CHAPTER XIVPLYMOUTH—DERELICT
“TheGreat Film!” Somehow those words impressed Pep deeply. He stood still, staring at Professor Barrington. Randy moved a step nearer to him. Vic had been forgotten.
“Bless me!” murmured Mr. Strapp. “Something new and lively in the movies line all the time, it appears to me.”
From the first the professor had outlined his films in a way that led his business friends to expect great things of the future. More than once, too, he had given an exciting hint as to some novel and original themes that were being worked out by his foreign assistants. They would startle the movies world, he had declared. Thinking of that, Pep instantly decided that his present emotion was caused by some slip in his plans.
“You have received bad news, Professor Barrington?” inquired Frank, and the elderly manroused sufficiently to select one of the telegrams he had just opened.
“Read,” he said. “You know how I wired to all northern points from New York City, directing the replies to come here. The Plymouth has not been seen at a single point until this message from Trinity. Read,” and the speaker, overcome, could say no more.
They were a family, in a sense, those in the room. Frank read the dispatch which had so affected his old friend. It ran:
“Plymouth sighted in a great sleet storm off Despair Bay two nights since. Dismasted, no one seen on board, and a drifting wreck.”
“Plymouth sighted in a great sleet storm off Despair Bay two nights since. Dismasted, no one seen on board, and a drifting wreck.”
“And Randall was aboard of the Plymouth,” quavered Professor Barrington, “and the film—the great film!”
“Don’t take it so hard, Professor,” said Frank in a soothing tone, placing a gentle hand on his shoulder. “Your friend may have escaped.”
“No, no, Durham,” groaned the professor. “It would not be the way of Randall to neglect advising me by the first wire if he had met with a disaster and had escaped.”
“And as to the great film—is it really that, now?” went on Frank.
“Can you ask that, after knowing that half I had in the world was staked on the securing of motorphoto pictures on a subject never yet covered by the film maker? Think of it! That unique variety of subjects, showing the crowning glories of the universe. Ah, it is a cruel blow!”
“Frank, is it something serious?” whispered Pep, stepping to the side of his chum. Frank did not reply. He stood for a moment lost in thought, his eyes fixed on Professor Barrington. He appeared to be groping mentally to find some means of relieving the distress of his friend.
Suddenly Frank’s face lit up as if he had solved a problem. His hand went to an inside pocket and he drew out a wallet well filled with bank notes. He ran them over, estimating what sum they represented, rather than actually counting them. The inspection seemed satisfactory and Frank replaced the money in his pocket. Then Pep, who had watched every shadow that crossed his face, saw the impression there that always told that his clever chum had made up his mind to something.
Professor Barrington crouched in his chair as if all his hopes had been crushed. He had sunk into a kind of lethargy of despair. Frank roused him with the words:
“I am going to find out.”
“You are going to find out what, Durham?” questioned the professor in a hollow tone.
“The best—the worst—whatever it is. Don’t give up hope. We will know a good deal more when I return than we do now. That, at least, is sure.”
There came a dash of rain against the window. Frank glanced out at the wind-swept street. Then he went to a wardrobe, and donned a heavy raincoat.
“Hold on, Durham,” spoke Mr. Strapp, worked up to a high pitch of excitement. “Isn’t there something to say before you go away?”
“Just step into the hall for a minute, Mr. Strapp,” asked Frank. Pep, with ears wide open, tried to catch some inkling of what was going on, but Frank had closed the door after himself and the Westerner. Then in about half a minute the ex-ranchman returned to the room alone. He sank into a chair with a grave face, speaking the words half aloud:
“If anybody can do it, Durham can.”
A gloom had spread over the apartment so recently filled with cheeriness. Professor Barrington sat with his face buried in one hand. Mr. Strapp got up and moved about in a fidgety way. Vic, half understanding that something of serious importance had interrupted his interview withthe young leader of the motion picture chums, retired to a corner of the room, feeling uneasy and out of place. Pep came up to him.
“I say, Vic,” he observed, “I wish you’d put off this tour of the movies for to-night.”
“Why, certainly,” responded Vic. “Say, what’s the matter—some trip-up in the plans of you people?”
“Yes,” returned Pep, with a disturbed face, “and it’s taken the heart clear out of me for any junketing or fun.”
Randy had gone out into the hall. Pep soon joined him and then Vic followed them.
“I feel as if I was in the way, somehow,” he observed.
“You needn’t,” responded Pep. “It’s a kind of a mystery to me, all this; but you can trust Frank Durham to clear things up if it’s possible. What do you think’s up, Randy?”
“Why it’s plain to be seen that some ship that Professor Barrington sent out, or that was coming to him, had someone aboard with ‘the great film,’ as they called it. The professor seems to have set great store by it, the way he acts.”
“But if that telegram says the ship is wrecked and nobody saved, what Frank expects to do is what is puzzling me,” observed Pep.
The trio tramped up and down the hall to passthe time. Then they went down to the lobby of the hotel. They sat down in arm chairs and tried to get interested in the guests about them. Pep, however, could not keep still. He had Randy on the jump, keeping track of his movements. Vic never spoke a word, but followed them about like a faithful dog.
Finally Pep ventured but into the street. The rain soon drove him and his companions under shelter again, however. Then they returned to their room. The professor still sat as they had seen him last. Mr. Strapp still seemed worried.
“See here, boys,” he spoke after a period of silence, “you had better get to bed. Durham may not be back for hours.”
“I sha’n’t stir a step until he comes back,” declared Pep, “I’m too worried to sleep.”
Randy seemed of the same mind, for he sat down as if planting himself for an all-night vigil, and Vic placidly followed his example. In about half an hour, however, Pep, glancing toward them, saw that both were napping.
“H’m! this is dismal enough,” he commented, stirred up by the suspense.
He must have nodded and dozed for some time, Pep realized, for he awoke with a start as the knob of the room door clicked. Mr. Strapp was yawning and stirring himself.
“It’s Frank!” cried the quick-eared Pep, springing to his feet, and, half-way across the room, he faced Frank as he entered.
“Good news or bad, Durham?” asked Mr. Strapp, arising stiffly.
“The best in the world!” replied Frank promptly, his eyes snapping, his face one smile of satisfaction.
“Why, where have you ever been?” inquired Pep in wonder, for Frank’s coat was glistening with rain, his cap was dripping and his face weather beaten and flushed.
“I’ve been trying to find out something,” explained Frank, “and I have. It’s a queer adventure. There was one thing only to try in an effort to gain news of the wrecked Plymouth, in whose safety or loss there is so much at stake for us.”
“Frank, quick! Is she a goner? Is the great film——”
“Safe, I have every reason to believe,” replied Frank.
“Hurrah!” shouted the excited Pep, with a fervor that brought Randy out of slumberland and to his feet.
“For fifteen minutes,” went on Frank, “under special orders from the Government, the wireless service has been combing the North Atlantic andthe air above it with orders to every station and ship in the service to find out what has become of the derelict, Plymouth.”
“What’s that? What’s that?” shouted Professor Barrington, scrambling to his feet with wide eyes.
“From off the Newfoundland coast, near Trinity,” went on Frank Durham, “one response, among over a hundred, came: ‘Steamer Montreal homeward bound with the Plymouth in tow. All on board safe.’”
“The great film! The great film!” chattered rather than spoke the old professor. Then he sank in a heap on the floor.