Frank Merriwell's New Comedian: or, The Rise of a Star

“In the final act the hero was in straitened circumstances, but all ends well, with the discomfiture of old Dubad and his worthy son, and the final settlement of all jealousies between the other characters.

“Not only as author of the play, but as the star does Frank Merriwell merit a full meed of credit and praise. Although he is young and impulsive, and his acting might not meet the approval of certain critics, there was a breeziness and freshness about him that captivated and carried the audience. It is said that he has never attended a school of acting, and this may readily be believed, for there is nothing affected, nothing stiff, nothing stilted and mechanical about his work on the stage. In his case, at least, it has been greatly to his advantage not to attend a dramatic school. He is a born actor, and he must work out his own methods without being hampered by convention and instruction from those who believe in doing everything by rule. He is a handsome young man, and his stage presence is both striking and effective. Worthy of note was it that he enunciated every word distinctly and pronounced it correctly, in great contrast to many other stars, who sometimes mangle speech in a most distressing manner. He has a voice that seems in perfect keeping with his splendid figure, being clear as a mellow bell, full of force, and delightful to hear.

“The work of Douglas Dunton as Barry Hattleman was good. Mr. Small, who is a very large man, faithfully portrayed Spruce Downing, the lazy student. Crack Hyerman, the hot-blooded Southerner, as represented by Bartley Hodge, who made the Southerner a thorough fire-eater, who would fight for his ‘honor’ at the drop of the hat. As Reuben Grass, Ephraim Gallup literally convulsed the audience. Without doubt his delineation of the Down-East Yankee was the best ever seen in Denver.

“Miss Cassie Lee played the sweet and winsome Millie Blossom, and her singing and dancing met approval. The Inez Dalton of Miss Stanley was handled with great skill, and she was jealous, passionate, resentful, and loving in turn, and in a manner that seemed true to life. As Nancy Noodle, an old maid in love with Prof. Gash, Miss Agnes Kirk was acceptable.

“And now comes the duty of mentioning a man who was the surprise of the evening. His name was given on the program as William Shakespeare Burns, and, as he represented a burlesque tragedian, it was supposed that the name was assumed. It has been learned, however, that this is the name by which he was known in real life. Mr. Burns first appeared in the second act, and as Edwin Treadwell, the frayed, back-number tragedian, he literally caused many of the audience to choke in the effort to repress their uncontrollable laughter. At the close of the third act, a local theatrical man declared that W. S. Burns far excelled as a comedian anybody he had ever seen essay a similar part. But the sensation came in the fourth act, when the actor started to parody Hamlet’s soliloquy, but seemed to forget himself and the parody together, and swung into the original William Shakespeare. The laughter died out, the audience sat spellbound, scarcely breathing. The eyes of every person were fixed on the actor, who went through the soliloquy to the end, giving it with all the power of a Forrest or a Booth. As the actor retired, the audience awoke, realized it had seen and heard a man who was no clown, but a real tragedian, and the applause was long and loud.

“William Shakespeare Burns did not appear again on the stage of that theater; he will not appear again on any stage. He is dead! But few particulars have been learned about him, but it seems that this was his first attempt to play comedy – and his last. He regarded himself as the equal of any interpreter of Shakespeare, living or dead, but misfortune and his own weakness had never permitted him to rise to the heights to which he aspired. Grim necessity had compelled him to accept Mr. Merriwell’s offer to play in ‘True Blue’ the part of the burlesque tragedian. His heart and soul had rebelled against doing so, and often at rehearsals he had wept with mortification after going through with his part. His body was weakened by privation. He declared last night that his heart was broken. A few minutes after leaving the stage the last time he expired in one of the dressing rooms of the theater. Thus ended a life that might have been a grand success but for the failings of weak human nature.

“Mr. Merriwell will go on the road at once with ‘True Blue.’ He has engaged a competent man to fill the place made vacant by the death of Mr. Burns. His route for some little time is booked, and he leaves Denver to-day for Puelbo, where he opens to-morrow. The play, the star, and the company merit success, and we hope Mr. Merriwell will find it convenient to play a regular engagement in this city before long. It is certain, if he does, he will be greeted by packed houses.” – Denver Herald and Advertiser.

