"I'm not here to advertise myself but the New York Comedy Company."
"You're the first advance agent I ever saw who wasn't trying to advertise himself at the expense, if necessary, of his show."
"That isn't my way of doing business."
"Well, this article will boom the show, and don't you forget it. But if you don't like the headlines what will you think of the interview?"
Al sank into a chair and began a hasty perusal of the article.
He was dismayed at the reporter's audacity; the information he had given the man had been so altered and distorted that he could only dimly recognize himself in the hero of the newspaper man's weird fancy.
The interview was in the highest degree complimentary—at least from its writer's standpoint; it was evident that the reporter had written it in a friendly spirit, and with the intention of giving its subject a good "send off."
The portion that referred to his sister annoyed Al the most. It was near the end of the two-column article, and read as follows:
"But the life of the hero of this strange, though strictly authentic, tale has not been entirely one of adventurous pleasure. Deep in his heart he carries a sorrow about which he was extremely reticent to speak to the Banner reporter. In referring to it this lad, who has faced dangers from which many a stalwart man would shrink appalled, wept like a child. Years ago he lost an idolized sister. She was taken from the home of which she was the pride, not by the hand of death, but by that of a kidnaper. The story is a most romantic one. The little child was playing one morning on the sloping lawn in front of her father's palatial country seat in Tarrytown, adjoining that of the late Jay Gould. Her nurse was called away for a few moments. During the woman's absence the child disappeared. What became of it? Alas! to this day no one save the ruthless destroyer of the happiness of this once peaceful home knows. It was rumored that a rejected suitor of the little girl's mother was the villain, but nothing was ever proven against him. The father of the child died of a broken heart, and his wife would, without doubt, have soon followed him to the grave had it not been for her boy—the subject of this necessarily incomplete article. For his sake she resolved to live. When he was but four years of age she made him promise her that he would devote his life to solving the mystery of his sister's fate."