A nurse entered the room to take a temperature reading. After she had gone, Joe turned to Doyle:
“Do me a favor, will you? Run over to the drug-store and buy me some tooth paste.”
Doyle left on the errand. As soon as his footsteps had died away, Joe motioned for Flash to draw his chair closer.
“Now we can talk,” he said comfortably. “What’s the real reason you don’t want my job? Doyle?”
“His attitude figures. He doesn’t like me. Working with him would be unpleasant.”
“You’ll get used to his grouching and boasting after awhile. I did. Why not give it a little whirl—while you’re on your vacation anyhow? It’s not easy, getting a chance to break into the newsreel game, and here it drops right into your lap. If you don’t like it, you can go back to the Ledger and no harm done. And another thing, the pay is much better.”
As Flash remained thoughtfully silent, Joe added: “If your pictures turn out well, Clewes may offer you the job on his own initiative. Don’t let Doyle’s personality stand in your way.”
“I’ll think it over. By the way, how is the Major?”
Joe jerked his head toward the wall behind the bed.
“They have him in the next cell,” he revealed in a low voice. “I’m telling you that old goof nearly drives me crazy.”