by Fred Thorpe
CHAPTER XVII.
"I WANT YOU."
"I thought I should find you here," the manager said. "I want to offeryou my congratulations before I say another word."
"Your congratulations upon what, Mr. Wattles?" asked Al.
"Why, upon the way you have worked things here, of course. I heard aboutit before I left Boomville this morning. That interview is out ofsight."
"I wish it was," groaned Al.
"Eh?"
The boy expressed his opinion of the interview in very emphatic terms.
"Well," said Mr. Wattles, when he had finished, "you're 'way off in yourideas on that point. Why, the interview is great. I supposed you hadtaken the reporter out and got him full."
"The interview didn't cost me a cent."
"That's so much the better. I'm mighty glad it appeared, and you oughtto be, too. It'll help biz; and how do you know but that through it youmay find your sister?"
"That's not possible," said Al. "Why, the facts are all distorted. Myfather never had any palatial country seat in Tarrytown; there wasnever any talk of a rejected suitor of my mother's; there----"
"Never mind," interrupted Mr. Wattles; "it's a good ad., anyway, and wegot it for nothing. You mustn't be so thin-skinned, my boy. You seehere"--in a changed tone--"that ad. of yours in the _Bugle_ must havecost a young fortune. You ought to have consulted me by wire before youdid that. The idea is a good one, and everyone is talking about it, butit will not be worth to us what it cost."
"How much do you suppose I paid for it, sir?"
"Oh, I don't know; three hundred at least, probably more."
"It cost just fifty dollars; and if it is not worth that to you, I'llpay it out of my own pocket."
"Fif---- Is that straight?"
"Certainly."
"How did you do it?"
Al explained.
"Well, that was a mighty good transaction, and you deserve credit forit, as well as for writing the ad. The new paper was selling like hotcakes on the train this morning, and everyone was reading that ad. Al,my boy, you're a genius!"
"Not quite that, I guess," laughed the boy.
"You are, I tell you. But who is the queer old man in the third row ofthe orchestra?"
"A myth, a creation of my imagination."
"I supposed so, though I did not know but you had hired some one to playthe part."
"No."
"Well, there'll be lots of people out to see the old man. How did youhappen to strike the idea?"
"I don't know. I had to get the copy ready in a hurry, and I wantedsomething new and taking."
"Well, you got it. I believe that ad. and the interview are going toproduce results."
They did; though some of the results were quite different from those Mr.Wattles and his advance agent expected.
While Al went into the restaurant for breakfast, his employer hurried tothe theater to inquire about the advance sale.
He returned an hour later, flushed and excited.
"Well?" questioned the boy.
"Well, we've caught 'em again. Half the house is already sold, and thatmeans a crowd to-night. The local manager says you're a corker."
Al laughed.
"He didn't think so yesterday."
"He does now. He's going to try to get you to stay here under hisemploy."
"I shall not do it."
"I told him you wouldn't, but he's going to make you an offer, anyhow.Oh, by the way!"
"What is it, sir?"
"I nearly forgot that Miss Gladys March, who, with the rest of thecompany, came with me this morning, is very anxious to have a talk withyou."
"With me? Aren't you mistaken, Mr. Wattles?"
"No; she asked me to tell you as soon as I saw you, but I did not thinkof it."
"What can she want of me?"
"I give it up."
"I don't know her; I never spoke to her in my life."
"So I thought. Well, the best way to find out what she wants is to goand ask her. You'll find her upstairs in her room."
"I'll go at once."
A few minutes later Al presented himself at the door of Miss March'sroom and knocked rather timidly.
"Come in," said a sweet voice, which the boy recognized as that of theyoung actress.
He entered the room.
Miss March, who was seated by the window, rose to meet him.
"I supposed that it was one of the servants," she said, with a sweetsmile, "or I should have welcomed you at the door. Please be seated."
The young girl's perfect self-possession embarrassed Al a little. Hestammered out something about its being of no consequence, and seatedhimself on the extreme edge of the sofa.
Certainly Miss March was a very beautiful girl; unlike many actresses,she looked prettier off the stage than on it.
"I suppose," she began, "that you wonder why I have requested the favorof this interview."
"I am a little curious to know," Al admitted.
"When I have told you, I suppose you will think me a very foolish girl;probably I am. But I cannot leave a stone unturned."
She paused, evidently agitated. What new mystery was this? Al askedhimself.
"I have read the interview with you in this morning's Rockton _Banner_,"went on the young lady.
"I'm sorry to hear that," said the boy, bluntly.
"Why?"
"Because there are scarcely ten words of truth in it."
A genuine look of disappointment appeared upon Miss March's face.
"I am very sorry to hear you say that," she said.
Al stared at her in surprise.
"You surely did not believe all that stuff, Miss March?"
"Not all of it, of course," replied the girl, with a faint smile; "butthere was one part that I thought might be true."
"What part?"
"About your sister, who was stolen in infancy."
"It is true," said Al, "that my sister was stolen."
"Ah!" interrupted the young lady, with an appearance of agitation thatthe boy could not understand.
"But the facts were so twisted and distorted that the story is verydifferent from the truth."
"What is the truth?"
Al hesitated.
"Believe me," said Miss March, "I do not ask from mere idle curiosity. Ihave a most important reason for putting the question. Will you not tellme the story?"
Her agitation communicated itself to her companion; the boy's voicetrembled slightly as he replied:
"Certainly, Miss March; for I feel that you have some strong motive fordesiring to hear it."
"Believe me, I have. Go on, I beg of you."
Al was about to speak when the door was thrown open and a rough-lookingman strode into the room.
"I thought I should find you here," he said, addressing our hero.
"Who are you, and what do you want?" demanded the boy.
"I'm a deputy sheriff, and I want you. I have a warrant for yourarrest."