“Will you be all right if we leave you alone here?” asked Frank a little later. “We want to go out and make some inquiries.”
“Sure. Go ahead,” replied William. “I’m so happy now I’ll not be lonesome.”
The three chums went to police headquarters to ask if any news concerning Ned had been received, but there was none for them. The sergeant behind the desk tried to cheer them up by remarking that “no news was good news.”
“We must find him pretty soon,” Bart declared. “If we don’t I’ll begin to believe something bad has happened.”
As they were walking along the Bowery, in the neighborhood of the cheap variety theaters, they were attracted by a flaming poster which announced the various performers who could be seen or heard. They paused and read it through. There were men who imitated monkeys, trained birds, strong men, women who sang, bands of musicians, and at the bottom of the poster was the announcement.
HEAR JOHN NEWTON, THE GREAT
BIRD WHISTLER.
“John Newton,” murmured Fenn. “That name sounds familiar.”
“Of course it does,” replied Frank. “That’s the name of the chap who was expelled from our high school last term.”
“So it was. But this can’t be the same one.”
“I think it is,” suggested Fenn. “Don’t you remember, he said he was going to New York to be an actor? I heard he had some sort of a job in a theater. Maybe this is he. Let’s go in and see.”