar and settled down in a
big chair, with Patsy beside him, to enjoy it.