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No. 77
Bound-to-Win Library

[Illustration: Cover.]


AHEAD OF THE SHOW

Or

The Adventures of Al Allston, Advance Agent

By

FRED THORPE,

Author of "Blind Luck," "The Boy in Black,"
"Chris, the Comedian," "Git Up and Git,"
"Walt, the Wonder Worker," etc....







[Illustration]

Street and Smith, Publishers
238 William Street, New York

Copyright, 1897
By Norman L. Munro

Ahead of the Show




CONTENTS

       I.  AL MAKES APPLICATION.               5
      II.  AL TALKS BUSINESS.                 12
     III.  AL'S SCHEME.                       17
      IV.  AL TO THE RESCUE.                  24
       V.  AL CLAIMS HIS REWARD.              29
      VI.  ANOTHER ROCK AHEAD.                35
     VII.  THE DEBUT.                         41
    VIII.  A STARTLING SITUATION.             47
      IX.  A CLOSE CALL.                      53
       X.  AN INTERVIEW WITH THE MAYOR.       61
      XI.  IN PERIL.                          67
     XII.  INTERVIEWED.                       73
    XIII.  A STROKE OF LUCK.                  80
     XIV.  AL'S AD.                           87
      XV.  SAVED BY A SHADOW.                 91
     XVI.  A LESSON IN JOURNALISM.            97
    XVII.  "I WANT YOU."                     103
   XVIII.  MR. MARMADUKE MERRY.              109
     XIX.  A STARTLING ACKNOWLEDGMENT.       115
      XX.  THE LOCKET.                       121
     XXI.  BROTHER AND SISTER.               127
    XXII.  AN AWFUL CATASTROPHE.             133
   XXIII.  AN EVENTFUL NIGHT.                139
    XXIV.  A CLEW.                           145
     XXV.  ON THE TRACK.                     151
    XXVI.  "DR. FERGUSON."                   157
   XXVII.  AN UNLUCKY ERROR.                 163
  XXVIII.  AN EXCITING INTERVIEW.            169
    XXIX.  A DANGEROUS JOB AHEAD.            175
     XXX.  HARD LUCK.                        181
    XXXI.  A WOMAN'S VENGEANCE.              187
   XXXII.  AND LAST.                         193




AHEAD OF THE SHOW.




CHAPTER I.

AL MAKES APPLICATION.


"If I had that fellow here I'd make him wish he'd never heard the name
of Augustus Wattles. And I'll do it some day, too."

The manager and proprietor of Wattles' New York Comedy Company was very,
very "mad." His naturally florid face was redder than usual, and his
fists were clinched in a manner that augured no good to the "fellow"
referred to, had that individual chanced to appear upon the scene at
this precise moment.

He stood at the door of the Boomville Opera House, in company with the
local manager, Mr. Cyrus Perley, who seemed in some degree to share his
discomfiture and anger.

A group of stragglers listened in silence to their conversation, gazing
at them with that peculiar and unaccountable reverence that many people
feel for members of the theatrical profession.

"It's pretty tough," said Mr. Perley, "but it isn't my fault."

"I know it isn't. Well, this is the last time that loafer will play that
trick on me. He thinks that because I have been easy with him in the
past there is no end to my patience. I'll show him that he is making the
mistake of his life."

"Of course, you will discharge him?"

"You had better believe I will. A healthy sort of advance agent he is!
Think of my bringing my company to a town of the importance of
Boomville, to find that absolutely no advance work has been done, that
my advance agent, to whom I pay a fancy salary, has not even showed his
face in the town."

"I suppose he has succumbed to his old complaint?" said Mr. Perley.

"Of course; he is drunk beyond the shadow of a doubt, and may not show
up again for a week. Well, when he does, he'll meet with a warm
reception from me. We ought to have had an eight-hundred-dollar house
to-night, and now we'll be lucky if we take in half that amount."

