“I wish,” said the boy, in his quiet, firm way, yet with much deference in his manner and tone, “that you young ladies would consider my offer seriously, and take proper time to reach a decision.  I am absolutely in earnest.  I want to join you in your attempt to give pleasure to children, and I am willing and—­and able—­to furnish the funds required.  Without your cooperation, however, I could do nothing, and my health is such that I wish to leave the management of the theatres entirely in your hands, as well as all the details of their construction.”

“We will consider it, of course, Mr. Jones,” answered Beth gravely.  “We are a little startled just now, as you see; but when we grow accustomed to the immensity of the scheme—­our baby, which you have transformed into a giant—­we shall be able to consider it calmly and critically, and decide if we are competent to undertake the management of so many theatres.”

“Thank you.  Then, I think, I will excuse myself for this evening and return to my room.  I’m improving famously, under Dr. Doyle’s instructions, but am not yet a rugged example of health.”

Patsy took his hand at parting, as did the others, but her attention was divided between Ajo and the strange man who had never for a moment ceased watching him.  Not once did the dark eyes waver, but followed each motion of the boy as he sauntered to the desk, got his key from the clerk, and then proceeded to his room, turning up one of the corridors on the main floor.

The stranger now laid his newspaper on the table and disclosed his entire face for the first time.  A middle-aged man, he seemed to be, with iron-gray hair and a smoothly shaven, rather handsome face.  From his dress he appeared to be a prosperous business man and it was evident that he was a guest of the hotel, for he wandered through the lobby—­in which many other guests were grouped, some chatting and others playing “bridge”—­and presently disappeared down the corridor traversed by young Jones.

Patsy drew a deep breath, but said nothing to the others, who, when relieved of the boy’s presence, began to discuss volubly his singular proposal.

“The fellow is crazy,” commented Arthur.  “Twenty picture theatres, with a film factory to supply them, is a big order even for a multi-millionaire—­and I can’t imagine this boy coming under that head.”

“He seemed in earnest,” said Maud, musingly.  “What do you think, Aunt Jane?”

“I am greatly perplexed,” admitted Mrs. Montrose.  “Had I not known of the conquest of Goldstein by this boy, who issued orders which the manager of the Continental meekly obeyed, I would have laughed at his proposition.  As it is, I’m afraid to state that he won’t carry out his plan to the letter of the agreement.”

“Would it not be a rash investment, ma’am?” inquired Uncle John.

“Frankly, I do not know.  While all the film makers evade any attempt to discover how prosperous—­financially—­they are, we know that without exception they have grown very wealthy.  I am wondering if this young Jones is not one of the owners of the Continental—­a large stockholder, perhaps.  If so, that not only accounts for his influence with Goldstein, but it proves him able to finance this remarkable enterprise.  He doubtless knows what he is undertaking, for his figures, while not accurate, were logical.”