The Rover Boys Megapack

by Edward Stratemeyer

  “Oh, business is all right enough,” answered Dick. And then he looked meaningly at his brothers.

  “The trouble with us is, we’ve been very unfortunate,” broke in Tom, before the others could stop him. “We’ve just suffered a tremendous loss.”

  “Is that so? In what way?”

  Before answering, Tom looked at Dick. “Shall I tell him?” he questioned, in a low tone.

  “You might as well, since you have gone so far,” was the reply. “In fact, I don’t know that it will do much good to keep still any longer.”

  “We’ve been robbed.”

  “You don’t say so! Did you lose much?”

  “We lost sixty-four thousand dollars’ worth of bonds,” answered Sam.

  “Oh, a bad business deal, I presume.” And Barton Pelter smiled grimly. “That’s the way it is in Wall Street. You are up one day, and down the next. That’s the way it was with my uncle.”

  “No, we didn’t lose the bonds that way,” answered Dick. “They were stolen.”

  “Stolen! From where?”

  “From our office.”

  “Why, that’s the worst I ever heard!” declared Barton Pelter, with interest. “Who was it? Did some fellow sneak into your offices and take them?”

  “We don’t know how the robbery took place,” answered Tom. “My brother put the bonds in a japanned box that was locked, and put the box in the once safe one afternoon. The next morning when he opened the safe, the box with the bonds was gone.”

  “What’s that!” exclaimed the listener, excitedly. “You had them in a box, and put the box in your safe? Do you mean the safe that was in the offices when my uncle and Mr. Japson had it?”

  “Sure! it’s the same safe,” answered Dick.

  “Well, what do you know about that!” gasped Barton Pelter. His face showed increasing interest. “When was all this?”

  “Just about a week ago.”

  “Haven’t you any clews to the robbery?”

  “Nothing very much,” answered Dick, before either of his brothers could speak. “A girl saw a man leaving the building the evening of the robbery, but who he was, she did not know.”

  “And you say the box was put in the safe my uncle used to own?” went on the young man. “Of course it was locked?”

  “Yes.”

  “Was it—er—er—was it—er—that is, did you have the same combination on it that the lock used to have?” stammered the other.

  “No. I had the combination changed.”

  “And you haven’t got the least idea then who took the bonds?” questioned Barton Pelter.

  “Not so far.”

  “It’s strange. Say, that’s a fierce loss! I couldn’t lose that much;” and the young man laughed nervously.

  “Are you working in New York?” asked Tom, following an awkward pause.

  “I haven’t anything to do just now, but I am hoping to get a situation soon,” answered Barton Pelter. “I’ve got to be going now,” he added, and after a few words more, he made his way to the elevated station at the entrance to the Brooklyn Bridge.

  “Evidently a pretty decent sort of a fellow,” was Dick’s comment, as the three brothers walked over to look at the newspaper bulletin boards. “It’s too bad he has Jesse Pelter for an uncle.”

  “That news about our robbery seemed to astonish him,” said Sam. “Did you hear him ask about the combination on the safe? He must have been wondering whether we suspected his uncle or Japson.”

  “That isn’t strange,” was Tom’s comment, “when one knows what kind of rascals those two men are.”

  With the shadow of the loss hanging over them the Rover boys were in no mood to amuse themselves. Had it been otherwise, they might have gone to the theater or some concert, or possibly to some moving picture show. But, as it was, they spent most of their time at the offices and the hotel, and in looking around for clews.

  “I received two nice letters today,” said Dora that evening, when her husband and the others appeared, and she held up the missives. “One is from mamma, and she sends her best love to all of you. The other is from your Aunt Martha.”

  “And what does she say about dad?” asked Dick, quickly.

  “She says there is no change in his general condition, but that he continues to worry about business matters. He wants to make sure that everything here, in New York City, is going along all right.”

  “Poor, old dad!” murmured Tom, and his voice was full of sympathy. “We certainly can’t let him know the truth.”