"I don't expect we'll do as well as that. It wouldn't have made so much
difference under ordinary circumstances, but, as luck will have it,
they've got the strongest attraction of the season at the other
house--the 'Crack of Doom' Company. You know that's a big puller
everywhere."

"Sure. They have a railway collision, a tank of real water, a buzz saw
and two real lunatics in the insane asylum scene."

"Yes, and their advance man has worked the show up in great shape here.
According to him, the leading lady lost nine thousand dollars' worth of
diamonds on her way here, and the soubrette is going to marry Chauncey
Depew. And they give souvenirs to-night in honor of the five hundredth
performance of the piece."

"They've been giving that five hundredth performance in every town
they've played in for the last month; and their souvenirs are not worth
over fifty cents a gross."

"All very true, but the public will have 'em. I hoped your advance man
would have some taking counter-attraction."

"So he did have, but---- Oh, well, it's no use talking about that.
What's done can't be helped, but I won't be left in this way again.
Where is the nearest telegraph office?"

"On the next block. What are you going to do?"

"Wire to New York for a new advance agent. I happen to know of an A1 man
who is out of an engagement. There are two or three others after him,
but I guess I can make it worth his while to go with me. I won't get
left in this way again, you can bet your boots!"

"That's all right," growled Mr. Perley, "but it doesn't help out the
present engagement any."

"No, but we are joint sufferers in that, and we may as well grin and
bear it."

And the irate manager of the New York Comedy Company started for the
telegraph office with fire in his eyes and a look of determination on
his face.

Neither he nor Mr. Perley had observed the presence in the little group
of listeners to their conversation of a rather good-looking,
well-dressed boy of about eighteen.

This lad did not lose a word of the excited discussion, and, as the
manager started to walk away, he muttered:

"This is the chance I have been looking for; I won't let the opportunity
slip. It doesn't seem as if there would be much hope for me, but there's
no harm in trying, anyhow."

He followed Mr. Wattles, and just before that gentleman reached the
telegraph office he tapped him on the shoulder.

The manager turned quickly. When he saw the boy, he asked, impatiently:

"Well, what is it?"

"Can I speak with you a few minutes, sir?"

"Not now, not now."

Mr. Wattles was about to resume his walk, but the boy laid a detaining
hand on his arm.

"I want to see you on business, sir."

"You have business with me?"

"Important business, sir."

"Well, well, I'll see you in a few minutes; I've got to send an
important telegram now."

"But I want to see you before you send that telegram."

"Before I send the telegram? Why?"

"Because I think I can prove to you that it is not necessary to wire to
New York at all."

"Eh? Why, how did you know that I was going to wire to New York?"

"I overheard what you said to Mr. Perley in front of the opera house
just now."

"Humph! I was excited, and spoke a little louder than I ought. Well,
why do you think it will not be necessary for me to send the telegram?"

"Because I am sure you can find just the person you want right here in
Boomville."

"An advance agent to be picked up offhand in this place? That would be
too much luck. What is your man's name?"

"Allen Allston."

"I never heard of him. What company was he with last?"

"He has never been with any company, sir, but----"

Mr. Wattles surveyed the boy with a look of supreme disgust.

"Do you suppose for one moment," he interrupted, "that I am going to
take an inexperienced jay from a town like this and send him ahead of an
organization like Wattles' New York Comedy Company? Well, hardly. I've
got to have an experienced man."

"And you're going to telegraph for one now, sir?"

"This minute."

"But suppose you can't get the man you want--will you talk with me then,
sir?"

"Er--yes, in that case you might send your friend to see me, though it
seems nonsense. But I shall get my man all right."

"I suppose you are going to request an immediate answer to your
telegram, Mr. Wattles?"

"I am; I shall get it within an hour, in all probability."

"Where can I find you after you have received it?"

"At the hotel next door. You are a persistent young rascal; your friend
has a good advocate in you."

The boy smiled.

