CHAPTER XIV
THE WONDERFUL FILMS
Frank and Pep were silent a moment. They did not know exactly what to do or say under the circumstances, and they did not want to further embarrass their guest. Then Albert resumed:
"You can just imagine how I felt when my uncle was taken away from me, and put in an asylum. I had no other friend or relative, as far as I knew, and all my money—all my uncle's money—was gone. I did not even have enough to pay my hotel bill, for my uncle had come back from New York practically penniless."
"It was a bad fix," murmured Frank, sympathetically.
"And I couldn't think of anything else to do except end my life," went on Albert. "But you saved me in time."
"And we're glad of it!" cried Pep, enthusiastically. "It's never so bad but that it might be worse."
"I don't really know whether I would have had the courage to cast myself into the ocean or not," said Albert, slowly. "I was certainly miserable enough to want to do it. But you came along just in time."
"We rather suspected what you were up to, or what you thought you wanted to do," declared Pep. "Well, now, you just brace up, and we'll see what we can do for you."
"I don't see what you can do," replied Albert, hopelessly. "I haven't a cent of money. In fact, I left my hotel for I couldn't pay for the room any more."
"Did you leave any of your things there?" Frank wanted to know.
"Yes, a trunk of my own and one of my uncle's. I had had two meals after my week was up, and I left the trunks there to pay for them."
"Which it would probably do several times over," observed Pep. "We must get them back for you the first thing."
"But I have no money!" Albert cried.
"Oh, well, we'll advance you enough for that," Frank said, cheerfully.
"But I don't want to borrow what I can't pay back."
"Well, then, we'll give you a chance to earn it, since you are such a stickler!" laughed Pep. "We didn't tell you about ourselves, I guess. We're in the motion picture business, and we have a number of openings for young fellows like you. I think we can place you," and he looked at Frank for confirmation.
"Yes, we ought to be able to find a place for you," replied the other chum. "I wish it could be right here in San Francisco, but we, too, have been disappointed. We expected to be able to get a place in the Zone, but were not able."
"Oh, if you only had my uncle's place!" cried Albert. "But of course that was lost with everything else. Poor man!"
"And you say he is in an asylum?" asked Pep.
"Yes."
"Who had him put there?"
"Some man with whom he had business dealings. This man said my uncle was no longer mentally responsible—that his losses had turned his brain. And it must have been so, for certainly my uncle acted like an insane man. He was very strange, he hardly knew me. Oh, I don't know what to do!"
"Now you leave this all to us," suggested Pep. "We will provide a place for you——"
"But I don't want charity—I want work!" interrupted Albert.
"Well, have it your own way, then," agreed Pep, with a smile. "If we can't open our motion picture theatre here as we planned, we can go back to New York, and there will be a place for you there. But we haven't given up trying here. Now the first thing to do is to get your trunks from that other hotel—that is, unless you had rather go back there and stay, instead of putting up with us for a while, as we have to remain at the Cliff House for some time longer."
"Oh, I'd rather be with you," Albert answered; "that is, if you will arrange it so I can pay you back any money you may advance me."
"We'll do that," agreed Pep. "And now let's get busy, Frank!"
"Getting busy" was something to which the motion picture chums were very well used. In a comparatively short time they had arranged to have Albert installed in a room near them, his trunks had been brought from the other hotel and he was attired in a dry suit of his own, while the wet one was sent out to be pressed.
"I surely can't thank you fellows enough," he said to the chums. "You are more than kind to me."
"Pshaw!" cried Pep. "Maybe we'll want the same kind of treatment ourselves, some day."
Frank and Pep did not forget what had brought them to the Cliff House. But, try as they would, they could get no "line" on the suspected man, Royston. They realized that they must work under cover, for once they were looked upon with suspicion their usefulness to Mr. Bullard would end. And if Royston was up to some underhand game he took great pains to cover his tracks.
In fact, the day after Albert Jackson became the protege of the chums, Royston left the hotel, whether for good or not the boys could not learn.
When Mr. Bullard heard this he said there was no use in Frank and Pep remaining at the Cliff House. On their part they were very anxious to be at work on their own business matters, which had been rather neglected of late.
