CHAPTER X.MORE ADVENTURES.
Bart followed Merry to his room, and Ephraim trailed along behind. When they were in the room, Merry fell to laughing. Hodge flung himself down on a chair, looking sullen and sour, upon which Frank laughed the harder.
Ephraim sat on the edge of the bed and grinned, but seemed to be in doubt whether he had better laugh or not.
“Come, come, Hodge!” cried Merry. “What’s the use to look that way? It’s all over now.”
Hodge growled something under his breath.
“I should think yeou’d be hoppin’ mad yourself, Frank,” said Ephraim.
“Oh, he laughs at everything!” exploded Bart. “He says I have no sense of humor. Well, I am glad I haven’t if he sees anything funny about this business!”
“Certainly I do see something funny about it,” asserted Merry.
“What is it?”
“The idea of anybody attempting to blackmail an actor—a traveling showman. It is enough to make a horse laugh. I doubt if such a remarkable thing ever happened before.”
Ephraim began to see the affair from Frank’s viewpoint, and his grin broadened with great rapidity.
“By gum!” he cried. “I never thought of that! I guess folks wouldn’t b’lieve it ef yeou was to tell um.”
“Still I fail to see what there is laughable about it,”snapped Bart. “The fellow knew you had money—Vance told him that.”
“Without doubt.”
“And he knew you were young. He fancied you would be easy game. Where is there anything funny about it?”
“I am an actor.”
“But you are a dead easy thing!” declared Bart. “Think of letting that woman go in such a manner!”
“Now, Hodge,” said Frank, with more seriousness, “after I have talked to you a bit, I rather fancy I can make you acknowledge that was the most sensible thing to do.”
“Oh, no, you can’t! You’re forever doing things like that!”
“You know I was in earnest about giving Vance and the other rascal their dues. You know that, Bart.”
“Well, it was a surprise to me.”
“Still you know it, don’t you?”
“You seemed to be ready.”
“Exactly. It was not my fault that they escaped.”
Bart flushed and looked uncomfortable.
“I suppose it was my fault?” he cried, almost resentfully.
“I did not mean that. I do not blame you, Hodge.”
“I thought you did. I’d held onto Vance if those fool men hadn’t interfered. They gave him his chance, and he took it.”
“Waal,” drawled Ephraim, sheepishly. “I own right up, b’gosh! that I was so ’tarnally flustered when that woman began to yoop her up that I didn’t notice nothin’ till the men hed got erway.”
“Which was exactly what the woman wanted,” said Merriwell. “She grabbed me and screamed like that inorder to give the men a chance to skip. They took the chance.”
“Which shows she was just as bad as the men,” said Bart.
“I haven’t a doubt of it,” nodded Frank.
“But you let her get away! Oh, it’s like you!”
“Hodge, do you remember what you said when those men in the parlor were declaring the woman was too refined-looking to be engaged in a blackmailing scheme?”
“Yes. I said they made me sick.”
“That was it. You also said that were she plain and old they would not make such a fuss over her.”
“Yes.”
“Well, old man, at that moment I realized how little chance there was of convicting that woman of blackmail were she arrested. Do you suppose a jury of twelve men would have agreed to convict a young and handsome woman like that?”
Hodge was silent.
“Answer!” exclaimed Frank. “Do you suppose that woman could have been convicted?”
“I doubt it,” admitted Bart.
“That was the very reason I was willing to let her go. I should have been foolish to put myself to the trouble of prosecuting her with every chance against conviction. I knew that.”
Bart jumped up.
“Men are bigger fools than women!” he snapped. “I am beginning to realize that better and better.”
“And you are a woman hater!” laughed Merriwell.
“Don’t fling that at me! A pretty woman will make a fool of a man any day, and it is impossible to find twelve men who will convict a pretty woman of crime if they can help it. Adventuresses know it, and they profit by it. If they are arrested, they work all theirarts on judge and jury, and in nine cases out of ten, they go scot-free. The old fools on the jury ogle the pretty prisoner, and sometimes they openly flirt with her. They sympathize with her because she is young and pretty, and, when the evidence is so strong they cannot acquit her, they disagree. Yes, men are fools!”
Frank nodded.
“That being the case,” he said, “I think you will have to admit that I was wise in letting the woman go.”
“Perhaps so,” acknowledged Hodge; “but I hated to see her get off. She was the chief one in a pretty mean piece of business.”
“I do not think she was the chief one.”
“Then who——”
“Vance.”
“Well, you let him off after he had robbed you.”