"I am the best friend he has in the world," he said.

"Well, if you are you had better advise him to stick to farming, or
whatever he is doing, and keep out of the theatrical business; we have
too many farmers in it already."

"He wouldn't take the advice, sir."

Mr. Wattles laughed as he entered the telegraph office.

"If the boy's friend has got as much 'go' as he has," he muttered, "he
might do something in the business."

In a few minutes the message had been sent. An hour and a half later a
messenger entered the lobby of the hotel with a telegram.

"For me?" questioned the manager, who had been impatiently pacing the
floor for the last twenty minutes.

"Yes, sir."

Mr. Wattles tore open the envelope.

A muttered exclamation escaped his lips as he hurriedly perused the
message.

"Well, sir?" said a voice at his elbow.

Turning, he confronted the lad with whom he had had the brief interview
which we have recorded.

"You here? Well, you do mean business."

"Is your offer accepted, sir?" the boy asked.

"Confound it, no! The man I wanted signed yesterday with another
manager. Well, send your friend round and I'll talk with him."

"He is here, sir."

"Where?"

"I am Allen Allston."




CHAPTER II.

AL TALKS BUSINESS.


Mr. Wattles stared at the boy a moment in speechless surprise, then
burst into a loud laugh.

"You don't mean to say," he almost gasped, "that you made that
application for yourself?"

"That's just what I mean to say, sir," replied the lad, quietly.

"Why, you must be crazy!"

"I don't think I am."

"You are only a boy."

"I'll get over that in time, Mr. Wattles; and besides, that fact is no
proof that I am crazy."

"Oh, pshaw! I can't stand here bandying words with you."

Al was not in the least taken aback.

"That's just what I was thinking," he said.

"What?"

"That we had been standing up too long. Let's sit down."

"Well," said the manager, "you have cheek enough, anyhow."

"Cheek is necessary for an advance agent, isn't it, sir?" laughed the
boy.

"Yes, but--oh, really, this is ridiculous, you know!"

"What is ridiculous?"

"Your applying for this position."

"Why is it ridiculous?"

"Who ever heard of a boy advance agent?"

"That's just the point. Nobody ever did, and it will be a complete
novelty, and a big ad. for the show."

Mr. Wattles gazed at the boy almost admiringly.

"Well, you are a corker!" he exclaimed.

"A good advance agent ought to be a corker, oughtn't he, sir?"

"I suppose so--yes."

"Shan't we sit down and talk the matter over?"

"Yes."

And the manager sank into a convenient chair, gazing at his youthful
companion with an expression indicative of bewilderment.

"I've got him now sure," murmured the lad, but his companion did not
hear him; Al did not intend that he should.

When they were both seated the boy said:

"Now, sir, you want an advance agent, and I want a position. It is lucky
we met."

"Yes," interrupted Mr. Wattles, "but what the mischief do you know about
the business of an advance agent?"

"A lot," was the calm reply.

"How did you learn it?"

"By reading and observation."

"Nonsense! You might as well talk about learning to swing on a trapeze
by reading and observation."

"There's a big difference, sir."

"Not much."

"Well, I've always thought I should like to do work of that sort, and I
think I could do it well."

"Stage-struck, eh?"

"Not a bit of it, Mr. Wattles. Now, will you listen to me a few moments,
sir?"

"Go ahead."

And the manager assumed an air of resignation.

"I generally keep my eyes open," began the boy, "and I have had a chance
to watch the movements of most of the theatrical people who come to this
town, particularly the advance agents."

"Why the advance agents in particular?" interrupted Mr. Wattles.

"Because I have been in the editorial office of the Boomville _Herald_,
and have had a chance to see how they work the press. Some of them are
very slick, but I think that if I had a little experience I should be as
slick as any of them."

"Ah," said the manager, "that's the point. You haven't had experience."

"Well, I've got to begin some time, sir. If all managers had talked like
you the race of advance agents would have been extinct long ago."