"Though if we can't get a concession in the Zone, what are we to do?" asked Hank Strapp, when the chums and their friends were together again.
Albert had been welcomed by Randy, Hank Strapp and Ben Jolly and made to feel that he was one of the party. It developed that he could use a typewriter, and as there were a number of letters to be written to the managers of the different motion picture enterprises, Albert was made a sort of secretary, under salary. He seemed to brighten up very much after that—as soon as he was earning money.
Meanwhile the motion picture chums had paid several visits to the manager of the Zone, but he was unable to do anything for them in the matter of providing space.
"I did have hopes that a certain party would drop out," the manager said, "in which case you boys would have had the next chance at his concession. But someone connected with him has taken advantage of the option, and is going to run a show."
"Then there isn't any chance for us?" asked Randy.
"Nothing that I can see, I am sorry to say."
"Too bad!" sighed Ben Jolly with a doleful look on his usually good-natured countenance. "I'm afraid I'll never get my exposition pipe organ!"
"Yes, you will!" cried Frank. "We'll open something here, anyhow!"
"Good!" exclaimed Ben. "Then I sure will be happy; for this California climate certainly suits me."
The matter of what the boys were to do, now they were out at the big fair, became something for serious consideration. They were under quite a heavy expense, and while they were comparatively well-off, they were business-like enough not to wish to waste money uselessly.
Then, one day, a letter was received from a big film agency, stating that certain important films, which had practically been contracted for, were ready for delivery, and the first payment was due.
"Now we are up against it!" exclaimed Randy, as the chums met for a conference.
"Do we have to take those films?" asked Pep. "Can't we decline to receive them? I don't mean do anything dishonest," he hastened to add, "but can't we forfeit a certain sum, and cancel the contract?"
"Yes, we could do that, and legally, too," said Frank. "In fact, that is provided for in the contract. But I don't want to lose the chance to show those films. They are too wonderful, and we have the exclusive agency out here. It would be a shame to let this chance slip."
"What are the films?" asked Albert, who was now almost one of the chums.
"Oh, I forgot, you don't know about them," spoke Frank. "Well, when we considered getting a place at the big fair, my chums and I contracted for some wonderful motion pictures. One series showed life under the ocean, the views being taken in a sort of diving-bell, and the pictures presented the floor of the ocean, big and little fish swimming around most naturally, coral growing and great rocks. There are views of wrecks, divers going about their work, and some wonderful scenes of a fight with a man-eating shark. Those views alone would have netted us a tidy sum.
"But we have others, also. The second series shows marvels of wild animal life, in different countries. Jungle beasts are pictured coming to the water holes to drink, and there are a number of thrilling fights among wild animals. The two sets of films, with some others, more ordinary, but new, would have made an exhibition that would have drawn crowds."
"And now we can't take them," said Pep.
"I don't see how we can," agreed Frank. "We spoke of opening a motion picture theatre in town, after we found we couldn't get space at the fair, but I hardly think that would pay. In the first place we would have to put up a premium on the regular price of such a place because of the extra crowds that will be attracted by the fair. And again, no one who had a good site would be willing to sell out. So we would lose money instead of making it."
"Then what are we to do?" asked Randy.
"I don't know," was Frank's dejected answer.
Truly the motion picture chums were in more desperate straits than at any time since they had gone into business together.
They were in danger not only of losing money, but their reputations would suffer. They had contracted to take certain films, and, though they could refuse to carry out that contract, and pay the prescribed penalty, this would become known in motion picture circles, and the chums would get a "black eye," from a business standpoint.
"We really can't afford to let the films go, and we can hardly afford to take them," said Frank. "I don't know what to advise."
"I wish I could help you," said Albert. "You have done so much for me, that I would like to return it. But I can't. If my uncle were only in his right mind I feel sure he would help. He was such a good business man, and promoted so many enterprises. But he is out of the race now," and there were tears in Albert's eyes.
"Well," spoke Frank, with a long breath, "we've got to do something, that's sure. I think we'll——"
He was interrupted by a knock on the door.
"Come in!" called Frank, and a messenger entered with a note.