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Moving Picture Girls, The

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<h2>CHAPTER XXIII</h2> <h3>THE MISSING MODEL</h3> Two notes were quickly written. One was left on the table in the girls' apartment, telling their father that they were going out for a little while, to try to locate Russ on a matter of some importance connected with the moving pictures. "There's no use telling daddy what has happened," said Alice. "He would only worry, and really there's no danger. We are merely going to warn Russ. He'll have to look after the men himself. But daddy would be sure to think we would get into some trouble. So we may as well not bother him." "All right!" agreed Ruth. She was entering into the spirit of the affair now. Her eyes were shining and her cheeks vied in hue with those of Alice. The other note, marked "Urgent!" was thrust under the kitchen door of the Dalwood flat. "They'll be sure to see that," remarked Alice. "And, no matter if only Billy comes home first, he'll know what to do," for the story of the men's talk in the restaurant had been briefly set down on the paper. Then, but not without many misgivings, the girls set out to try to find Russ. "We can call up the studio on the telephone," suggested Alice, as she and her sister reached the street. "That will be the quickest way. If Russ isn't there they may be able to tell us where he is, or Mr. Pertell may know where the model is—I mean the machine shop where the apparatus is being turned out." "That's so," agreed Ruth. "Why, we could have used one of the telephones in the apartment!" "No, some of the neighbors would overhear us, and we don't want that." "Why not?" Ruth wanted to know. "Because you can't tell but one of those men may be watching this place, and some of the neighbors may be in league with them. Besides, all the telephones here are on party wires, and when you talk over one, some of the other subscribers on the same circuit may listen, for all we can tell. It isn't safe." "My! You think of everything!" exclaimed Ruth, admiringly. "How do you manage it?" "Oh, it just seems to come to me," replied Alice, with a laugh. "Come on," she added, after they had walked a little way. "There's a drug store and there's a telephone booth in it. Do you want to talk to Russ, in case he's there?" "Oh, no, you'd better," responded Ruth, blushing. "I will not. I'll call up the studio, but if he's there I want you to be the one to tell him. He'll appreciate it." "All right," agreed Ruth, and the blush grew deeper. Alice quickly got the number of the moving picture studio. There was a private branch exchange there, and Alice knew the girl operator. "I want to get Russ Dalwood in a hurry," Alice explained to Miss Miller, who ran the switchboard. "You try the different departments until you find him. I'll be here, holding the wire." "All right!" returned Miss Miller, in crisp, business-like tones. Perhaps she suspected that something was wrong. Then ensued a nervous waiting. Alice opened the door of the booth and told Ruth what she had done. "I'll let you talk to Russ as soon as he answers," she said. Ruth nodded understandingly. But it seemed that Russ was not to be so easily found. Through her receiver Alice could hear Miss Miller ringing the telephones in the different departments of the big studio building. One after the other was tried, from the office to the dark developing rooms, and then the printing rooms. Most of the employees had gone for the day, but such as were present evidently made answer that the young moving picture operator was not there. "I can't locate him," said Miss Miller to Alice, finally. "They say he was here about a half-hour ago, but has gone out." "Don't they know where he went?" asked Alice. "It's very important that we find him." "I'll see if anyone knows," came back the answer. Then ensued more waiting, but at the end came a gleam of hope. "Mr. Blackson, in the camera room, says he heard Russ say he was going to the Odeon Theater," Miss Miller stated. "He is trying to get one of his attachments tried there." "Where is the Odeon?" asked Alice, nervously drumming with her fingers on the telephone shelf. "It's on Eightieth Street somewhere. Wait, I'll look up the telephone number for you. They take our service, you know." In a few seconds Miss Miller had given the desired information, and then Alice said "good-bye" to her, frantically working the receiver hook of her instrument up and down to call the attention of the main central operator. "And give them a good, long ring!" Alice added, as she gave the number. "It's very important." "Very well," answered central. There came more waiting. It was a bad