“And I suppose you just happened to be out there,” he said. “You’re a fool for luck if ever I saw one!”
Flash tapped his holders. “Wait until you see what I have here,” he boasted. “The best pictures of my career—I hope! I’m putting ’em through the soup now.”
He ran on up the stairway.
Had his little act gone over? Flash could not be sure. If Fred Orris doubted the story he could prove it false in three minutes. But both he and Old Herm had seemed impressed.
Unlocking the photography department, Flash closed the door behind him but did not snap on the overhead lights. He entered the darkroom and turned on the green lantern by the developing tank. A glance satisfied him that the camera trap had not been disturbed. Everything was in readiness.
Slipping outside again, he carefully closed the door. Then he tiptoed across the darkened main room.
Hiding himself behind the power cabinets of the wirephoto machine, he waited.
CHAPTER XXIII
ACCUSATIONS
The minutes passed slowly. Flash had begun to think that his scheme had failed when he heard a step outside the door. Instantly he became alert.
Fred Orris entered the room. He crossed to his desk and, snapping on a small lamp, rummaged in a drawer for some object which he had left there. He sat for several minutes smoking a cigarette. Finally he switched off the light, and crossed toward the darkroom.