“Sure! Always have it.”
“You’ll be able to get some pictures, I think. They always help. Shall we be off?”
“Right now,” Jimmie sprang to his feet. They were away.
The suite of offices they entered a few moments later were quite modern. Clicking typewriters, mahogany desks, and the latest floodlights told plainly that at least one moving-picture organization was doing very well. They were in the central office of a large syndicate controlling many theaters.
“Are you from the Detective Bureau?” inquired a short, fat man with pudgy fingers.
Tom nodded.
“They took it all! Everything!” The man wrung his fat hands.
“Where’s the safe?” Tom demanded shortly.
“It is in the back. Come this way, please. The police have been here. Everything has been guarded. Nothing was touched.” The man led the way back.
“Hello, Tom,” the police officer on duty greeted.