  “Oh, not for the world, Tom!” cried Dora.

  “But what are we going to do if the bonds are not found?” questioned Dick. “He has got to know it some time.”

  “Well, put it off as long as you can,” returned his wife.

  “Oh, if we could only find those bonds!” exclaimed Sam. “We’ve just got to do it! We’ve got to!”

  CHAPTER XXI

  DAYS OF ANXIOUS WAITING

  Another week passed without bringing anything new to light concerning the missing bonds. During that time the Rover boys received two visits from the headquarters’ detectives, and were again subjected to innumerable questions.

  “We’re on a new tack,” said one of the sleuths. “I think we’ll be able to report something to you in a few days.”

  “You can’t do it too quickly,” returned Dick.

  “Oh, I know that,” answered the detective, with a short laugh; and then he and his companion backed themselves out.

  “Say, Dick, I don’t take much stock in those fellows,” was Tom’s comment. “They are good at talking, but it looks to me as if they didn’t know where they were at.”

  “Exactly the way I look at it!” broke in Sam.

  During that time the boys also received visits from several private detectives, all anxious to take hold of the case, but none of them willing to do so without first receiving a generous retainer.

  “I am not going to pay out anything in advance,” Dick told one of these fellows—a shabby looking chap. “You locate the bonds, and you’ll be well paid for it.”

  “I don’t work unless I’m paid for it,” snapped the detective, and left the offices quite indignant.

  “I suppose we could get a thousand detectives on this case if we were willing to put up the money,” said Tom.

  “It might pay to hire some first-class man,” ventured Sam, “but not that sort.”

  “I’ll call up Mr. Powell and see what he thinks of it,” answered Dick. And a little later he was in communication with Songbird’s uncle over the telephone.

  “It wouldn’t do any harm to put some first-class man on the case,” said the lawyer. “If you wish me to do so, I’ll put you in touch with the best detective agency in the city.”

  As a result of this talk, the Rovers obtained the address of a detective whose name is well-known in every large city of the United States. This man called on them the following day, and went over the case very carefully with the youths. He examined the safe and the combination lock, and then had a long talk with Kitty Donovan and her father and her mother, and also a talk with the old man who kept the little fruit stand downstairs.

  “I’ll do all I can, Mr. Rover,” he said, when he re-entered the offices, “but you mustn’t expect too much. This is certainly a mystery.”

  “Mr. Bronson is the most intelligent detective I’ve seen yet,” said Sam, after the man had departed. “He handles the case as if it was a strict business proposition.”

  “That’s what I like to see,” declared Tom. “The other kind of detective is good enough for a dime or a half-dime story book, but he never makes any success of it in real life.”

  It must not be supposed that now they were in New York, Tom and Sam had forgotten the Laning girls. They had written to Nellie and Grace, forwarding the letter
s to Cedarville because Hope Seminary was on the point of closing for the season.

  “Letters for both of you!” cried Dora, when they and Dick appeared at the hotel one evening after a rather strenuous day in the offices, where all had been busy forming their plans for further investments.

  “Good for you, Dora!” answered Tom, and held out his hand eagerly.

  “Now wouldn’t you like to have it?” she answered mischievously, holding a letter just out of his reach.

  “Where is mine?” demanded Sam.

  “Oh, I thought you wouldn’t want that so I tore it up,” she answered, with a twinkle in her eyes.

  “If you don’t give me that letter, Dora, something is going to happen to you,” went on Tom; and now he caught her by the wrist. “You know the forfeit—a kiss!”

  “All right, take your letter, Mr. Can’t-Wait,” she returned, and handed him the missive.

  “But you said you had one for me!” broke in Sam. “Come now, Dora, don’t be mean.”

  “Oh, Sam, it’s only a bill.”

  “A bill! You are fooling!” And then as his face fell, she did not have the heart to tease him longer, and brought the letter forth from her handbag.