All the Denver papers contained notices of the performance, but the one quoted was the longest and the most elaborate. Not one of the notices was unfavorable. They were enough to make the heart of any manager glad, and it was not strange that Frank felt well satisfied.

But he was inexpressibly saddened by the sudden and tragic death of William Burns, for he had recognized the genius in the old actor, who had been dragged down from a highroad to prosperity and fame by the hands of the relentless demon that has destroyed so many men of genius, drink.

On account of his bookings, Frank could not remain in Denver to attend the funeral of the veteran tragedian, but he resolved that Burns should be buried with all honors, and he made arrangements for a suitable funeral.

Of course, the papers announced the funeral, and, the story of Burns’ remarkable death having become familiar to all, the church was packed to the doors. The man whose wretched life had promised a wretched death and a nameless grave was buried without pomp, but with such honors as might have been given to one well known and highly esteemed.

Above his grave a modest marble was placed, and chiseled on it was a single line from the “Immortal Bard,” whom he loved and understood and interpreted with the faithfulness and fire of genius:

“After life’s fitful fever, he sleeps well.”

And every expense Frank Merriwell provided for. Nothing was neglected; everything was done that good taste and a good heart demanded.

CHAPTER XVI. – THE VEILED WOMAN

As may be understood, the members of Frank’s company were individually and collectively delighted with the apparent success of the play and their efforts. Perhaps Agnes Kirk was the only one who complained. She was not at all pleased by the notices she obtained.

Frank immediately secured a supply of Denver papers and, marking the notices, mailed them to the managers of theaters and the editors of papers along the route “True Blue” was to follow.

Then he had typewritten copies made of extracts from these notices, which he added to his collection of press notices already manufactured for advertising purposes, and sent them on to his advance agent, who had been out on the road several days.

Frank knew how to work every point to the best advantage, and he did not lose anything. He was tireless in his efforts, and it was wonderful what an immense amount of work he accomplished. No one knows how much he can do till he makes the test.

Hodge aided him as far as possible, and Frank found Bart a valuable assistant. Hodge was fully as eager as Merriwell for the play to be a great success.

Frank had opened with the piece under its original name in Puelbo, and it had met disaster there. He vowed that he would return to that place with the play and make a success of his engagement. He engaged the leading theater in the city for three nights, being obliged to pay in advance for it, as the manager had no confidence in the revised play.

Frank had been working the papers of the city. One of them was edited by a remarkably genial gentleman by the name of Osgood, and this editor had seen in the original play material for a strong piece. He admired Merry’s pluck in opening the second time in that city, and he literally opened the columns of his paper to Frank, who telegraphed down extracts from the Denver papers as soon as the notices appeared.

The house in Puelbo was to be well “papered” the first night, but was to depend entirely on the drawing qualities of the play for the audience on the following two nights.

Frank was making a great hustle to get away from Denver, and he was returning from the theater to his hotel, after seeing the last of the special scenery moved to the railroad station, when a heavily veiled woman stopped directly in his path. As he was walking hastily, he nearly ran against her.

“I beg your pardon, madam!” exclaimed Frank, lifting his hat. “Very awkward of me.”

“Not at all,” she said, in a low voice, that was not unpleasant nor unmusical. “You were hurrying, and I stopped directly in your way. I am the one who should beg to be excused.”

“Not at all,” he hastened to say. “I assure you that it was entirely on account of my awkwardness.”

He was about to pass on, but her gloved hand fell on his arm, and she said:

“I wish to speak with you, Mr. Merriwell.”

“You know me?” exclaimed Frank, surprised.

“Indeed, I do. Why should I not? All Denver knows you to-day.”

“Am I so famous as that?” smiled Merry. “I fear you flatter, madam.”

“It is not flattery. You must not doubt my sincerity.”

“Very well, I will not; but you must speak hastily, for I have a train to catch in an hour and thirty minutes, and I haven’t too much time to attend to all I have to do.”

“But you must give me a little of your time – you really must,” she said, persuasively, putting her hand on his arm again. “If you will come with me – please do!”

“Where?”

“Oh, I know a nice, quiet place, where we can talk.”

Somehow Frank did not like her words or manner. A feeling that there was something wrong about her came over him.

