Jimmy Martin became the focus point of more importunate newsgatherers than he had ever fancied, in his wildest dreams, would assail him for information and when a delegation of correspondents from a half dozen London papers looked in on him at eight o’clock and told him that they had been instructed to rush as much stuff as the cables would carry he almost passed into a trance.
“Mac,” he confided to the manager when the English correspondents had gone, “I feel like the fellow who looked at the giraffe and said ‘there ain’t no such animal.’ There ain’t no such story. It’s a dream.”
“Well, I’ve left instructions that we’re not to be called,” returned McClintock. “Let’s dream a little more.”
In the star dressing room on the big stage of the open air auditorium Lolita Murphy was getting ready for the evening performance of “Secret Service Sallie,” and was making a brave effort to control herself. She was as forgotten as yesterday’s newspaper and the realization of it sent great tears of bitter disappointment coursing down her rouged cheeks into the make-up box on the little table in front of which she sat.
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It was nearly midnight when Bobby Wilkins’ chauffeur reported over the telephone to Jimmy Martin and McClintock, who had been keeping anxious vigil in the office all night.
“There ain’t a sign of him,” he said hurriedly. “I waited right where you told me to wait, and if he’d have been anywhere within a couple of miles I could have seen him after it got dark. The moon has been shining bright for a long time, and I had a pair of glasses with me. I’m afraid it’s all up with him if he hasn’t landed some place else along the coast. It’s tough for all of us if anything’s gone wrong, ain’t it?”
The chauffeur was instructed to make another trip to the selected landing place and to stay there until dawn when relief was promised. Jimmy was pale and over-wrought when he hung up the telephone receiver and turned to McClintock.
“If he had landed any place else,” he remarked, “he’d have made every effort to get to a phone. He’d know we’d be worried. Gee, Mac, supposin’ somethin’s happened to ’em. If there has little old Robert B. Remorse’ll be my side-partner for life. He told me he’d be prepared for all emergencies and he’s there with the nerve, but maybe they ran into a squall or something. Why’d I ever think of this stunt? I’ve got too much imagination, Mac, I’ve got to teach it to lie down and behave.”