  As the lads had anticipated, the communications were from Grace and Nellie. In them the girls said that the session at the seminary was over, and that the day previous they had returned to their home on the outskirts of Cedarville. Both had passed in their examinations, for which they were exceedingly thankful.

  “But they haven’t found that four-hundred-dollar diamond ring yet,” said Sam, after he had finished his letter. “It certainly is a shame!”

  “It’s as great a mystery as the disappearance of our bonds,” was Dick’s comment.

  “What has Nellie to say about it, Tom?” questioned Dora, anxiously; for even though she was married and away from them, her two cousins were as dear to her as ever.

  “She doesn’t say very much,” answered Tom. “No one has seen or heard anything about the ring.”

  “But what of Miss Harrow? How has she treated Nellie since the fire?”

  “She says Miss Harrow has not been very well, and consequently did not take part in the final examinations. Now the teacher has gone to Asbury Park, on the New Jersey coast, to spend the summer.”

  “Perhaps that mystery never will be solved,” said Sam. “It’s a jolly shame, that’s all I’ve got to say about it!”

  After dinner that evening, as it was exceedingly warm, none of the young folks felt like staying in the hotel. Dick proposed that they take a stroll up Broadway.

  “We can walk till we get tired,” he said, “and then if you feel like it, we can jump into a taxi and take a ride around Central Park before we retire.”

  “That will be nice,” returned Dora; and Tom and Sam said it would suit them, too.

  As usual, upper Broadway—commonly called The Great White Way—was ablaze with electric lights. As the young folks strolled along, the great, flaring advertising signs perched on the tops of many of the buildings interested them greatly.

  “I heard yesterday that some of those signs cost ten thousand dollars and more,” observed Sam. “What a lot of money to put into them!”

  “So it is, Sam. But think of all the money some firms spend in newspaper and magazine advertising,” answered Dick.

  “Some day we’ll have to do some advertising ourselves,” put in Tom. “That is, after we get our business in first-class running order.”

  “And get our bonds back,” added Dick.

  “Oh, say, let’s forget those bonds for just one night!” entreated Sam. “I haven’t been able to get a good night’s sleep since I came here because of them.”

  The portion of Broadway where they were walking, is lined with innumerable theaters and moving picture places. They had passed on less than three blocks further, when Sam suddenly caught Tom by the arm.

  “Here we are, Tom!” he exclaimed, somewhat excitedly. “Here’s that moving picture.”

  “So it is!” returned Tom, and immediately became as interested as his younger brother. They had come to a halt before a gorgeous moving picture establishment, and on one of the billboards they saw exhibited a flashy lithograph, depicting two men struggling in a rowboat with a third man on the shore aiming a gun at one of the others. Over the picture were the words: “His Last Chance. A Thrilling Rural Drama in Two Reels.”

  “What is it, Tom?” questioned Dora.

  “Why, that’s the moving picture play we told you about—the one that we got into at the Oak Run railroad station,” explained the youth. “That picture you see there was taken along the river bank back of our farm. Another picture shows the railroad station at Oak Run, with old Ricks in it, and still another ought to show the railroad train with Sam and me on the back platform. Let us go in and see it.”

  “Why, yes, I want to see that by all means!” declared Dick’s wife. “Won’t it be funny to see you boys in a moving picture!”

  “Well, I don’t know about this,” returned Dick, hesitatingly; and he looked rather quickly at Tom. “Are you quite sure, Tom, that you want to go into a moving picture show?” he went on. He had not forgotten how Tom had once gone to a moving picture exhibition, and been completely carried away by a scene of gold digging in faraway Alaska, nor how his poor brother had for a time lost his mind and wandered off to the faraway territory, as related in detail in “The Rover Boys in Alaska.”

  “Oh, don’t you fear for me, Dick!” cried Tom, hastily. “My head is just as good as it ever was and able to stand a hundred moving picture shows. Come on in, I’ll get the tickets;” and without waiting for an answer, Tom stepped up to the little ticket booth and secured the necessary pasteboards.

