Flash could see a flat, bulky package protruding from the photographer’s overcoat pocket. He tried to seize the parcel. Frowein pushed him roughly back against the wall.
“Keep your hands out of my pockets!” he ordered unpleasantly.
The cage of the freight elevator had started to descend slowly from the sixth floor. In another minute Flash knew the elevator man would be there to aid Frowein. He acted instinctively.
His right arm coiled back, then lashed out in a swift, sure arc. At the end of that arc, Flash’s knuckled fist exploded against the photographer’s chin. Thrown off balance, Frowein reeled, and fell backwards, sprawling awkwardly on the stairway.
Before he could get up, Flash leaped on him and jerked the package from his overcoat pocket. One glance convinced him he had made no mistake. The package plainly was marked for the Ledger.
“Hey, get off, will you!” Frowein growled. “Can’t you take a little joke?”
Flash coolly pocketed the package before removing himself from Frowein’s mid-section.
“Your brand of humor doesn’t appeal to me,” he retorted. “And I doubt if it would make such a hit with your editor either!”
“See here,” Frowein protested in quick alarm, “you’re not going to spill this, are you? It was only a joke.”
“A joke which would have cost me my job!”