“The worst!” replied Professor Barrington, with a hollow groan. “The schooner Plymouth—”
“Yes! yes!” urged Frank, his own face growing drawn with anxiety.
“The great film—lost! Gone!”
CHAPTER XIV
PLYMOUTH—DERELICT
“The Great Film!” Somehow those words impressed Pep deeply. He stood still, staring at Professor Barrington. Randy moved a step nearer to him. Vic had been forgotten.
“Bless me!” murmured Mr. Strapp. “Something new and lively in the movies line all the time, it appears to me.”
From the first the professor had outlined his films in a way that led his business friends to expect great things of the future. More than once, too, he had given an exciting hint as to some novel and original themes that were being worked out by his foreign assistants. They would startle the movies world, he had declared. Thinking of that, Pep instantly decided that his present emotion was caused by some slip in his plans.
“You have received bad news, Professor Barrington?” inquired Frank, and the elderly man roused sufficiently to select one of the telegrams he had just opened.
“Read,” he said. “You know how I wired to all northern points from New York City, directing the replies to come here. The Plymouth has not been seen at a single point until this message from Trinity. Read,” and the speaker, overcome, could say no more.
They were a family, in a sense, those in the room. Frank read the dispatch which had so affected his old friend. It ran: