“Joe sent you?” he repeated. “Do you know anything about newsreel work?”
“Not very much,” Flash admitted truthfully. “I’m a photographer for the Brandale Ledger. I can do what you tell me.”
“A lot of help you’ll be,” Doyle growled. “I need a good, experienced man.”
Flash began to lose patience. It seemed to him that Doyle had no interest in Joe Wells’ misfortune save as it affected him. His only thought was for himself and his work.
“If you don’t care to use me, that’s quite all right,” he said. “I have some pictures of my own to take.”
As he turned abruptly toward the door, Doyle stopped him.
“Wait a minute! Don’t be so touchy! I didn’t say I couldn’t use you, did I? If I decide to tackle the job I’ll need a helper. You may do.”
“Thanks,” said Flash ironically.
He had taken an intense dislike to Doyle. The man was conceited and disagreeable. But for Joe’s sake he would see the thing through.
“Had your breakfast yet?” Doyle asked in a more friendly tone.