CHAPTER IIITHE MISSING SATCHEL
“That’squeer!” said Frank Durham.
He said it to himself, for he was seated alone in the railroad station awaiting the arrival of Professor Barrington. When that personage heard the decision of the young movies leader and his business partners, he was for getting to Boston forthwith. After Frank had glanced at a time-table, the arrangements had been made quickly.
“There is a through express at eleven o’clock,” he reported.
“Then we must make it,” insisted the professor, briskly. “Meet me at the station. I will just have time to go to my hotel, settle up affairs there and get my satchel. That train will land us in Boston in five hours, leaving a chance to do some business there by daylight.”
Then he had departed, and after a brief talk with Mr. Strapp, Frank had made his way tothe railroad station. As his mind and eyes were always active he became interested in studying human nature about him. Some peculiar actions on the part of three men seated on a bench opposite him attracted his attention and caused him to utter an exclamation.
What seemed queer to the mind of Frank was the fact that one of the trio, a slouch-shouldered, furtive-eyed man, after some confidential talk with the two others, took up his satchel from the floor. He glanced keenly all about him to see that he was not observed. Then a crafty smile came to his lips as he partly reversed the satchel. To the amazement of Frank the satchel appeared to have no bottom.
Some coiling springs seemed to fill the inside space. The man chuckled as he righted the satchel again. One of his companions laughed and the other slapped him on the shoulder as though it were all a great joke. Then the three men walked towards the waiting trains. Frank felt that somehow the incident was suspicious. He wondered if the hollow satchel might not after all be some new invention. But just then the professor put in an appearance.
He swung a satchel in one hand and seemed flustered as he rushed to the ticket office and thence with Frank to the train.
“Just made it!” he explained, sinking breathlessly into a seat. “Got sort of bothered.”
“How was that, Professor Barrington?” inquired Frank.
“Why, I’ve told you I bungled into talking over my plans with a man who, I am now convinced, was bent upon stealing my ideas. When I went back to my hotel I noticed this fellow skulking about the entrance. When I came down from my room to get my satchel, the hotel clerk said someone had been to him asking when I was leaving and where I was going. I don’t like the look of things.”
“You are probably rid of the man, now you are leaving the city,” suggested Frank.
“I sincerely hope so,” returned the professor, with a relieved sigh. “Now we’re by ourselves and comfortable, let us have a thorough talk over our affairs.”
There was a double seat directly behind the one they were in, occupied by a lady and her two children. The little ones were romping and noisy, and after a glance at these neighbors the professor plunged into his subject, not fearful of any eavesdroppers. He had carelessly thrown his satchel in the space behind the seat, just off the aisle. One of its straps had come loose and trailed forward under the seat.
Frank had placed his foot on this. He had no right to suggest or interfere with the personal affairs of his companion, but a memory of what the professor had said about the valuable contents of the satchel in the safe at the hotel, led Frank to wonder if this was the one. In his engrossed way the professor might have lost sight of the necessity of keeping guard over his treasures. Frank pressed his toe against the buckle on the end of the loose strap and resolved to keep it there.
Professor Barrington was a very entertaining man when he conversed on his pet subject. As he related the slow, patient and careful work he had done to have at command movies parties all over the world, ready for any rush order he might give, Frank was amazed.
“Think of it!” remarked the professor, “the photo play speaks the silent but universal language of sight, and the eventual triumph of motion photography is the educational film. I can see this movement lead to education in schools, exhibitions, in conventions.
“I can see marvels of nature we have heretofore only read about brought right into natural action before our eyes. I have already forty-two thousand feet of negatives, including the split reels. I have in view double that volume,and not a film to be released to outsiders until we have gathered the first cream of profit and popularity. It will startle you, my young friend—more, it will thrill you, when you go into the details of the outfit gathered and gathering. Did you know,” demanded the professor, “that there are insects that wash their faces, just as humans do?”
“Why, no, sir—” began Frank.
“You shall see the proof of it, taken from nature. Of course you know what the telepathic sense means?”
“As I take it, it is the ability of dumb creatures to use a mysterious sixth sense that enables them to scent danger at a distance or communicate with one another.”
“Right—especially with ants,” responded the professor. “In Africa scientists have marvelled that an army of these intelligent little creatures should halt in a second when their leader strikes an obstacle. This is done with system and order, when the last ant is half a mile distant and shut out of sight of the head of the procession by a hill or some other object.”
“That seems wonderful,” remarked Frank.
