“In the Ledger’s case it was a matter of news value rather than policy,” explained Flash. “I didn’t get the pictures into the editor’s hands quickly enough.”
“Oh, I see. Well, I’m just as glad the pictures didn’t appear. I don’t especially care about being made the target of another attack.”
Flash took the list of names. When he was outside the building, he studied the addresses. Many of the places were close at hand. He decided to make a few calls during the hour which remained before most business houses would lock their doors.
His first stop was at the Globe Chain Store, but the manager, a blunt speaking man, flatly denied he ever had heard or had dealings with any representative of the North Brandale Insurance Company. Two additional calls were equally unsuccessful. Although the store owners disclosed by their manner that the company was unpleasantly familiar to them, they had nothing to say.
With time remaining for only one more visit, Flash dropped in at the offices of the Fenmore Warehouse. A stenographer was in the act of covering her typewriter as he entered the reception room.
“Am I too late to see Mr. Fenmore for a moment?” Flash inquired.
“Mr. Fenmore is still in his office,” the girl replied. “But it is closing time. I’m not certain he will see you.”
At that moment, a stout bald-headed man came out of the inner office, hat in hand. He glanced inquiringly at Flash.
“You wished to see me?”
“Yes, I did. I’m Jimmy Evans from the Ledger.”