Old Herm cringed back against the wall, and every trace of bravado left him.
“Has Jeff been talkin’ to you?” he faltered.
“You’ve been paying him money to ring the different bells for you,” Flash accused. “It came in very convenient when you wanted to run down to your room for an hour off. And it provided you with a perfect alibi the night my fire picture was stolen.”
“Wait until I lay hands on that boy,” Old Herm muttered. “The no-good sneak! Carryin’ tales behind my back!”
“Herm, what did you do with the film?”
“I ain’t a-sayin’ nothing from now on.”
“I’ll call the wagon,” said Fred Orris impatiently.
As the head photographer started for a desk telephone, the old man collapsed into a chair.
“Don’t call the police,” he pleaded. “I’ll tell you everything. Sure, I did it, and I ain’t sorry, either!”
“Why did you do it, Herm?”