ON BOSTON COMMON
Professor Barrington jumped to his feet as though he had received an
electric shock. He fumbled about for his glasses, adjusted them and
then stared at Frank.
“You can’t mean it, Durham,” he declared, quaveringly. “The satchel all
right? I’m to get it back?”
“Yes, sir, I promise that,” returned Frank. “I didn’t want to bother
you, Professor Barrington, with all you had on your mind. Besides, I
wasn’t sure of my ground until after you had gone to sleep. I will
explain, if you like.”
“You’ve dazed me,” declared the professor, sinking to a seat. “I can’t
understand it at all.”
“It is very simple,” stated Frank, but there was pride in his tone.
“You see, what you did when you left the hotel in New York City was to
pick up a satchel which did not belong to you.”
“Dear me!” gasped the professor. “Just like me. I declare! My wits
will go wool-gathering some day and get me into all kinds of trouble.
Stupidity--unutterable!” and the old gentleman gave his head a sharp
crack with his hand.
“The idea came to me when I found an envelope in that satchel there,”
continued Frank. “It bore the address of a lady at the hotel you had
just left. I got the hotel on long distance. Your mistake----”
“Incalculable blockheadedness!” corrected the professor.
“Your mistake,” went on Frank, mildly, “had already been discovered
by the clerk. He did not know where to reach you, but when I took the
liberty of ’phoning to him as your representative, we straightened out
affairs at once. He will ship your satchel by the first express. I must
get this one back to its owner.”
Professor Barrington was moving about the room briskly when Frank
returned, after expressing the satchel that had gone through so many
adventures. He rubbed his hands together in a pleased way and beamed on
Frank with satisfaction as he remarked:
“I’ve been told I ought to have a guardian; you have proven it, Durham.
I declare, it was fortunate I had you with me. You see, those fellows
who followed us on the train are a desperate lot.”
“There is no doubt that they are a dangerous crowd,” assented Frank.
“And they won’t let us alone now, I’ll warrant,” observed the
professor. “If I didn’t know I was in such safe and able hands, I
believe I’d call in the police for protection.”
“There will be no occasion for that, I fancy,” responded Frank. “I
believe as you do that these men realize that you have an idea of
value and want to steal it from you. That comes up every day, though,
especially in the movies line. Everybody in that field is trying to get
ahead of his neighbor. We must expect lots of rivalry. Of course you
would know the man you met in New York City who pretended to be able to
help you in your plans?”
“Oh, yes, I should recognize him on sight,” the professor assured
Frank. “He knows my plans, and he knows that the elaborate outline of
its details in my satchel is well worth stealing. He doesn’t know the
main essential of my project, however.”
“You mean, Professor?” queried Frank.
“The big chance there is in getting an ideal location here in which to
start the educational photo playhouse.”
“You have got that; have you?” asked Frank, very much interested.
“I certainly have,” replied the professor, with manifest pride. “I
saw at once at the outset that there might be some difficulty in
introducing a new kind of motion picture feature to the public. I spent
fully two months in deciding as to the best city. Of course it was
Boston.”
“A very wise choice, I should say,” agreed Frank.
“Then I also knew that location was everything. I devoted days and days
to visiting every section of the city. It was an educational experience
for me and brought me against many practical, business facts. At one
time I fancied I must locate in a very cultured neighborhood and hire a
prim, eminently respectable hall. Then for a spell I favored a location
near several educational institutions.
“It dawned on me, though, that my possible patrons would be
comparatively few in number; that maybe they had already a surfeit of
learning. So, I decided on one point--it was that if I couldn’t in some
way interest the masses and popularize my project as an entertainment,
I couldn’t make a lasting success of it.”
“I think your idea was a good one,” commented Frank.
“Thank you, Durham,” replied the professor, “and I think a great deal
of your good judgment. Well, I finally determined that there was one
best location and that was on Boston Common.”
“Why, Professor Barrington,” spoke Frank, “can it be done?”
