“I’ll try to keep my eye on her,” Mrs. Evans promised, smiling. Mrs. Evans was a slender, gray-haired woman with kindly blue eyes and a pleasant disposition.
“Oh, go on!” said Joan, tossing her head. “Who wants to see your silly old pictures, anyway?”
Jimmy had taken over a large closet adjoining the bathroom for his photographic laboratory. In addition to a ruby and green lamp, developer and hypo trays, he had equipped it with a film drying machine and had built shelves to hold his chemicals, printing papers and general supplies.
He mixed fresh developer. Then, closing himself in the darkroom, he ran his films through the tray. The two pictures came up quickly. As he studied them beneath the red glow he was elated to see that they both would make good, clear prints. The license number of the black sedan showed plainly, as did the face of the heavy-set driver.
Jimmy had taken the films from the fixing solution and was washing them when Joan rattled the door knob.
“Oh, Jim! Are you about finished?”
“Listen, little half-pint, if you come in here now—”
“Who wants to come in?” she called in a longsuffering voice. “But you’d better hurry! A policeman is downstairs waiting to see you, and he says it’s important!”
CHAPTER II
A NEWS BREAK
Jimmy scarcely knew whether or not to take his sister seriously, but he quickly finished his work and stepped out of the darkroom. Gazing from the window at the end of the hall he saw a police cruising car parked by the curb.