AN ABSENT-MINDED VISITOR
“Outrageous--unpardonable!” gasped the professor, as he struggled to
his feet, thus rudely aroused from his habitual abstraction.
Pep stooped to pick up the rolling hat and to hide a grin. Randy, as he
rescued the glasses, bit his lip to keep his face straight. Even Mr.
Strapp was amused; but he did not allow himself to show it.
Frank was always the gentleman and the boy of business. He had arisen
to his feet. He extended his hand, sober as a judge, with the words:
“I am glad to see you, Professor Barrington. We were just going over
that matter of yours and I was about to start for your hotel.”
“Good--glad. Then you favor my plan?”
“We are all very much interested,” observed Mr. Strapp. “Will you have
a chair, sir?”
The eyes of the little coterie were fixed upon their odd visitor.
Knowing Frank as they did, his chums were as one in the conviction
that their bright young leader had brought about a situation that
promised interesting developments.
It was not the first time that some such an incident had proved the
beginning of an important move in the business to which the three boys
had been now devoted for nearly two years. From the first day that the
movies idea had captivated these close comrades and friends, Frank had
been the main mover in discoveries, suggestions and activities that had
led them up to the present pleasant and useful position they filled in
their own little business world.
It was Frank who had originally found a way to employ their little
stock of savings, to obtain an outfit for the starting of their first
motion picture venture in their native village of Fairlands, known as
the Wonderland, as related in the first volume of the present series,
entitled, “The Motion Picture Chums’ First Venture; Or, Opening a Photo
Playhouse In Fairlands.”
It was Frank who, when the winter season was past and local trade grew
dull, had discovered a promising outlook for a Wonderland No. 2 at
Seaside Park. This was a popular outing resort some fifty miles from
New York City. Their success with that venture has been told in a
second book, called, “The Motion Picture Chums at Seaside Park; Or, The
Rival Photo Theaters of the Boardwalk.”
When they retired temporarily from that enterprise with the departing
excursion crowds, a higher ambition had led them to seek a wider sphere
of action.
In the third volume, entitled, “The Motion Picture Chums On Broadway;
Or, The Mystery of the Missing Cash Box,” has been narrated the
struggles, trials, and triumphs of the boys in founding their Empire
photo playhouse on upper Broadway in New York City. All along the line
they had found rivals, even enemies, but friends as well.
Mr. Strapp, who now sat in their midst, was one of the latter, and
a loyal, helpful, companion he had become. Frank had saved the
unsophisticated Westerner, fresh from ranch life, from being swindled
out of a large sum of money. The ex-ranchman had appreciated this and
the good qualities of the three chums, and had become their partner, to
the benefit of all.
Ben Jolly, a musician of no mean ability, was another who had come into
their lives. Then there were several lads whom Frank had found poor, in
trouble, and needing a friend badly. He had given them a helping hand.
In the last preceding book of the series, named, “The Motion Picture
Chums’ Outdoor Exhibition; Or, The Film That Solved a Mystery,” the ups
and downs of a new venture, the Airdrome, at Riverside Grove, located
on the Palisades of the Hudson River, have been recited.
Each of the group was now filling some efficient part in the operations
of the Amusement Company organized by Mr. Strapp and the motion picture
chums to bring system and success to the chain of photo playhouses they
conducted.
An old comrade of Ben Jolly, a professional ventriloquist named Hal
Vincent, had managed the Wonderland No. 2 at Seaside Park during the
season. At Fairlands a capable young fellow was in the harness, and
another deserving lad was operating the Model, a small affair at
Belleview, up the Hudson. Dave Sawyer, whom Frank had rescued from the
clutches of a cruel taskmaster, named Slavin, had assisted Frank and
his partners in making a success of the famous Airdrome, and was now
located at Riverside Grove.
Now, at the beginning of the autumn season, the little group had taken
up their headquarters at the principal playhouse of the chain. The
Empire was the most profitable institution of the group. It was a
model, up-to-date, and well patronized the year around. It was like
getting back home to once more enjoy its coziness. The motion picture
chums had plenty to do with so many ventures on their hands, but “the
Tip Top” was the constant ambition of the partners.
Frank was always on the lookout for something new to keep them abreast
of the times. As has been seen, he had made an attractive discovery
that day. Now its progress was signalized by the extraordinary
appearance of Professor Achilles Barrington.
The odd intruder upon the little group seemed now at ease through the
generous reception he had received. He set his glasses straight and
brushed his hat with his coat sleeve. Then he tapped his head sharply
with his knuckles, as if punishing truant ideas that had led him into a
blunder, and summoning up new ones.
“Embarrassed--decidedly so,” he observed. “Deep in thought--and all
that. Scarcely respectable--bolting in on you this way. Made a bad
impression, I fear.”
