Jimmy provided the best description he could and was surprised that his mind as well as his camera had photographed so many details.
“Sounds like Legs, all right,” the policeman nodded. “The fellow with him may be Al Morgan—he’s wanted for shooting his way out of a bank down state.”
The films were partly dry by the time Sergeant Bedlow tramped back upstairs after making his telephone call.
“We have orders to proceed to Morewell Avenue right away,” he reported. “We’ll pick up those films later on.”
“You can take them now if you’re careful not to let them touch anything,” Jimmy replied quickly. “Want me to go along and handle them for you?”
“The boy figures on selling his pictures to the Ledger,” explained the other policeman. “I told him he could ride along with us and get some extra prints at headquarters.”
“Sure. Let’s go.”
Jimmy followed the two men from the house, not forgetting to tuck his miniature camera into his coat pocket.
“Jump in,” invited Sergeant Bedlow.
Jimmy climbed into the rear seat of the big sedan. He pinned the damp films to a chromium crossbar so that they would swing free.