"There's something in that," laughed Mr. Wattles.

"There's lots in it."

The manager of the New York Comedy Company surveyed his companion for a
few moments without speaking.

"My boy, I rather like you," he said, at last.

"Well, that's one point in my favor, sir," said Al.

"I'd like to give you a chance, but I really do not see how I can."

"Why can't you?"

"You must remember that the New York Comedy Company is not a common,
fly-by-night organization, but a first-class enterprise. I have put a
good many dollars into the thing, and I can't afford to experiment. If
so much did not depend upon the result, if I were running a cheap side
show, I might give you the trial you ask, but----"

"I wouldn't have anything to do with any such show," interrupted the
boy. "I don't intend to be that sort of advance agent. But I can
understand how you feel, sir."

"Then you can also understand how impossible it is for me to engage your
services."

"Oh, no, I can't understand that at all, Mr. Wattles. Now let me ask you
a question."

"What is it?"

"I heard you tell Mr. Perley that you did not expect there would be four
hundred dollars in the house to-night."

"That's what I said. I shall be agreeably disappointed if there is as
much as that."

"Yet the opera house will hold twelve hundred dollars."

"I see you are posted, my boy."

"I am. Now, Mr. Wattles, it is a little out of the line of an advance
agent's work, but, just to show you that I have a little snap and
business ability, I will guarantee to fill the opera house to its utmost
capacity to-night, if you will agree to give me a chance as advance
agent after that."

"Do you know what you are talking about?"

And the manager stared in renewed amazement at the youth.

"I do."

"You will undertake to fill the house to-night, in spite of the
disadvantages under which we are laboring?"

"The 'Standing Room Only' sign will be displayed before eight o'clock."

"Well, what is your scheme?"

"You will agree to follow my suggestions?"

"Not until I hear them."

"If you don't like them you will agree not to repeat anything I may say
to you?"

"Certainly."

"Then I'll give you my idea. I see you are getting ready to guy me,
sir," as a rather cynical smile appeared upon the manager's face.

"Oh, no."

"You don't think I can knock out such a strong opposition as the 'Crack
of Doom' Company, do you?"

"I do not."

"Well, I'll show you that I can, and get you not only a full house, but
the elite of the place."

"Well, well," interrupted Mr. Wattles, impatiently, "have done with
preliminaries and let me know how you propose to accomplish all this."




CHAPTER III.

AL'S SCHEME.


"Mr. Wattles," said Al, in a low tone, "I suppose you have in your time
met a few stage-struck amateurs--people who thought they knew it all,
and only needed a chance to show the world that they were the equal of
anyone who ever trod the boards?"

The manager laughed.

"I should say yes. The woods are full of them."

"Well, we have one here."

"Only one?"

"There are others, but one whom it will be worth your while to know."

"Who is she?--for it is a woman, of course."

"Yes, sir, it is a woman; she is the wife of the mayor."

"The wife of the mayor of Boomville stage-struck?"

"In the worst way, Mr. Wattles; she believes herself the only legitimate
successor of Charlotte Cushman."

"They all do. Well, what has all this to do with your scheme?"

"A good deal. Mrs. Anderson--that is her name--is very anxious to appear
on the professional stage."

"Of course."

"Why can't you give her a chance?"

"Eh? I? How?"

"Send her word that one of your actresses has been taken suddenly ill,
and ask her to take her place. She'll do it, take my word for that, and
all Boomville will go to see her."

"Well, you must be crazy, young man," said Mr. Wattles, in a tone of
disgust. "So that is your scheme, is it?"

"That is part of it."

"Well, it won't work."

"Why not?"

"For a dozen reasons. If I had two or three weeks to work up the thing
it would be different; then it would, perhaps, be a good scheme. But you
seem to forget that the performance takes place to-night."

