Frank Merriwell's New Comedian Part 50

Frank found the purse and opened it. From it he drew forth a crumpled and torn telegram. Smoothing this out, he saw it was dated at Castle Rock the previous day. It read as follows:

"Mrs. Hayward Grace, Puelbo, Colo.

"All right. Close call. Fell from train into river. Came near drowning, but managed to swim out. Will be along on first train to-morrow. Keep track of the game.

"P. F."

Frank jumped when he read that.

"By Jove!" he cried.

"Whut is it?" Ephraim eagerly asked.

"I believe I understand this."

"Do ye?"

"Sure! This was from the man who fell from the train into the river--the man disguised as a woman, who attacked me on the rear platform!"

"Looks zif yeou might be right."

"I am sure of it! The fellow escaped with his life! It is marvelous!"

"I sh'u'd say so!"

"He dispatched his accomplice, the woman, to let her know that he was living."

"Yeou've struck it, Frank!"

"And she was the one who got out the accusing flyers, charging me with the crime of murder!"

"I bet!"

"The man is in this city now, and they are working together again."

"I dunno'd I see whut they're goin' to make aout of it, but mebbe yeou do."

"Not yet. They must be enemies I have made."

"Who's Mrs. Hayward Grace?"

"Never heard the name before."

"Waal, he didn't sign his name Hayward Grace, so it seems he ain't her husband; don't it, Frank?"

"He signed 'P. F.' Now, I wonder what one of my enemies can be fitted to those initials?"

"I dunno."

"Nor do I. But this telegram has given me a feeling of relief, for I am glad to know the man was not drowned."

"Drownin's too good fer him! He oughter be hung!"

"Although my conscience was clear in the matter, I am glad to know that I was in no way connected with his death. Hodge will not be so pleased, for he will not stop to reason that the chances of a charge of murder being brought against us are about blotted out. Ephraim, I am very sorry you were hurt, but I'm extremely glad you s.n.a.t.c.hed this purse and brought me this telegram. I shall take care of it. I shall use it to trace my enemies, if possible."

"Waal, I'm glad I done somethin', though I'd bin a 'tarnal sight gladder if I hed ketched that woman."

Frank carefully placed the purse and the telegram in his pocket, where he knew it would be safe.

a.s.suring Ephraim that everything possible should be done for him, he hastened out.

That afternoon the rehearsal took place, with another person reading Ephraim's part. It was feared that Gallup would not be able to see to play when it came night, but Frank hoped that he could, and the Vermont youth vowed he'd do it some way.

The rehearsal pa.s.sed off fairly well, although there were some hitches.

Havener looked satisfied.

"I'd rather it would go off this way than to have it go perfectly smooth," he declared. "I've noticed it almost always happens that a good, smooth rehearsal just before a first performance means that the performance will go bad, and vice versa."

Frank had not been long in the business, but he, also, had observed that it often happened as Havener had said.

The theater orchestra rehea.r.s.ed with them, getting all the "cue music"

arranged, and having everything in readiness for the specialties.

The night came at last, and the company gathered at the theater, wondering what the outcome would be.

Gallup was on hand, but he still had the bandage over his eyes. He was wearing it up to the last minute, so that he would give them as much rest as possible.

"Somebody'll hev ter make me up ter-night," he said. "I don't believe I kin see well enough ter do that."

Havener agreed to look after that.

While the various members were putting the finishing touches on their toilet and make-up, word came that people were pouring into the theater in a most satisfactory manner. The orchestra tuned up for the overture.

Frank went round to see that everybody was prepared. He had fallen into that habit, not feeling like depending on some one else to do it.

Most of the men were entirely ready. A few were making the last touches.

Stella Stanley and Agnes Kirk were all ready to go on.

"Where is Ca.s.sie?" asked Merry.

"In the dressing room," said Stella. "She told us not to wait for her.

Said she would be right out."

Frank went to the dressing room. The door was slightly open, and, through the opening, he saw Ca.s.sie. She had thrust back the sleeve of her left arm, and he saw a tiny instrument in her right hand. He knew in a twinkling what she was about to do.

With a leap, Frank went into that room and caught her by the wrist.

"Ca.s.sie!" he cried, guardedly. "You told me you had given it up! You told me you'd never use morphine again!"