“Thanks, Joe, but no one ever will be able to get that picture back. The fellow who slugged me must have come here with the deliberate purpose of stealing it!”
“What picture are you talking about?”
Flash related in a halting voice everything which had occurred that evening. The older photographer listened with growing astonishment.
“You’re both the luckiest and unluckiest chap I ever met!” he exclaimed. “To think of losing a picture like that!”
“It wasn’t bad luck,” Flash said shortly.
“What do you call it?”
“Someone has been laying for me ever since I started work at the Ledger!”
“A number of queer things have happened to your pictures,” Wells replied mildly. “It may have been accidental—”
“And do you call this an accident tonight?” Flash demanded.
“No, I’m satisfied you didn’t slug yourself,” Wells responded, unruffled. “But I fail to see that the theft of your picture has anything to do with those other mishaps.”