“It can,” answered the professor, positively. “It’s taken some digging
to find that out, but I accomplished what I was after. It is true that
Boston Common is a limited and very exclusive bit of territory, but it
is changing, as all business centers do, and the quick and ready man
with capital can get his opportunity by watching out for it and acting
quickly when the right time comes.
“I’ve brought you down here because I’ve got to decide on a location
within the next two days or lose my option on a most valuable lease.
I don’t expect you and your people to go into this thing blindfolded,
although you’ve got to act quickly. I suggest that we fortify ourselves
with a good breakfast. Then I will take you for a stroll, that will
show you the exact situation far better than I can tell it to you.”
“That will be fine, Professor Barrington,” said Frank. “I shall be
interested in more ways than one, as this is my first view of Boston.”
Everything seemed going so smoothly now that the professor was as gay
as a schoolboy on a lark. As they reached Tremont street just opposite
the Common, Frank halted involuntarily, caught by the novelty of the
scene. His first glance singled out several playhouses already located
there. His companion pointed out the Temple, given over to educational
exhibitions, concerts and the like; a well-known vaudeville theater,
and several popular playhouses.
“There’s the subway to Cambridge, on Tremont street,” explained the
professor, “and that is the State House at the far end of the Common.
This is the hub of Boston, just as the city itself is the ‘Hub of the
Universe.’”
Frank as yet knew little of the city, but he was quick-witted enough
to realize that the professor had selected a fine location for his
enterprise. The places of entertainment already established, the
presence of the crowds, the general environment decided Frank, just
as it had done when he had picked out the vacant structure on upper
Broadway in New York City that had become the best venture of the
moving picture chums--the Empire.
“Yes,” observed Frank, thoughtfully, “location is everything. I am at
your command, Professor Barrington, to go through with the proposition
as speedily and thoroughly as possible.”
“There are two places on the Common that are available,” explained the
professor, “although the fact is not generally known. We will take in
the first one, as it is nearest at hand. Here we are,” announced the
speaker, stepping to the curb out of the way of passing pedestrians and
halting his companion by his side.
They faced a narrow building of an old type. It was not yet open, but
the lettering on the windows apprised Frank of the fact that it was a
large stationers’ supply store.
“The people here are going to move as soon as their new building on
Washington street is ready for them,” spoke the professor. “The place
is not yet on the market, but the present occupants are anxious to
transfer their lease.”
“Why,” remarked Frank, “the place does not strike me very favorably. It
is narrow, it can’t be of very great depth and would not hold much of
an audience.”
“Oh, well, I never thought seriously of it,” explained the professor.
“There’s some kind of a warehouse at the rear goes with it. I just
mentioned it because it is one of the only two places on the Common
where there is the slightest chance of getting space.”
“And the other place?” questioned Frank, who was not at all impressed
with the one just inspected.
Professor Barrington led the way for about a square. A double building
used as a restaurant finally faced them. The depth was fair, it showed
plenty of floor space, but, unfamiliar as he was with the city, Frank
did not like the location. The structure suggested business rather than
entertainment. It was out of the amusement belt.
“How do you like it?” questioned Professor Barrington, eagerly.
“To tell you the truth, it appears sort of lonely and isolated to me.”
“But look at the roominess!” urged the professor.
“That is something; but not everything,” replied Frank. “The place
would have to be remodeled, and in constructing an attractive entrance
and rounding the stage end so all of the audience can see the pictures,
a good deal of room must be used up.”
“You must remember, Durham, that you might not find as large a space as
that again on the Common within the next ten years. You see--”
In the midst of his earnest championship of his pet location, the
professor came to so abrupt a pause that Frank was startled. His
companion had grasped his arm violently. With his other hand he pointed
at two passing men.
“Look--look sharp, Durham,” he whispered in a low, quick tone, “there’s
the man I spoke about; the fellow I told my scheme to in New York City.”
Frank’s glance swept the two persons. The one nearest to him he
recognized at once as the man who had sat in the same car with them on
the train and who had stolen the satchel.
It was the companion of this person at whom the professor was pointing.
In a flash Frank identified this individual.
“Why,” he said instantly, “that is Slavin!”