“Really, you must excuse me,” he said. “I have not the time to go anywhere to talk. If you have anything to say to me, you can say it here.”

“Now, don’t be obstinate. You’ll not regret it if you come.”

“But I do not even know who you are. That veil – ”

“If you come, I may remove the veil,” she murmured.

Frank drew back, so that her hand fell from his arm.

“Madam,” he said, “you have placed me in a very awkward position. I do not like to appear rude to a lady, but – ”

“Of course you do not, and so you will grant my request. It is a small matter.”

“But not to me, for my time is valuable just now. I am ready to hear anything you have to say, but you must say it here.”

“Would you keep a lady standing on the street?” she exclaimed, with a slight show of resentment. “I cannot say all I have to tell you in a minute.”

“And I have explained that I cannot spare time to talk over anything for more than a few moments. I think you will have to excuse me. Good-day.”

He lifted his hat and started to pass on, but again she placed herself squarely in front of him, to his great annoyance.

“Mr. Merriwell,” she said, “I have seen you on the stage, and I admire you greatly. You will not be rude to one of your admirers, I know. You are far too gallant for that.”

It was plain she sought to cajole him by flattery, and that was the surest way to repulse him.

“Is it possible she is one of those foolish women who fall in love with actors?” Frank asked himself.

Somehow she did not seem like that. There was nothing of the giddy, gushing girl about her. He could not see her face, but her figure was that of a matured woman, and he judged that she must be twenty-five years old, at least. It seemed, too, that there was a purpose in her words and movements.

But Frank resolved on action, for he had found that it was useless to waste words talking to her. He made a quick move to one side and passed her, intending to hasten away.

Barely had he done so when she flung her arms about his neck and screamed loudly!

Frank was astounded by this unexpected move of the veiled woman.

“She’s crazy!”

That was the thought that flashed through Merry’s mind.

He realized that he was in an awkward predicament, and he attempted to whirl about.

The woman was very strong, and, having taken him by surprise, she nearly threw him down. To save himself, he caught hold of her.

“Help!” she cried.

Some men came running up.

“Madam,” said Frank, hurriedly, “are you demented? What is the meaning of this?”

“You wretch!” she blazed. “Oh, you cowardly scoundrel, to assault a lady on the public street in broad daylight!”

“Surely you are – ”

“I saw him do it!” declared a little man, with red whiskers. “I saw him assault you, madam.”

“Call an officer!” palpitated the woman. “Quick, before he gets away!”

“He shall not get away,” declared a big man with a crooked eye, glowering at Frank. “If he tries it, I’ll attend to him!”

“Looks like a would-be masher,” piped a slim man, with a very long neck, ducking and nodding his head in an odd manner. “He should be taught a lesson.”

One or two others expressed themselves in a similar manner.

Frank had thought of making a break and hastening away, but now he saw it would not do, for he would have a howling mob at his heels the instant he attempted such a move. He realized it would seem cowardly to run away in such a manner, and would look like a confession of guilt, which caused him to decide to stay and face it out, even though the predicament was most embarrassing.

“Gentlemen,” he said, looking squarely at them, and seeming to pay very little attention to the mysterious woman, even though he was perfectly on his guard, not knowing what move she might make next, “I trust you will give me a chance to explain what has happened.”

“Explain it in the police court,” growled the big man with a crooked eye. “That’s the proper place for you to make your explanations.”

“The judge will listen to you,” cried the slim man, his head bobbing on his long neck, like the head of a crane that is walking along the edge of a marsh.

“Don’t attempt to escape by means of falsehoods, you rascal!” almost shouted the little man with the red whiskers, bristling up in a savage manner, but dodging back the moment Frank turned on him.

“Gentlemen, I have been insulted by this fellow!” came from behind the baffling veil worn by the woman. “He is a low wretch, who attacked me in a most brutal manner.”

“We will see that you are protected, madam,” assured the little man, his red whiskers seeming to bristle like porcupine quills, as he dodged round Frank and placed himself on the opposite side of the veiled unknown. “Madam,” he repeated, “I will see that you are protected – I will!”

“You are very kind,” she fluttered; “but where is the officer? The reaction – the shock – the weakness!”

