Flash nodded. “A lucky break for me,” he said. “Tell you about it later.”
As he closed himself into the darkroom he heard the older man mutter: “That’s your middle name—Luck!”
The fresh hypo bath which Orris had just finished mixing was strong and offensive. Flash placed his films in the tank, set the timer, and then kept the negatives agitated during the developing process. The excitement of the past hour had buoyed him up. But now as he waited, he suddenly felt sapped of all energy. A fear that his pictures might turn out worthless, took possession of him.
“One more mistake and I’ll be finished,” he thought.
When the alarm went off, he quickly removed the negatives from the developer. He drew a deep sigh of relief. Of the seven pictures he had taken, six had come up clear-cut and definite with white and black contrasting sharply. One was indistinct, but would be printable with special treatment.
Flash chuckled. Unless he greatly over-estimated the pictures, they were the best of his career. Why, he might even win a by-line for himself! He could visualize the caption—“Photographs by Jimmy Evans.” Only a simple line which few newspaper readers would notice. But to a photographer it meant everything.
Flash returned the films to the water, and opened the door of the darkroom. Orris was still outside, talking with Joe Wells who had wandered into the department on his way home from a movie.
“Hi, there, Flash,” he called with a friendly smile. “I hear you’ve covered yourself with glory. How did they come out?”
“Pretty fair,” returned Flash. “Want to look at them?”
Wells and Orris both followed him back into the darkroom. They studied the negatives with the critical gaze of experts, searching for defects and finding none.