Ahead of the Show Part 9

AL'S AD.

Mr. Marcus' words haunted Al for some time after their parting.

"I don't know but there is something in that," the boy said to himself: "I'll look out for the lucky accidents after this."

But the full-page advertis.e.m.e.nt had to be prepared in less than an hour, and Al had to turn his attention to its preparation.

When he went to his room he had not the slightest idea what sort of an advertis.e.m.e.nt he was going to write; he only knew that it must be something taking and brief.

"Brevity is the soul of wit, anyhow," he reflected, "so I don't believe I shall make any mistake on that point. But what shall I say in the ad.? I wonder if I haven't bitten off a little more than I can chew?"

In half an hour he had the advertis.e.m.e.nt ready, and a few minutes later he presented himself with it at the office of the Bugle.

Here everything was in confusion, but he found the foreman of the composing room ready and waiting for him.

"Have you got your copy all ready?" asked the man, nervously. "There is no time to spare."

"Here it is," said Al, producing a slip of paper from his vest pocket.

"I thought you were to have a full page?" said the foreman.

"So I am, according to contract," smiled the boy.

"But there are only half a dozen lines here."

"That's all."

"Oh, you want a display ad.?"

"No--at least not the kind you mean. I want those few lines repeated over and over again until the entire s.p.a.ce contracted for is filled."

"You want it printed solid?" gasped the foreman.

"That's it."

"But I could give you a much more attractive ad. We can get up a full-page display ad. that would be simply out of sight."

"I don't doubt it, but I want another kind."

"All right," said the foreman, with a pitying sigh; "you pay your money and you take your choice."

"That's the idea."

The foreman carefully perused the advertis.e.m.e.nt. This is what he read: "See the New York Comedy Company, Augustus Wattles, Manager.

"See this great company in 'Loved and Lost.'

"See the real locomotive, under a full head of steam.

"See the real steam yacht.

"See all this.

"But---- "Please don't look at the queer old man in the third row of the orchestra."

The foreman stared at Al as if he thought him an escaped lunatic.

"That's a strange ad.," he said.

"Is it?" laughed the boy.

"I never saw anything like it before."

"Well?"

"Well, do you want it to go in just as you have written it?"

"I do."

"Without any attempt at display?"

"Without the slightest attempt at display."

"That goes, then. Good-night; I must get the men at work on this at once."

"I've done all this on my own responsibility," reflected Al, as he left the place. "If it turns out a fizzle, Mr. Wattles won't have so much confidence in me in the future. Well, there's no use fretting now; the thing is done. If it doesn't work I shall know enough not to repeat the experiment."

Still Al did fret a little after he got to his room. The apartment that had been a.s.signed to him was a large, gloomy room on one of the upper floors of the building. It was about half filled with paintings not hung, but standing against the wall. These, the hotel clerk had explained, were the property of an impecunious artist who had formerly boarded in the house, and were being held until his bill was paid.

"We left them right there," explained the clerk, "not thinking that we would need to put anyone in the room for some time. But on account of the rush to the circus the house is full, and we must put you there."

It made very little difference to Al where he slept, and he said so. He was only going to spend one night in the house, and the room was comfortable, if it was rather gloomy.

Entering it after his visit to the Bugle office, he threw himself into a chair and fixed his eyes on a full-length picture of a man in modern dress. He did not even take the trouble to light the gas.

The rays of the moon dimly illumined the room and lighted up the picture. The boy sat for nearly half an hour staring absently at the portrait, thinking nothing about it, but trying to plan his work for the next day or two.

But soon he began to realize that he was very tired. He found himself yawning, and his eyelids drooped in spite of himself.

"It's no use," he said to himself, "I'll have to leave business until to-morrow. I'll go to bed."

But just as he rose from his chair--could he believe the evidence of his senses?--the figure of the man stepped from the canvas and approached him.

It was no dream, for in an instant the boy was as wide awake as he had ever been.

Apparently the picture had come to life!

CHAPTER XV.

SAVED BY A SHADOW.

In a few seconds Al perceived that the picture had not been endowed with life; the painted figure remained in its place; it was a being of flesh and blood that was approaching him.

The intruder had been standing in front of the picture; the dim light and Al's preoccupation had conspired to render the boy unconscious of his presence.

"Who are you?" our hero exclaimed, as the man approached him.

The next moment he recognized the fellow, and added in a startled voice: "Farley!"

"Yes," said the ex-advance agent, "it's Farley, the man you knocked out. You're a little surprised to see me, aren't you?"

"What do you want?" demanded the boy.

"I'll show you what I want."

And he darted between Al and the door.

"Get out of my way!" the lad exclaimed, attempting to push him aside.

But Farley seized him by the throat and forced him to the floor.

"You won't escape me this time," he hissed.

Al struggled to release himself, but the grasp of the drink-maddened brute was not to be shaken off.

"No, you don't!" he said, in a fierce whisper. "I warned you that you had not heard the last of me."

Al tried to cry for help, but could only make an inarticulate sound.

Farley dragged him in the direction of the window, saying: "You got away from me last night, but you won't this time."

"So," Al managed to gasp, "you were the masked man who accused me of being a horse thief?"

"I was the man. You nearly turned the tables on me that time, but you won't have the same luck twice in succession."

As he spoke Farley relaxed his grasp on the boy's throat.

"Youngster," he went on, "if it hadn't been for you I shouldn't have lost my job with Gus Wattles. Its loss, under the circ.u.mstances, means ruin for me. I can't catch up again, unless----"

"Is that my fault?" interrupted Al, seeing that the man was crazed with drink, and that the wisest policy was to attempt to conciliate him. "I didn't take the position until Mr. Wattles had decided to discharge you."

"It's a lie!"

"It's the truth."

"If you had not been available he would have taken me back."

"I don't know anything about that. Of course, I had no feeling against you in the matter. I wanted the place, but I could not have obtained it if your work had been satisfactory."

"You used some underhanded method to oust me."

"I did not."

"You did. If you had not, how could you have gotten the place? There are dozens--hundreds--of experienced men, who would have been glad to take the position at half my salary. No, you did it for private reasons of your own. You were hired to do it to separate me from her."

"From whom?"

"You know well enough who I mean."

"I have not the slightest idea," replied Al.

By this time Farley had permitted him to rise to his feet, but still kept between him and the door.

"I mean Gladys--as you know," said the drink-maddened man; "Gladys, for whom I would give my very life."

"Miss March?"

It was with genuine surprise that Al asked this question.

"Yes."

"You think that I am in a conspiracy to separate you from her?"

"I know it."

"You are entirely mistaken. I know nothing at all about Miss March's affairs; in fact, I have never even spoken to her."

"It is a lie. But come, I have no more time to waste. This job must be done."

He again seized the boy by the throat, and dragged him toward the window. Al was by no means a weakling, but he was absolutely powerless in the grasp of his frenzied a.s.sailant.

With one hand Farley held his intended victim, while with the other he threw up the window sash.

"No one in the street below," he hissed, "is looking, and if they were they could not see us. When your body is found, your death will be considered an accident."

Al now lay on his back upon the sill; half his body was out of the window. Apparently the villain's object was almost accomplished, and in a few seconds the boy's mutilated body would be lying upon the pavement below.

"I never knew before," said Farley, "how sweet revenge was."

"You won't know just yet," said Al, "if I can help it."