“Permit me to offer you any assistance possible,” gallantly spoke a man in a sack coat and a silk hat, stepping forward and raising the latter piece of wearing apparel, thereby disclosing a shining bald spot on the top of his head, which he covered as quickly as possible, evidently hoping it had escaped the woman’s notice. “You are in a city, my dear lady, where insults to the fair sex never go unpunished.”

He attempted to smile on her in a pleasant manner, but there was a sort of leer in his eyes and around his sensual mouth that betrayed his true character plainly enough.

The woman did not accept his arm which was half tendered, but she made a great show of agitation and distress, which affected the various witnesses.

“It’s a shame!” piped the man with the long neck and the bobbing head.

“It’s an outrage!” blustered the little man with the bristling whiskers and savage manner.

“It’s most unfortunate!” murmured the gallant man with the silk hat and sack coat.

“It’s a bad break for Mr. Masher!” ejaculated the big man with the crooked eye and glowering look.

Frank smiled; he could not help it, for he was impressed by the comedy of the affair, despite the unpleasantness of the situation he was in at that moment.

“This would be good stuff for a scene in a play,” he thought, and he made a mental note of it.

Then he turned to the woman.

“Madam,” he said, “what have I ever done to you that you should attempt to injure me in this manner?”

“Don’t let him speak to me, the scoundrel!” she entreated, appealing to the men.

“But it is no more than fair that you should answer me,” persisted Merry. “I do not know you; I have not even seen your face. Will you not lift your veil and permit me to see your face, so that I may know who has brought me into this unpleasant position?”

“He adds to his insults by requesting me to expose my identity on the street after such an affair as this!” she almost sobbed. “He would disgrace me! He would have my name in all the newspapers!”

“Reprehensible!” purred the gallant man.

“Terrible!” cackled the man with the bobbing head.

“Dastardly!” exploded the individual with the red whiskers.

“Criminal!” grated the giant with the crooked eye.

And they all glared at Frank – at least all of them but the one with the crooked eye. It is possible that he, also, glared at the supposed offender, but he seemed to be glaring at a white horse on the opposite side of the street.

Repressing his laughter with difficulty, Merry said:

“I assure you, gentlemen, I never saw this lady, to my knowledge, before a few minutes ago, when she stopped me on the street, and – ”

Again the woman screamed.

“Will you listen to his base falsehoods?” she cried, with a show of the greatest indignation and distress. “He is trying to disgrace me still further by asserting that I stopped him on the street – stopped him! As if a lady would do such a thing!”

“The idea!” squawked the man with the long neck, his head seeming to bob faster than ever, as if it sought to express by its excited movements the indignant emotions his tongue could not utter.

“My dear lady, I would not remain here to be thus insulted,” declared the gallant man, bending toward her, and endeavoring to summon a look of concern to his treacherous countenance.

“He should be placed in irons!” blurted the fierce-appearing little man, his red whiskers seeming to work and squirm with intense excitement and anger.

“He ought to have his head broken!” roared the big man, his crooked eye still seeming to glare at the white horse in a most terrible and awesome manner.

Others of the assembled crowd murmured to themselves in a most indignant manner, all seeming to regard Frank as the offender.

Frank took out his watch and looked at it.

“Gracious!” he mentally exclaimed, “time is flying. If this keeps up much longer, I’ll not reach Puelbo to-day.”

“Now he shows his anxiety and concern,” said a voice in the crowd.

“He’s beginning to be frightened,” said another voice.

“He’s anxious to get away,” said a third.

“But he can’t get away,” said a fourth.

“This is all very interesting,” thought Frank; “but it is decidedly unpleasant.”

“Waal, whut in time’s sake is goin’ on here, I’d like ter know?” cried a voice that was familiar to Frank, and a tall, lank, countrified-appearing youth came up to the outskirts of the crowd, stood on his tiptoes, and peered over.

It was Ephraim Gallup, and he saw Frank.

“Waal, darned if it ain’t – ”

Merry made a swift movement, clapping a finger to his lips, and Gallup, usually rather slow to tumble to anything, understood him at once, relapsing into silence.

“Let me git in here where I kin see the fun,” he said, and he elbowed the people aside as he forced his way through the crowd.