time to get anyone, for it was now shortly after six o'clock, just when most persons were leaving for home or supper. "Can't you get them?" asked Ruth, as Alice opened the 'phone booth door for a breath of air. "I'm trying, dear. He'd left the studio, but may be at a moving picture theater. There, they've answered at last!" Alice pulled the door shut with her disengaged hand, and spoke eagerly into the transmitter. "Is Mr. Russ Dalwood there? It's very important!" Ruth saw the look of dismay that came over her sister's face. Then through the double glass door she heard Alice say: "He's gone! And you don't know where? Left ten minutes ago? Oh dear!" Slowly she hung up the receiver. There seemed nothing else to do. She came out of the booth, her face showing her disappointment. "He's gone, Ruth," she said. "What had we better do?" "I think the only thing to do is to go back home and wait for him. He may be there now. Or his mother or Billy may. Come on home." It was Ruth who was directing now, and Alice, after a moment of thought, saw that this was the only thing to do. Quickly they retraced their steps to the apartment house. Without stopping to enter their own flat they knocked on the Dalwood door. A few seconds of anxious waiting brought no answer. "Not home yet!" exclaimed Alice. "Oh, what a shame." Ruth turned to their own flat. Entering with a pass-key she saw at a glance that their father had not come home. The note for him was still on the table. Then, as puzzled and disappointed, the two girls stood in the center of the room, they heard someone coming up the stairs that led to their flat. A second later and a merry whistle broke out. "There he is—that's Russ!" cried Alice, joyfully. "I'll tell him; no—you go!" she added hastily, thrusting her sister before her into the hallway. The whistle broke off into a discord as Russ saw Ruth standing waiting for him. Something in her face must have told him something was the matter, for he came up the remaining steps three at a time. "What is it? What has happened?" he asked. "Is someone hurt?" "No, it's your patent—the model. Some men—Alice and I overheard them in the restaurant—we've been trying to get you on the 'phone—I—we——" Then Alice broke in. "They're after your moving picture machine patent, Russ! They're going to get it to-night—Simp Wolley! You've got to hurry!" Between them the girls quickly told what they had overheard. Russ's eyes snapped. "So that's the game; is it?" he cried. "Well, I'll stop them! I'm mighty glad you told me. My patent model, the drawings and everything are at Burton's machine shop. It isn't far from here. I'll go right away—in a taxicab. Do you——" he hesitated a moment. "Do you want to come?" "We might be able to help," suggested Alice to Ruth. "At any rate, we'll have to give evidence against those men if they get them. Shall we go, Ruth?" "I—I think so—yes." "Bravo!" whispered Alice in her ear. "That note to daddy will answer. You'd better leave another in place of the one we wrote to you, Russ." "I will," he exclaimed as he entered his own flat. "But mother and Billy won't be home until late, anyhow. They're going to stay to supper with relatives. Still, I'll explain in case I should be delayed." Quickly he dashed off another note for his mother, and then, with the two girls, he hurried down to the street. There was a taxicab stand just around the corner, and the three were quickly on their way to the machine shop, while Ruth and Alice took turns giving more details of the scene in the restaurant. "Here we are!" announced Russ, a little later, as the cab drew up, with a screeching of brakes, in front of a rather dingy building. "I only hope we're in time, and that Burton hasn't gone yet." He jumped out of the cab, leaving Ruth and Alice sitting there. Frantically he threw open the door and rushed up the shop stairs. "Oh, I do hope he is in time," breathed Ruth, softly. "So do I," spoke Alice. "I wonder how men can be so mean as to want to take what isn't theirs?" "I don't know, dear. Oh, hasn't this been an exciting day?" "I should say it had. If ever—there's Russ now!" she interrupted herself to exclaim. "Oh, Ruth. It looks as though we were too late!" For Russ, with a dejected look on his face, was crossing the pavement toward the cab. "It—it's gone," he said brokenly. "Simp Wolley was here a half-hour ago and got it!" "But how could he?" asked Alice in surprise. "Who gave it to him?" "Mr. Burton. There was a forged order, supposed to be from me, and the machinist handed over the model," and Russ extended a crumpled and grimy bit of paper. <hr style="width: 65%;" /> <div style="break-after:column;"></div>

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