"There's plenty of time to work up business," said Al, calmly. "It is
not ten o'clock yet. See Mrs. Anderson, get her consent to play, and
I'll prove my executive ability by doing all the rest."

"But, good gracious! how could the woman memorize a part between this
and night?"

"Give her a short part--any old part. Two or three lines will do. What
she wants is a chance to show herself on the professional stage."

"There is a small part," hesitated Mr. Wattles, "one that she could
learn in half an hour. But, no, it won't do. The woman might queer the
performance, and I should be the laughingstock of the profession for the
next year."

"She's not as bad as all that," said Al. "She has appeared in amateur
performances here and made a success. Better see her, Mr. Wattles. I
know she'll be tickled to death with the idea. You'll be in plenty of
time to get a big ad. in this afternoon's _Herald_, and you'll have the
biggest house of the season."

The manager brought his fist down on the table by his side, and said:

"By jingo, boy, I will do it! Lots of money has been made out of
stage-struck society women, and perhaps I may come in for a little of
it."

"You'll come in for a lot of it to-night, sir, if you just follow my
advice. And now I'll show you the way to the mayor's house."

"Wait a minute. You said this amateur racket was only a part of your
scheme; what is the rest of it?"

"Souvenirs. This town is wild on souvenirs. The 'Crack of Doom' Company
give hand-painted fans to-night. Why don't you go one better, and
announce that every lady attending your performance will receive a
heavily plated silver souvenir spoon?"

"But where the mischief could I get the spoons?"

"I'll provide them."

"You?"

"Certainly."

"But where are you going to get them?"

"I've got them. You see, sir, I am a sort of speculator. I attend
auction sales and that sort of thing, and if I see a big bargain I take
advantage of it. It's better than clerking at five dollars a week. A few
days ago I struck a bankrupt sale in New York, and bought a lot of
plated spoons at 'way below cost. I meant to sell them to the stores
here, but I'll let you have them at just what they cost me--you can
afford to give them away if you buy them at that price--and there will
be plenty to go round."

Mr. Wattles surveyed his companion in amused wonder.

"Well, you are a queer sort of lad," he said. "You seem to have a pretty
old head on those young shoulders of yours!"

"I think I have enough to look out for number one, sir."

"I should say you did. I should like to know more of you."

"You will, sir, when I become your advance agent."

"Well, we'll see all about that. And now I'd better be off for the home
of the stage-struck mayoress. Meet me in half an hour."

"I'll be here, sir."

As the manager walked away, he muttered:

"I'm afraid I'm going on a fool's errand. Confound it! I believe that
young rascal has hypnotized me. But, after all, I can't afford to
neglect the chance. The treasury is pretty low, and if this scheme
doesn't work there may be trouble on salary day. I'll do my best to get
this woman to play, and I guess I shall succeed; people used to say that
Gus Wattles was the champion jollier, and I don't think he has lost his
powers yet."

Al was doing a little soliloquizing, too.

"I didn't think I had so much nerve," he mused. "I'm beginning to have a
little more confidence in myself. If to-night's performance is a success
I shall get the job sure--he can't refuse me. But if it isn't a
success, if Mrs. Anderson refuses to have anything to do with the
scheme--I won't let myself think of that."

It was nearly an hour before Mr. Wattles returned.

"Well, sir?" questioned the boy, breathlessly.

"It's all right."

"She will play?"

"Not only that, but she is going to pay me for the chance. Oh, there are
no flies on Augustus Wattles, my boy! Yes, she is going to play, and she
is delighted because the part will give her a chance to exhibit herself
in a new costume which she has just imported from Paris. Now, then, my
lad, we must get up the ads. How much time have we before they must be
in the newspaper office?"

"An hour at least. And you had better get out some posters announcing
Mrs. Anderson's appearance. They can be on the walls in two hours. Will
you leave that part to me?"

"Yes; but first you can help me with the advertisement. Undoubtedly you
can give me some points."

Al was able to do so. The manager was