In an incredibly short time the finished prints were laid on Riley’s desk. He ran through them with a critical eye, throwing out those which he considered without merit. The others he marked for page one.
“Evans—” the editor’s voice held a note of respect. “You’ve rung the bell. We’ll give you twenty dollars for the lot.”
Jimmy smiled, and shook his head.
“Thirty, then. They’re good pictures. I won’t quibble.”
Jimmy reached for the prints.
“Say, what do you want?” Riley asked with biting sarcasm. “The Ledger building?”
“Only a little niche in it. A job.”
Riley’s face flushed an angry pink and the veins stood out on his forehead. Then, unexpectedly, he relaxed and laughed.
“You have your nerve, Evans! Holding me up like this.”
“I’m only following your advice,” grinned Jimmy. “Trying to use my head.”