Returning to the warehouse, Flash resumed his search for the missing camera although he had scant hope of finding it. He struck a match. By its flare he saw the battered case lying against a wall on the opposite side of the alley. It surprised him that he had been able to hurl it so far.
He snatched up the camera. The film holder was still there, and seemingly in good condition.
“Boy! I hope I’ve got something!” he purred to himself.
Tucking the camera under his arm, he hastened back to the basement.
“I phoned headquarters,” he told the policeman. “The wagon will be here in a minute or two.”
“Good! I see you found your camera.”
“It doesn’t look to be very much damaged. And the plate holder is okay!”
“That’s fine,” said the policeman. “If you snapped those two missing fellows we ought to run them in without much trouble. You ride along to headquarters with me.”
“But I took the picture for my newspaper,” Flash protested. “After all, I’m working for the Ledger, not the city.”
“So what?”