Frank Merriwell's New Comedian: or, The Rise of a Star. Standish Burt L.
what’s the matter with you, Hodge. Forget it, forget it!”
“I think you are likely to forget some things altogether too early, Merriwell. For instance, some of your enemies.”
“What’s the use to remember unpleasant things?”
“They remember you. One of them did so to an extent that he helped ruin the first presentation of your play.”
“How?”
“It isn’t possible that you have forgotten the lying notices circulated all over this city, stating that you were not the real Frank Merriwell, accusing you of being a fake and a thief?”
Something like a shadow settled on Merry’s strong face.
“No, I have not forgotten,” he declared, “I remember all that, and I’d like to know just who worked the game.”
“It was a gol-dinged measly trick!” exploded Ephraim.
“You thought it would not hurt you, Frank,” said Hodge. “You fancied it would serve to advertise you, if anything. It may have advertised you, but it did you damage at the same time. When the audience saw everything was going wrong, it grew angry and became convinced that it was being defrauded. Then you had trouble with that big ruffian who climbed over the footlights with the avowed purpose of breaking up the show.”
“Oh, well,” smiled Merry, in a peculiar way, “that fellow went right back over the footlights.”
“Yes, you threw him back. That quieted the audience more than anything else, for it showed that you were no slouch, even if you were a fake.”
“Oh, I suppose I’ll find out some time just who did that little piece of advertising for me.”
“Perhaps so; perhaps not.”
Tap, tap, tap – a knock on the door.
“Come!” Frank called.
The door opened, and Billy Wynne, the property man, looked in.
“Letter for you, Mr. Merriwell,” he said.
Frank took the letter, and Wynne disappeared, after being thanked for bringing it.
“Excuse me,” said Merry, and he tore open the envelope.
A moment later, having glanced over the letter, he whistled.
“News?” asked Bart.
“Just a note from the gentleman we were speaking of just now,” answered Frank. “It’s from the party who gave me the free advertising.”
“Waal, I’ll be kicked by a blind kaow!” exploded Gallup. “An’ did he hev ther gall to write to ye?”
“Yes,” said Frank. “Listen to this.”
Then he read the letter aloud.
“Mr. Frank Merriwell.
“Dear Sir: By this time you must be aware that you are not the greatest thing that ever happened. You received it in the neck last night, and I aided in the good work of knocking you out, for I circulated the ‘warning’ notice which denounced you as an impostor, a deadbeat and a thief. The public swallowed it all, and, in disguise, I was at the theater to witness your downfall. It was even greater than I had dared hope it would be. I understand the managers in other towns have canceled with you, Folansbee has declined to back your old show any longer, and you are on the beach. Ha! ha! ha! This is revenge indeed. You are knocked out at last, and I did it. You’ll never appear again as the marvelous young actor-playwright, and the name of Frank Merriwell will sink into oblivion. It is well. Yours with satisfaction,
“I knew well enough it was that dirty rascal who did the job!” cried Hodge, springing up. “The cur!”
“Waal, dinged if he hadn’t oughter be shot!” burst from Gallup. “An’ he knows Folansbee’s gone back on ye.”
“It’s no use, Frank,” said Hodge, disconsolately; “you are done for. The story is out. Folansbee has skipped us, and – ”
“He has not skipped us. He’s simply decided to go out of the theatrical business. It was a fad with him, anyhow. As long as everything was going well, he liked it; but I see he is a man who cannot stand hard luck. He is changeable and that makes him a mighty poor man to back a venture. It takes a man with determination and a fixed purpose to win at anything. Changing around, jumping from one thing to another, never having any clear ideas is enough to make a failure of any man. Folansbee doesn’t need to follow the show business for a living. He went into it because it fascinated him. The glamour is all worn off now, and he is ready to get out if it. Let him go.”
“It’s all right to say let him go, but what are you going to do without him? You are talking about putting your play out again, but how will you do it?”
“I’ll find a way.”
“That is easier said than done. You have been lucky, Frank, there is no question about that. You can’t be that lucky all the time.”
“There are more ways than one to catch an angel.”
“I rather think you’ll find that angels are not so thick. Once in a while there is a soft thing who is ready to gamble with his money by putting it behind a traveling theatrical company, but those soft things are growing scarcer and scarcer. Too many of them have been bitten.”
“Still, I have a feeling that I’ll find a way to succeed.”
“Of course you can advertise for a partner to invest in a ‘sure thing,’ and all that, but those games are too near fraud. Rascals have worked those schemes so much that honest men avoid them.”
“I shall not resort to any trickery or deception. If I catch an ‘angel’ I shall get one just as I obtained Folansbee, by telling him all the risks and chances of failure.”
“Well, you’ll not get another that way.”
“Darned if I ain’t afraid now!” nodded Ephraim. “But Mr. Folansbee’s goin’ to take keer of this comp’ny, ain’t he? He’s goin’ to take it back to Denver?”
“He has agreed to do so.”
At this moment there was another sharp rap on the door, which, happening to be near, Frank opened.
Cassie Lee walked in, followed by Roscoe Havener, the soubrette and the stage manager of “For Old Eli,” Cassie showed excitement.
“Well, what do you think of him?” she cried.
“Of whom – Havener?” asked Merry,
“No, Folansbee.”
“What about him?”
“He’s skipped.”
“Skipped?”
“Sure thing. Run away.”
“Impossible!”
“It’s a straight fact,” declared the little soubrette.
“There’s no doubt of it,” corroborated Havener.
“Waal, may I be tickled to death by grasshoppers!” ejaculated Gallup.
“This caps the whole business!” burst from Hodge.
“I can’t believe that,” said Merriwell, slowly. “How do you know, Havener?”
“His baggage is gone. Garland and Dunton traced him to the station. They were just in time to see him board an eastbound train as it pulled out. He has deserted us.”
CHAPTER II. – DARKNESS AND DAWN
Frank could not express his astonishment.
“I can’t believe it,” he repeated. “Folansbee would not do such a thing.”
Hodge laughed shortly, harshly.
“You have altogether too much confidence in human nature, Merry,” he said. “I never took much stock in this Folansbee.