“Well,” declared Professor Barrington, triumphantly, “I have solved the mystery. I have had photographs taken with such an insect army inmotion. It took twenty machines to catch the subject, but the film is made continuous. The king ant halted at a stream. Instantly it shot out a hind foot. Almost as quickly as electricity the ant next behind and those beyond it transmitted that signal down down the line. We estimate that it took just fifty-four seconds to deliver the ‘Halt’ message to the last ant. The photo, magnified, shows the most interesting kicking picture you ever saw.”
For over an hour the professor kept up such an interesting discourse that Frank was charmed. The train was slowing up, and the professor, leaning close to Frank, was pouring into his ear a description of a leaping kangaroo film among his treasures, when Frank straightened up suddenly and fixed his eye upon a man who had just left his seat and was coming down the aisle.
In a flash Frank recognized him as the person he had seen at the city railway station with the hollow satchel. The fellow carried the article now. He swung along as if it was heavy, which Frank knew could not be the case. He stumbled as he passed the seat containing the professor and Frank and seemed to momentarily drop his satchel to the floor as if to regain his balance.
Frank’s nerves thrilled as the man picked up his satchel again. A jerk moved the strap uponwhich Frank had his foot. He arose quickly and turned his head. The professor’s satchel was gone!
The man, who Frank knew in a flash must have taken it up inside his “patent” satchel, was hurrying to the door of the car. With a bound our young hero, guessing at the shrewd trick attempted, was after him.
“Hold on, there!” shouted Frank, so sharply that he attracted the attention of everyone in the coach.
“Meaning me?” retorted the fellow he was after, as Frank ran up to him and grabbed one arm.
“Yes, I do,” cried Frank. “You just took a satchel from behind that seat yonder and I want it.”
“Nonsense! What are you talking about?” shouted the man. “Don’t delay me. This is my station. Let go!” But Frank had slipped his hand down to the satchel the man swung about, and deftly reversing it, unset the stolen satchel from the coiling springs that had caught it up and held it.
“You meddler!” he hissed savagely. The man saw that he was unmasked and outwitted, and with a vicious swing brought his own satchel against Frank’s head. The latter went spinningto the floor, but he held on to the professor’s property.
“Astonishing!” exclaimed his fellow-traveler, arising in wonder to his feet. “Stop that man!” But the fellow whom Frank had baffled darted for the rear door of the car, leaped outside, slammed it shut after him and sprang to the platform of the station before the train stopped.
A dozen curious passengers questioned Frank as to the details of the strange incident they had noticed.
“A slick thief with a trick satchel,” Frank explained, briefly. “Keep tight hold of your property, Professor,” he told his mystified friend. The train halted only for a moment to let off a few passengers. Frank had gone to the car platform. He leaned from it, gazing keenly down the length of the platform to see if he could find any trace of the thief.
The latter was nowhere in sight, however, until after the train had started. Then Frank saw him come into view around the distant end of the depot building. The fellow made some motions with his hands as if conveying a signal to someone. Frank turned and sharply took in the interior of the car. He saw a man just shutting down a window. He had not noticed this person before. Now he recognized him as one of themen who had been with the thief in the city railway station.
“The professor’s fears are well founded, it seems,” reflected Frank. “There has been a plot afoot to get possession of that satchel. Well, the schemers haven’t done it so far. I don’t think they will get it if I can help it.”
Frank found the professor seated with the rescued satchel in his lap, holding it tightly in both hands. He looked both bewildered and timorous.
“That fellow was trying to steal my satchel!” he declared, in a nervous, alarmed way. “Mr. Durham, that means something.”
“Yes,” assented Frank, “I suppose he singled out your satchel with a purpose.”
“You mean he has followed us from New York with the intent of depriving me of my property?” asked the professor.
“It looks that way, sir,” answered Frank, gravely.
“It is a good thing you were with me,” said Professor Barrington, with a grateful look. “Audacious! Unheard of! Dear me! What villainy there is in the world!”
Frank felt that all was safe now, and tried to allay the concern of his companion. He thought it best not to alarm the latter by revealing hissuspicion that the man six seats ahead of them was probably a member of the group that was after that precious satchel.
Frank kept his eye on this man, who pretended to be absorbed in a newspaper. He showed no outward sign that the incident had affected or interested him. Frank was about to ask the professor to walk to the front end of the car and take a look at the man’s face, when there came a sharp whistle from the locomotive.
Almost instantly the brakes were set. There was a grinding jar, then a shock and a crash. Frank realized that something was coming and grasped the seat brace.
Not so the professor. As the train came to an abrupt stop amid the jangle of broken glass and parting timbers, he was lifted from his seat violently. He shot past Frank and landed in the aisle like a lump of clay.