“Not at all, sir,” responded Mr. Strapp, indulgently. “Our friend,
Frank Durham, has paved the way for a genuine welcome. Let me introduce
myself--Strapp is my name, and I never say what I don’t mean. I am very
glad to meet a person of your education, Professor Barrington. This is
Randolph Powell, and this Pepperill Smith.”
“I declare, it’s like home to be among you,” said the professor,
smiling expansively at the friendly greeting he received. “I must
apologize for coming here uninvited, gentlemen; but I couldn’t rest
thinking over the possibilities suggested by Mr. Durham. You don’t know
how my heart is set on my great enterprise, nor the bother and trouble
I have had getting at the right people.”
“I reckon you’ve found ’em this time, sir, if your scheme holds water
at all,” declared Mr. Strapp, in his blunt fashion.
“Thank you--it makes me happy to hear you say that. I ought to
apologize, Mr. Durham, for showing childish anxiety about you; but I
was fooled once and I do not wish to waste any time. Now that I see
what a really pretentious business you have here, I realize that you
did not tell half. You see, I fell into the hands of a fellow who made
all kinds of false representations, beside fleecing me out of money.
It’s made me nervous about getting things started before someone else
exploits the idea. I’ve become so afraid of speculators and promoters
that I shall breathe more freely when I get back to my home city.”
“Meaning Boston, I assume?” asked Mr. Strapp.
“That’s right, sir! And it’s the right place, and the only one where
the educational film will be accepted with open arms. I know the
people, Mr. Strapp. They know me, too, in my humble way.”
“And exactly what do you expect us to do?” inquired the Westerner, in a
business-like tone.
“Why, I have not the capital myself to start such a photo playhouse
as my plan deserves. Another thing: I am not a practical showman in
any sense of the word; I have, though, enough money to arrange for
the films. The films, gentlemen, comprise the whole essence of this
proposition.”
“You have a special interest in that direction; eh?” intimated Mr.
Strapp.
“I may say that--yes,” declared the professor. “Mediocre stuff will
not do at all. The scarce, the odd, the new, the remarkable--I saw my
needs when this idea first occurred to me. In my satchel at the hotel,
locked up in its strong safe, are credentials showing that I am to-day
in touch with film producers all over the world.”
“Why--what for?” burst out the curious Pep.
“What for--what?” in turn challenged the professor, with wondering eyes.
“Locked up--in a safe! Valuable, I suppose?”
“So much so, that I am satisfied a group of unscrupulous men are after
it,” asserted Professor Barrington, solemnly. “You see, in planning
out my campaign I have had to proceed with caution, so that rivals
would not forestall me. I have even designed a telegraphic code so
that messages sent and received may not be deciphered by others to my
disadvantage.”
Frank’s eyes were opening wider with mingled interest and excitement.
As their eccentric visitor warmed up to his subject, the young leader
of the motion picture chums saw that the professor had used order and
system in his preliminary work.
“I have a primary list of many subjects, some of which are already in
the hands of the picture takers,” continued the professor. “My object
has been to have really educational films.”
“For instance, what?” questioned Mr. Strapp.
“Well, showing how flowers grow--animal, bird and insect life--the
mysteries of the deep. Then again, in the mechanical arts--the great
industries--factories, lighthouses, conventions. I am now working out a
scenario for a natural wonder that will electrify the thinking public.
I simply give you an outline; details will come later if we make a deal.
“I have already invested several thousands of dollars in the venture.
What I propose is that someone else finance the exhibition of the films
in the right way. I will defray the expenses up to that point.”
Mr. Strapp arose and paced a few steps in a restless manner. This was
always his way when interested in something of a business nature. Frank
caught a glance from his eyes and at once saw that his clear-headed
business partner had made up his mind.
“I have listened to you, sir,” remarked Mr. Strapp, bluntly, “and
I will say I am very much interested. In plain words: I favor your
proposition. I’m not much on education, though, and Durham is. What do
you propose, sir?”
“That you come to Boston and look over a location I have selected, go
over the papers I have in my satchel, look me up to see if I am the
kind of man to deal with, and make your decision.”
“Fair enough,” agreed Mr. Strapp. “Let Durham act as our
representative. He’s only a boy, professor, but smarter than most
grown men. I’d trust his good judgment any time; and if he says go
ahead, that settles it.”
“Most satisfactory,” exclaimed the professor; his thoughtful face
brightening magically. “I feel I can trust you.”
“When would you wish me to go to Boston, Professor Barrington?” asked
Frank.
“Right away!” cried the professor, consulting his watch and jumping to
his feet with the celerity of a pleased schoolboy.