It did not take him long to reach the center of the throng, although a number of persons were indignant at his manner of thrusting them aside or stepping on their feet.

“Whut’s up?” he asked. “Ef there’s anything goin’ on, I kainder want to see it.”

“This young masher has insulted this lady!” explained the man with the bobbing head.

“Sho!” exclaimed Gallup. “Yeou don’t say so, mister! Waal, I am s’prised!”

“He has treated her in an outrageous manner!” added the man with the agitated and fiery whiskers.

“I do declare!” ejaculated Ephraim. “I’d never thought it of him, by thutter!”

“The lady requires protection,” declared the gallant man with the mismated wearing apparel.

“Yeou don’t tell me!” gasped the Vermonter, his surprise seeming to increase. “Ain’t it awful!”

“But the fellow needs a lesson!” rasped the man with the eye that persisted in looking in the wrong direction. “I think I’ll hit him once or twice.”

“My gracious!” fluttered Gallup. “Hev ye gotter hit him real hard? Don’t yeou s’pose he might hit back?”

“Let him try it!” came fiercely from the giant.

“Be yeou goin’ to hit where ye’re lookin’?” asked the country youth. “Cause ef yeou be, I’d advise that man with the wart on his nose to move.”

At this the man who owned the wart dodged with a suddenness that provoked a titter of laughter from several witnesses.

Ephraim was adding to the comedy of the affair, and Frank bit his lips to keep from laughing outright, despite his annoyance over being thus detained.

The big man with the crooked eye flourished his fists in the air in a most belligerent fashion, and instantly Merriwell gazed at him sternly, saying:

“Be careful, sir! You are imperiling the lives of everyone near you, and you may strain yourself.”

“That’s right, by gum!” nodded Gallup, whimsically. “Yeou may warp one of them air arms, flingin’ it araound so gol-darn permiscuous like.”

“Here comes an officer!”

Somebody uttered the cry.

“It is high time!” exclaimed the little man, trying to soothe his agitated whiskers by pulling at them.

“It surely is,” croaked the lank individual, his head bobbing with renewed excitement.

“Madam, the law will give you redress,” bowed the gallant man, again taking off his silk hat and again clapping it on suddenly, as if a breath of cool air on his shining pate had warned him of the exposure he was making.

“Oh, why didn’t the officer stay away a minute longer, so I might have thumped him!” regretfully grunted the fighting man with the misdirected eye.

The policeman came up and forced his way through the crowd, demanding:

“What does this mean? What is happening here?”

“A lady is in trouble,” the bobbing man hastened to explain.

“In serious trouble,” chirped the bewhiskered man.

“She has been insulted,” declared the gallant man.

“By a masher,” finished the man with the errant eye.

“Where is the lady?” asked the officer.

“There!”

All bowed politely toward the masked woman.

“Where is the masher?” was the next question.

“There!”

Their scornful fingers were leveled straight at Frank Merriwell.

CHAPTER XVII. – ARRESTED

“Oh, sir!” exclaimed the woman, “I beg you to protect me from his insults!”

The officer was a gallant fellow. He touched his hat and bowed with extreme politeness. Then he frowned on Merry, and that frown was terrible to behold. He gripped Frank by the collar, gruffly saying:

“You’ll have to come with me.”

Merry knew it was useless to attempt to explain under such circumstances. Every one of the assembled crowd would be a witness against him.

“Very well,” he said, quietly. “I am quite willing to do so. Please do not twist my necktie off.”

“Don’t worry about your necktie!” advised the policeman, giving it a still harder twist. “I know how to deal with chaps of your caliber.”

Now of a sudden Ephraim Gallup began to grow angry. He did not fancy seeing his idol treated in such a manner, and his fists were clenched, while he glared at the officer as if contemplating hitting that worthy.

“It’s a gol-dern shame!” he grated. “This jest makes my blood bile!”

“I don’t wonder a bit,” piped the long-necked man, misunderstanding the Vermonter; “but the officer will take care of him now. He’ll get what he deserves.”

“Oh, will he!” exploded Gallup. “Waal, ef I was yeou, I’d hire myself aout to some dime museum as the human bobber. Yeou teeter jest like a certun bird that I won’t name.”