“Take him out!”
“There’s something behind all his noise,” said Mr. Drury. “Something I don’t like. It’s sure to come out in the end.”
It did come out and that very soon. Oggie pitched a hitless inning. At this the heckler bawled out in a voice that all could hear:
“Take him out! He’s one of the idle rich. A millionaire. A murderer!”
Enough had been said. The guards surrounded the man and bore him away. But before this happened, just as he turned half about to face the guards, Jimmie aimed his camera, glanced at the ground glass, made a quick adjustment and snapped his picture. Why did he do this? He did not know. He was not to regret it, for this picture was to form a link in a long chain that had started the day he had shot the Silent Terror’s.
CHAPTER IX
A FORTUNATE SHOT
Jimmie was tired. The ball game was over. It was evening now and he and his father were on their way home. The events of that day had been exciting enough, but all days come to an end. He leaned back in the seat and closed his eyes. Cameras and silver fox skins, blown safes, speeding trucks, policemen in uniform, a ball game in full swing, and Tom Howe’s piercing eyes passed across his mental vision.
Because, for the moment, he wished to forget all these things, he opened his eyes. When he looked at his father he realized with almost a shock that he too must be tired. Yes, there were tired lines about his mouth and wrinkles around his eyes he had never noticed before.
“Dad,” he said, “why do you work so late?”
“To get my work done.” The wrinkles about his father’s eyes gathered into a smile.