  CHAPTER XXII

  THE MOVING PICTURE AGAIN

  The moving picture theater was fairly well filled, but the four managed to obtain seats close to the middle of the auditorium. They had entered while a slap-dash comedy was being depicted—something that set the audience laughing heartily. Then followed a parlor drama, which was more notable for its exhibition of fashions than it was for plot or acting.

  “This sort of thing makes me tired!” was Tom’s comment. “I like to see outdoor life much better.”

  Another one-reel comedy of life on the canal followed the parlor drama, and then there was flashed on the screen the words: “His Last Chance.”

  “Here we are!” murmured Sam, and sat bolt upright with renewed interest, while Tom did likewise. The first scene of the drama showed the interior of a farmhouse sitting-room and kitchen, and the boys easily recognized several of the men they had seen at the river and the railroad station. There followed quite a plot and a number of other scenes around the farm, and also at a stone quarry which all of the lads recognized as being located at Dexter’s Corners. Then came a pretty love scene at the farmhouse, followed by a quarrel between some of the men in an apple orchard.

  “Say, that’s Blinks’ apple orchard, just as sure as fate!” exclaimed Dick, in a low voice.

  “So it is!” answered Sam. “Many’s the time we’ve got apples there!”

  The quarrel in the apple orchard was followed by a fishing scene on the river not far from Humpback Falls, where Sam once upon a time had had such a strenuous adventure. Then of a sudden came the quarrel in the boat followed by the shooting.

  “Say, that looks just as it did when we saw it taken!” exclaimed Sam, enthusiastically. “This moving picture business is a great thing, isn’t it?”

  “It isn’t just as we saw it,” chuckled Tom. “They didn’t show how that fellow who went overboard came up again and swam ashore.”

  “Oh, that would spoil the plot of the play,” answered his younger brother.

  Other scenes in the drama were shown, one in a barnyard full of cows being especially realistic. Then came the scene inside the
railroad station at Oak Run, and all of the boys and Dora laughed heartily when they saw the look of astonishment on old Ricks’ face as he peered through his ticket window at the actor who had come in for a ticket.

  “I’d give a dollar to have old Ricks here looking at himself,” whispered Tom. “Wouldn’t he be surprised?”

  “Oh, look! look!” exclaimed Dora, in a low tone. “Sam and Tom, I do declare!”

  The scene had shifted suddenly, as do all scenes in moving pictures. Now was shown the platform of the Oak Run railroad station. The train was coming in, and there were Sam and Tom as natural as life, dresssuit cases in hand, ready to get aboard. The train stopped and some passengers alighted, and Tom and Sam climbed the steps of the last car.

  “And look! Tom is waving his hand to some one,” went on Dick’s wife. “Isn’t it great!”

  As the train began to move away, one of the leading actors in the drama was seen to rush across the platform and grasp the rail of the last car. As he was holding himself up, another of the persons in the drama rushed after the train, shaking his fist wildly; then the train, with Tom and Sam and the moving picture actor on the back platform, disappeared from view, and in a twinkling the scene shifted back to the farmhouse once more.

  “Well, we’re movies’ actors sure enough!” was Tom’s comment, after they had seen the last of the little drama and were out on Broadway once more. “What do you think of us, Dora?”

  “Oh, it was fine, Tom!” she answered. “I’d like to see it again.”

  “Well, they advertise it for tomorrow, too,” said her husband, “so you can go in the afternoon when we are at the offices.”

  “I’ll certainly do it!”

  “I shouldn’t mind seeing this picture again myself,” said Sam. “If they have it tomorrow night, let’s come up, Tom.”

  “All right, I’m willing. I suppose they are showing the thing all over the country.”

  The next day proved a very busy one for the three Rover boys, and for the time being the moving picture was completely forgotten. About ten o’clock, Mr. Powell came to see them regarding an investment which Anderson Rover had made during the time that Pelter, Japson & Company were his brokers. This investment now called for a further outlay of a little over seven thousand dollars, and the boys had to find some means of raising that amount.