“He returned every dollar of the money, and I did not lose anything. A man in my place can’t afford to spend time in lawsuits. It would ruin my plans. Vance seemed thankful to get away, and I hoped we’d not hear anything from him again.”
“You hoped in vain.”
“Yes.”
“We’ll hear from him again.”
“Perhaps.”
“If we do——”
“It will be unfortunate for Lester Vance,” said Merry. “He has reached the limit.”
“By gum!” cried Gallup, staring at Frank. “He wants to keep out of the way naow! When Frank Merriwell looks that way, he’s out fer business.”
Hodge also saw the look on Merry’s face, and he recognized it as the peculiar expression Frank wore whenever his patience was exhausted and he had decided to crush an enemy. And remembering things which hadhappened in the past, Bart knew well enough that Frank could strike an enemy with terrible effect when he wished to do so.
Frank was on his way to the theater that afternoon, swinging along at a lively pace, paying very little attention to anybody, when somebody called:
“Mr. Merriwell.”
He looked up quickly, and saw approaching him a rather good-looking girl of about nineteen. She was rather gaudily attired, and he noticed instantly that she carried some pinks.
“Great Scott!” muttered Merry. “It’s another one of them!”
He waited, although he really felt like running away. The girl came forward smiling. There was something rather saucy in her manner, and he saw there was paint on her cheeks and rouge on her lips. As soon as he discovered this, his desire to hasten away increased.
“Why,” laughed the girl, “you do not seem a bit glad to see me. Perhaps you did not receive my note.”
“I do not know you, miss,” said Merry. “I do not think we have been introduced.”
“Introduced! Ha! ha! ha! What do you care! I’ll introduce myself. I’m Daisy Blaney.”
“Miss Blaney, don’t you think you are rather foolish to speak to a stranger like this?”
“Oh, I guess not! You’re all right. I said that as soon as I saw you come onto the stage last night. I wondered if you looked as well off the stage as you do on it, and by gracious! I believe you look handsomer!”
This was almost too much for Frank. He flushed painfully, which seemed to add to the girl’s enjoyment.
“Miss Blaney!” he said, grimly, “I must say you are rather outspoken in your compliments.”
“It’s a little way I have, my dear fellow. Why, I dobelieve you are blushing! Who ever heard of an actor that blushed! Ha! ha! ha!”
Frank’s embarrassment increased.
“Oh, say!” the girl went on; “don’t look at me that way. What do you care? I wanted to get acquainted with you, and there wasn’t any other way to do it.”
“Then it would have been better not to do it at all. Aren’t you aware you are putting yourself in a very bad light by deliberately seeking the acquaintance of a man and making it in such a manner?”
“Well, if you aren’t a queer actor!” she cried. “I have met lots of them, but I never struck one like you before. Usually they are ready enough to become acquainted.”
“I am afraid you have judged all actors by the ones you have met in this irregular manner. There are honorable men who are actors, the same as there are honorable men in other professions.”
The girl whistled softly.
“Is that so? That’s all right! That’s why I wanted to meet you. I reckoned you were on the dead level.”
“No man who is on the dead level will seek the acquaintance of any young lady in this manner.”
“No? Oh, come off! I’ve met lots of fellows who were all right, and I never had an introduction to them, either. You must have old-fashioned notions in your head, and you are the last chap I’d ever thought had ’em. Why, I took you for a fellow who would be rather lively! You must be dead slow. You need somebody to wake you up.”
“I am afraid you are not slow, miss!” exclaimed Merry, severely.
“No, I’m not. I don’t like slow coaches. Oh, say, Frank, come out of it! What do you take me for?”
“For a very foolish girl, Miss Blaney. I am sorry for you.”
“Sorry! Oh, come off! You must belong to the Y. M. C. A.! By George! I didn’t think you would lecture me!”
“I haven’t time to give you a lecture, but I think you should receive one. I’d like to talk with you a while, for I think I could show you the folly of what you are doing.”
“Are you in earnest?” asked the girl, beginning to show astonishment.
“Never more so in my life.”
“Well, you beat the band! And I thought you were sporty!”
“I hope I am not sporty in the way you mean.”
“You must have wings sprouting! Are you kidding me? What are you doing?”
“I am saying what I mean.”
“And you do not believe in having a good time?”
“On the contrary, I do believe in having a good time. I believe everybody should have a good time.”
“Now you are shouting.”
“But there is a right way to have a good time, and a wrong way. I fancy you often think you are having a good time when you are deceiving yourself. One kind of a good time leads to satisfaction and pleasant memories; another kind of a good time leads to misery and remorse. My dear girl, be careful what kind of a good time you choose to have.”
