“Mr. Henry said if you’d gone home I was to ring you.
“What’s the trouble? Is there a big fire or somethin’?”
“You’d better come. Mr. Henry sounds awful mad.” She hung up.
Jay pushed his chair back and got up. Henry was the editor of the St. Louis Banner. He was a good guy to work for and he didn’t often get mad.
As he walked upstairs to Henry’s office Jay searched his mind to find any reason why he might be called on the mat, but he couldn’t think of a thing. There was that little business about the extra expenses last week, but surely Henry wasn’t going to crib about that. Maybe he was getting sore about the way Jay belted Mendetta in the Rayson trial, but then he’d passed the copy himself.
He shook his head. “Well, well, let’s see what’s bitin’ the old guy.”
He pushed open the frosted−panel door and walked in. Henry, a big fat man in his shirt−sleeves, was pacing up and down his small office. His cigar hung in tatters from his teeth. He looked up and glared at Jay.
“Shut the door!” he barked. “You’ve been a long time coming.”
Jay lounged over to an arm−chair and sat down. He hung his legs over one of the arms and shut his eyes.
“I’m sorry, Chief,” he said; “I came as fast as I could.”