“It’s a ticklish story to print. The fire chief won’t give out any definite information and neither will the owners of the Elston Apartments. But it looks to me as if these pictures I’ve just taken may have some significance. At least, I’ll wave ’em under the editor’s nose and see what he says!”
“I’ll be watching for them in tomorrow’s paper,” Jerry promised, moving to the curb to board a bus. “So long.”
Flash walked swiftly to the Ledger building. Lights were burning on various floors, but nearly all of the offices were deserted. It lacked twenty minutes of midnight before the men who worked the “lobster” trick would come on duty.
In the hallway Flash met Old Herm, who seemed surprised to see him at such a late hour.
“Want I should let you into the office?” he asked.
Flash shook his head. “No, thanks, Herm. I have a key now.”
The photography department was deserted. Closing himself in the darkroom, Flash worked swiftly and with precision. In five minutes time the films had been put through the tanks. He washed them carefully and placed them on the heated ferrotype machine to dry.
When the prints were finished, he slipped them into an envelope, wrote a note of explanation to accompany them, and dropped the packet on the city editor’s vacant desk.
As Flash went out the front door, he met Fred Orris and an attractive young woman, obviously his wife, entering the building. Apparently they had attended the theatre, for Mrs. Orris still carried a program. He tipped his hat politely and went on, well aware that the photographer gave him a curious, unfriendly stare.
“Suppose Orris wonders what I am doing here at this hour?” he thought. “Oh, well, he’ll find out tomorrow!”