“Oh, say, you ought to be a preacher! You an actor! You have made a mistake!”
“An actor may be a preacher. He may preach morality in his acting. I believe an actor has the greatest opportunities for doing good by his methods of preaching.”
“Excuse me while I draw my breath! You’ve knocked me silly!”
“I fancy you have met the worst class of actors, Miss Blaney. You thought them all alike.”
“I never saw one before that wasn’t ready enough to make a mash and have a racket.”
Frank saw he was not making much impression on the girl. He had discovered that she was rather bright, for all that she was so reckless in her manner, and he was truly sorry for her.
“I am glad to say all actors are not mashers,” he said, slowly. “I hope none of my company are. My dear girl, you are making the mistake of your life by seeking the acquaintance of strange men in such a manner—by having anything at all to do with strange men. Don’t do it any more. You are good-looking, and I fancy you have a good education. Be careful what you do. By your actions you can win the scorn or the respect of people, just as you choose.”
“Oh, don’t talk to me that way!” she cried, with curling lips. “It’s too late!”
“Why too late?”
“Oh, people think I’m fly, and I can’t change their minds now. I’ve got the name, whether I deserve it or not.”
“Who is to blame? You must have given them reasons for thinking so.”
“Perhaps I have!” she exclaimed, defiantly, all the laughter gone from her face in a moment. “But I did it because they began to talk about me.”
“What did you do to make them talk about you?”
“Oh, I didn’t die! I was ready to have some harmless sport, and they began to say I was gay. That made me mad. I said I would give them something to talk about—and I did!”
“And there was where you made your greatest mistake, my dear girl.”
“Now, don’t talk to me that way. I’ve heard enough of it from other people! I didn’t want to get acquainted with you to be preached at—not by a long shot.”
“Miss Blaney, have you no thought for others? Is there no person whose heart you are breaking by your recklessness? Your mother——”
“Don’t—don’t talk to me about her!”
“Why not?”
“Because—oh, just because!”
“I think I understand. Your mother worries over you. She has tried to talk with you and tell you you were doing wrong. Am I not right?”
“She talked too much. That’s what drove me away from home.”
“Drove you away from home? Then you have left home?”
“Yes.”
“When?”
“A week ago.”
“Do your folks know where you are?”
“Yes.”
“And they let you go?”
“The old man says I needn’t ever come home again.”
“But your mother?”
The girl’s head drooped.
“I suppose mother is all broken up,” she confessed.
“Haven’t you been to see her?”
“Can’t. It’s too far!”
“How is that?”
“We live in Carrolton. I ran away from home.”
Now Merry’s interest was thoroughly aroused.
“How did you happen to come to St. Jo.?” he asked.
“Oh, I’ve got friends here. I’ve been here visitingtwice before. The first time I was here was when I began to flirt with an actor.”
“Miss Blaney, you should return home. Your mother will be glad to see you, and——”
“The old man will kick me out. It’s no use, Frank Merriwell. I think you mean well enough, but you are off your trolley in regard to me. I can’t go back now, and I’m bound to have a good time while there is a good time going. I thought you were sporty, but I see I made a mistake. I reckon I’d better shift along. You are all right—from your head up.”
“Wait a moment. We play in Carrolton to-morrow night. Can I not take a message to your mother from you? Think how she must feel. Can’t I tell her something that will cheer her up?”
“What’s the use?”
“How do you know but her heart is breaking for you? Perhaps she prays for you night and day. Perhaps——”
“Oh, don’t!” cried the girl. “I don’t like to hear about that. No, I won’t send a message by you. The idea that an actor should want to take such a message! Ha! ha! ha! Why, it’s perfectly ridiculous! Ha! ha! ha! ha!”
The girl’s laughter caused him to shiver a bit. It was not the laugh of genuine merriment—it was forced and unnatural.
She was quick to see how it touched him, and she suddenly cried:
“Don’t mind me! I’m not worth it! You have tried to give me some good advice, but it’s a waste of breath. I’m going to do as I like, no matter what comes of it.”
“Whatever you do,” said Frank, with deep earnestness, “don’t forget your mother! When you are having a good time, as you call it, think of your mother. Whenyou are gay, think of your mother, who may be praying for you at that moment. That is all, Miss Blaney. Good-by! I would like to know that some day—very soon—you go back to your mother.”
She was not laughing now. All the false merriment had gone out of her face, leaving it very sober. Something like tears seemed to fill her eyes.
“Good-by,” said Frank, once more.
Without a word, the girl turned swiftly and hurried away, almost running.
“Too bad!” he muttered, as he hurried on to the theater.