“No, sir; I can’t say that I do, although I believe I have seen your face before.”
“I think you have, but I did not wear a full beard then.”
“Ah! Then it is possible the beard has made the change that prevents me from recognizing you.”
“Quite likely.”
“Will you sit down?”
“I have some important business with you,” explained the stranger, with a glance toward Gallup and Hodge.
Immediately Bart started for the door.
“See you later, Frank,” he said. “Come on, Ephraim.”
Gallup followed Hodge from the room.
When they were gone, Frank again invited the stranger to be seated.
“Thank you,” said the man, as he accepted a chair. “For reasons I wish you would look at me closely and see if you recognize me. I recognize you, although you are older, but I must proceed with the utmost caution in this matter, and I wish you would recognize me and state my name, so that I may feel absolutely certain that I am making no mistake.”
Frank sat down opposite the gentleman, at whom he gazed searchingly. He concentrated his mind in the effort to remember. Frank had found that he could do many difficult things by concentration of his mental forces. Now he sought to picture in his mind the appearance of this man without a beard. Gradually, he felt that he was drawing nearer and nearer the object he sought. Finally he made a request:
“Please speak again, sir.”
“Why do you wish me to, speak again?” said the stranger, smiling.
“So that your voice may aid me in remembering. I wish to associate your voice and your face.”
“Very well. What do you wish me to say?”
“You have said enough. I have your voice now.”
“I’m afraid you’ll not be able to remember,” said the stranger. “It doesn’t make any great difference, for I recognize you, and I can make assurance doubly sure by asking you a few questions. First, I wish to ask – ”
“Excuse me,” interrupted Merry. “You are from Carson City, Nevada. You are connected with the bank in Carson, where I deposited a certain amount of valuable treasure, found by myself and some friends years ago in the Utah Desert. Your name is Horace Hobson.”
“Correct!” cried the man, with satisfaction. “Now, can you produce the receipt given you for that treasure?”
“Yes, sir,” nodded Frank, immediately producing a leather pocketbook and opening it. “I have it here.”
In a moment he had found the paper and handed it to Mr. Hobson.
The gentleman adjusted some gold-rimmed nose-glasses and looked the receipt over.
“This is the receipt,” he nodded. “You instructed the bank officials to use every effort and spare no expense to find the relatives of Prof. Millard Fillmore and the rightful heirs to the treasure.”
“I did.”
“I am here to inform you that the bank has carried out your instructions faithfully.”
“Then you have found Prof. Fillmore’s relatives?” quickly asked Merry, his heart sinking a bit.
“On the contrary, we have found that he has no relatives living. He seems to have been the last of his family – the end of it – ”
“Then – ”
“It has been necessary for us to go to considerable expense to settle this point beyond a doubt, but we have done so, in accordance with your directions. Of course, we shall not lose anything. We have ascertained the exact value of the treasure, and have deducted for our expense and trouble. At a meeting of the bank directors I was instructed to turn over the remainder to you. I have here papers showing the exact valuation of the treasure as deposited with us. Here is a complete account of all our expenses and charges. We have found a balance remaining of forty-three thousand seven hundred and thirty-eight dollars. I was sent to turn this money over to you, as I could identify you beyond doubt, and there could be no mistake. To make it certain in my own mind, I wished you to recognize me. You did so, and I knew I could not be making a mistake. I will take up this receipt here, and in return will give you a check for the amount, if that is satisfactory to you.”
Frank sat like one dazed, staring at Horace Hobson. Was it possible that he was not dreaming? Was he in his hour of need to receive this immense sum of money? No wonder he fancied he was dreaming.
At last he gave himself a slight shake, and his voice did not falter as he said:
“It is perfectly satisfactory to me, sir. I will accept the check.”
CHAPTER III. – MERRIWELL’S GENEROSITY
Mr. Hobson departed, and then Frank rang for a bell boy and sent for Bart and Ephraim. Merry’s two friends came in a short time.
“I have called you up,” said Merry, “to talk over the arrangements for putting ‘For Old Eli’ on the road again without delay. I have decided on that. It will take some little time to manufacture the costly mechanical effect that I propose to introduce into the third act, and we shall have to get some new paper. I believe I can telegraph a description to Chicago so a full stand lithograph from stone can be made that will suit me, and I shall telegraph to-day.”
Hodge stared at Frank as if he thought Merry had lost his senses.
“You always were a practical joker,” he growled; “but don’t you think it’s about time to let up? I don’t see that this is a joking matter. You should have some sympathy for our feelings, if you don’t care for yourself.”
Merry laughed a bit.
“My dear fellow,” he said, “I assure you I was never more serious. I am not joking. I shall telegraph for the paper immediately.”
“Paper like that costs money, and the lithographers will demand a guarantee before they touch the work.”
“And I shall give them a guarantee. I shall instruct them to draw on the First National Bank of Denver, where my money will be deposited.”
“Your money?” gasped Hodge.
“Jeewhillikins!” gurgled Gallup.
Then Frank’s friends looked at each other, the same thought in the minds of both.
Had Merry gone mad? Had his misfortune turned his brain?
“I believe I can have the effect I desire to introduce manufactured for me in Denver,” Frank went on. “I shall brace up that third act with it. I shall make a spectacular climax on the order of the mechanical horse races you see on the stage. I shall have some dummy figures and boats made, so that the boat race may be seen on the river in the distance. I have an idea of a mechanical arrangement to represent the crowd that lines the river and the observation train that carries a load of spectators along the railroad that runs beside the river. I think the swaying crowd can be shown, the moving train, the three boats, Yale, Harvard and Cornell, with their rowers working for life. Harvard shall be a bit in the lead when the boats first appear, but Yale shall press her and take the lead. Then I will have the scene shifted instantly, so that the audience will be looking into the Yale clubhouse. The rear of the house shall open direct upon the river. There shall be great excitement in the clubhouse, which I will have located at the finish of the course. The boats are coming. Outside, along the river, mad crowds are cheering hoarsely, whistles are screeching, Yale students are howling the college cry. Here they come! Now the excitement is intense. Hurrah! Yale has taken the lead! The boats shoot in view at the back of the stage, Yale a length ahead, Harvard next, Cornell almost at her side, and in this form they cross the line, Yale the victor. The star of the piece, myself, who has escaped from his enemies barely in time to enter the boat and help win the race, is brought on by the madly cheering college men, and down