“For fifteen minutes,” went on Frank, “under special orders from the Government, the wireless service has been combing the North Atlantic and the air above it with orders to every station and ship in the service to find out what has become of the derelict, Plymouth.”
“What’s that? What’s that?” shouted Professor Barrington, scrambling to his feet with wide eyes.
“From off the Newfoundland coast, near Trinity,” went on Frank Durham, “one response, among over a hundred, came: ‘Steamer Montreal homeward bound with the Plymouth in tow. All on board safe.’”
“The great film! The great film!” chattered rather than spoke the old professor. Then he sank in a heap on the floor.
CHAPTER XV
HIGH HOPES
“Now then, Mr. Jolly,” called out Frank Durham.
His voice echoed across a deal of hollow space, for there were only six people in the auditorium of the Standard photo playhouse. With the exception of Jolly, seated at the organ, and Pep, posted at the electric light switchboard, all the others were standing in the middle aisle—Professor Barrington, Mr. Strapp, Frank and Randy.
The Standard was in complete readiness for the opening two evenings later. Some of the furnishings of the reception hall had not yet arrived, but the auditorium was equipped even to the electric fans, and the organ and piano over which Jolly was to preside.
The musical programme was to be a particular feature of the Standard. Ben Jolly had been for days ransacking the music stores of the city in search of select compositions.
“We’re going to have a crowd ’way up on organ recitals and the like,” he had said, “and I’m going to make that instrument just hum. On the lighter parts I’ll vary with the piano, and its bell and string attachments will go well in the livelier scenes.”