THE MISSING SATCHEL
“That’s queer!” said Frank Durham.
He said it to himself, for he was seated alone in the railroad station
awaiting the arrival of Professor Barrington. When that personage heard
the decision of the young movies leader and his business partners,
he was for getting to Boston forthwith. After Frank had glanced at a
time-table, the arrangements had been made quickly.
“There is a through express at eleven o’clock,” he reported.
“Then we must make it,” insisted the professor, briskly. “Meet me at
the station. I will just have time to go to my hotel, settle up affairs
there and get my satchel. That train will land us in Boston in five
hours, leaving a chance to do some business there by daylight.”
Then he had departed, and after a brief talk with Mr. Strapp, Frank had
made his way to the railroad station. As his mind and eyes were always
active he became interested in studying human nature about him. Some
peculiar actions on the part of three men seated on a bench opposite
him attracted his attention and caused him to utter an exclamation.
What seemed queer to the mind of Frank was the fact that one of the
trio, a slouch-shouldered, furtive-eyed man, after some confidential
talk with the two others, took up his satchel from the floor. He
glanced keenly all about him to see that he was not observed. Then a
crafty smile came to his lips as he partly reversed the satchel. To the
amazement of Frank the satchel appeared to have no bottom.
Some coiling springs seemed to fill the inside space. The man chuckled
as he righted the satchel again. One of his companions laughed and the
other slapped him on the shoulder as though it were all a great joke.
Then the three men walked towards the waiting trains. Frank felt that
somehow the incident was suspicious. He wondered if the hollow satchel
might not after all be some new invention. But just then the professor
put in an appearance.
He swung a satchel in one hand and seemed flustered as he rushed to the
ticket office and thence with Frank to the train.
“Just made it!” he explained, sinking breathlessly into a seat. “Got
sort of bothered.”
“How was that, Professor Barrington?” inquired Frank.
“Why, I’ve told you I bungled into talking over my plans with a man
who, I am now convinced, was bent upon stealing my ideas. When I went
back to my hotel I noticed this fellow skulking about the entrance.
When I came down from my room to get my satchel, the hotel clerk said
someone had been to him asking when I was leaving and where I was
going. I don’t like the look of things.”
“You are probably rid of the man, now you are leaving the city,”
suggested Frank.
“I sincerely hope so,” returned the professor, with a relieved sigh.
“Now we’re by ourselves and comfortable, let us have a thorough talk
over our affairs.”
There was a double seat directly behind the one they were in, occupied
by a lady and her two children. The little ones were romping and noisy,
and after a glance at these neighbors the professor plunged into his
subject, not fearful of any eavesdroppers. He had carelessly thrown his
satchel in the space behind the seat, just off the aisle. One of its
straps had come loose and trailed forward under the seat.
Frank had placed his foot on this. He had no right to suggest or
interfere with the personal affairs of his companion, but a memory of
what the professor had said about the valuable contents of the satchel
in the safe at the hotel, led Frank to wonder if this was the one. In
his engrossed way the professor might have lost sight of the necessity
of keeping guard over his treasures. Frank pressed his toe against the
buckle on the end of the loose strap and resolved to keep it there.
Professor Barrington was a very entertaining man when he conversed on
his pet subject. As he related the slow, patient and careful work he
had done to have at command movies parties all over the world, ready
for any rush order he might give, Frank was amazed.
“Think of it!” remarked the professor, “the photo play speaks the
silent but universal language of sight, and the eventual triumph of
motion photography is the educational film. I can see this movement
lead to education in schools, exhibitions, in conventions.
“I can see marvels of nature we have heretofore only read about brought
right into natural action before our eyes. I have already forty-two
thousand feet of negatives, including the split reels. I have in view
double that volume, and not a film to be released to outsiders until
we have gathered the first cream of profit and popularity. It will
startle you, my young friend--more, it will thrill you, when you go
into the details of the outfit gathered and gathering. Did you know,”
demanded the professor, “that there are insects that wash their faces,
just as humans do?”
“Why, no, sir--” began Frank.
“You shall see the proof of it, taken from nature. Of course you know
what the telepathic sense means?”
“As I take it, it is the ability of dumb creatures to use a mysterious
sixth sense that enables them to scent danger at a distance or
communicate with one another.”
“Right--especially with ants,” responded the professor. “In Africa
scientists have marvelled that an army of these intelligent little
creatures should halt in a second when their leader strikes an
obstacle. This is done with system and order, when the last ant is half
a mile distant and shut out of sight of the head of the procession by a
hill or some other object.”
“That seems wonderful,” remarked Frank.
“Well,” declared Professor Barrington, triumphantly, “I have solved
the mystery. I have had photographs taken with such an insect army in
motion. It took twenty machines to catch the subject, but the film is
made continuous. The king ant halted at a stream. Instantly it shot out
a hind foot. Almost as quickly as electricity the ant next behind and
those beyond it transmitted that signal down down the line. We estimate
that it took just fifty-four seconds to deliver the ‘Halt’ message to
the last ant. The photo, magnified, shows the most interesting kicking
picture you ever saw.”
For over an hour the professor kept up such an interesting discourse
that Frank was charmed. The train was slowing up, and the professor,
leaning close to Frank, was pouring into his ear a description of a
leaping kangaroo film among his treasures, when Frank straightened up
suddenly and fixed his eye upon a man who had just left his seat and
was coming down the aisle.
In a flash Frank recognized him as the person he had seen at the city
railway station with the hollow satchel. The fellow carried the article
now. He swung along as if it was heavy, which Frank knew could not be
the case. He stumbled as he passed the seat containing the professor
and Frank and seemed to momentarily drop his satchel to the floor as if
to regain his balance.
Frank’s nerves thrilled as the man picked up his satchel again. A jerk
moved the strap upon which Frank had his foot. He arose quickly and
turned his head. The professor’s satchel was gone!
The man, who Frank knew in a flash must have taken it up inside his
“patent” satchel, was hurrying to the door of the car. With a bound our
young hero, guessing at the shrewd trick attempted, was after him.
“Hold on, there!” shouted Frank, so sharply that he attracted the
attention of everyone in the coach.
“Meaning me?” retorted the fellow he was after, as Frank ran up to him
and grabbed one arm.
“Yes, I do,” cried Frank. “You just took a satchel from behind that
seat yonder and I want it.”
“Nonsense! What are you talking about?” shouted the man. “Don’t delay
me. This is my station. Let go!” But Frank had slipped his hand down
to the satchel the man swung about, and deftly reversing it, unset the
stolen satchel from the coiling springs that had caught it up and held
it.
“You meddler!” he hissed savagely. The man saw that he was unmasked and
outwitted, and with a vicious swing brought his own satchel against
Frank’s head. The latter went spinning to the floor, but he held on to
the professor’s property.
“Astonishing!” exclaimed his fellow-traveler, arising in wonder to his
feet. “Stop that man!” But the fellow whom Frank had baffled darted for
the rear door of the car, leaped outside, slammed it shut after him and
sprang to the platform of the station before the train stopped.
A dozen curious passengers questioned Frank as to the details of the
strange incident they had noticed.
“A slick thief with a trick satchel,” Frank explained, briefly. “Keep
tight hold of your property, Professor,” he told his mystified friend.
The train halted only for a moment to let off a few passengers. Frank
had gone to the car platform. He leaned from it, gazing keenly down the
length of the platform to see if he could find any trace of the thief.
The latter was nowhere in sight, however, until after the train had
started. Then Frank saw him come into view around the distant end of
the depot building. The fellow made some motions with his hands as if
conveying a signal to someone. Frank turned and sharply took in the
interior of the car. He saw a man just shutting down a window. He had
not noticed this person before. Now he recognized him as one of the
men who had been with the thief in the city railway station.
“The professor’s fears are well founded, it seems,” reflected Frank.
“There has been a plot afoot to get possession of that satchel. Well,
the schemers haven’t done it so far. I don’t think they will get it if
I can help it.”
Frank found the professor seated with the rescued satchel in his
lap, holding it tightly in both hands. He looked both bewildered and
timorous.
“That fellow was trying to steal my satchel!” he declared, in a
nervous, alarmed way. “Mr. Durham, that means something.”
“Yes,” assented Frank, “I suppose he singled out your satchel with a
purpose.”
“You mean he has followed us from New York with the intent of depriving
me of my property?” asked the professor.
“It looks that way, sir,” answered Frank, gravely.
“It is a good thing you were with me,” said Professor Barrington, with
a grateful look. “Audacious! Unheard of! Dear me! What villainy there
is in the world!”
Frank felt that all was safe now, and tried to allay the concern of his
companion. He thought it best not to alarm the latter by revealing his
suspicion that the man six seats ahead of them was probably a member of
the group that was after that precious satchel.
Frank kept his eye on this man, who pretended to be absorbed in a
newspaper. He showed no outward sign that the incident had affected or
interested him. Frank was about to ask the professor to walk to the
front end of the car and take a look at the man’s face, when there came
a sharp whistle from the locomotive.
Almost instantly the brakes were set. There was a grinding jar, then a
shock and a crash. Frank realized that something was coming and grasped
the seat brace.
Not so the professor. As the train came to an abrupt stop amid the
jangle of broken glass and parting timbers, he was lifted from his seat
violently. He shot past Frank and landed in the aisle like a lump of
clay.