Frank had been pretty quiet since they had last seen the vacant store, leaving Randy and Pep to do the chattering. They knew their business chum had been doing some close calculating and they eagerly awaited his first word. “Tell you, fellows,” finally spoke their leader in an offhand but serious way, “I’ve turned and twisted about all the many corners to this big proposition before us, and it’s no trivial responsibility for amateurs like us.” “We made good at Fairlands; didn’t we?” challenged Pep. “That is true,” admitted Frank, “but remember our investment there wasn’t heavy; we didn’t have to go into debt, expenses were light, we were right among friends who wanted to encourage us, and we had free board at home.” “That’s so,” murmured Randy, with a long-drawn sigh. “If we start in here at Seaside Park,” went on Frank, “we have got to fix up right up to date or we’ll find ourselves nowhere in a very little while. There’s electric fans, expensive advertising, a big license fee, more help and the films--that’s the feature that worries me. As we learned this morning, we have got to have the latest and best in that direction.” “But twelve shows a day, Frank,” urged Pep. “Think of it--twelve!” “Yes, I know,” responded Frank. “It looks very easy until some break comes along. I wouldn’t like to pile up a lot of expenses, and then have to flunk and lose not only the little capital we have but the outfit we’ve worked so hard to get. Truth is, fellows, any way I figure it out, we’re short of the ready funds to carry this thing through.” Randy and Pep looked pretty blank at this. It was a decidedly wet blanket on all their high hopes. “Couldn’t we get a partner who would finance us?” finally suggested Randy. “Why, say, give me that chance!” spoke an eager voice that brought the three chums to their feet. CHAPTER IV AN OLD FRIEND It had grown nearly dusk while the three chums sat at the window of their room animatedly discussing their prospects. None of them had thought of lighting the gas and the night shadows that had crept into the room prevented them from recognizing the intruder whom they now faced. They had left the door of the room leading into the corridor wide open to allow a free current of air. The doorway framed a dim figure who now advanced into the room as Frank challenged sharply: “Who’s that?” “Why, it’s me--Peter,” came the cool reply. “Don’t you remember?” Peter--Peter Carrington--stalked closer to the window with the superb effrontery that was a natural part of his make-up. He ducked his head and grinned at the chums in the most familiar manner in the world. There was a spare chair nearby. Peter moved it near to the others and sat down as if he owned it. “Feels good to rest,” he enlightened his grim and astonished hosts. “Had a message for you, and the hotel clerk directed me to your room. Say, you must fancy climbing four flights of stairs!”