“Same to you.”
They shook hands with a show of cordiality and parted company. Flash was glad to be done with the pretense. He never could like George Doyle and was relieved to escape from him. Doubtlessly, the technician felt the same way about him.
At the corner, beyond Doyle’s view, Flash paused. Opening his handbag, he removed the holders which held all the exposed films still in his possession.
“Wonder why the Major is so anxious to see that picture of himself in the wreck?” he mused. “At the time I snapped it I didn’t think I had anything. Maybe I was wrong.”
Deeply puzzled, he could not guess why the picture had any special significance. Yet he shrewdly reasoned that Major Hartgrove would not bother to obtain the negative save for a very particular reason.
The army man’s assured way of expecting his orders to be obeyed without question annoyed Flash. Obviously, the Major had sought to confuse him by contradicting his first story that he had been struck over the head by an assailant.
“I’ll have the film developed and see what all the shooting is about,” he decided. “Then maybe I’ll deliver it to the Major, and maybe I won’t.”
Walking along Main street, Flash presently came to a small photographic studio. Entering he spoke to the owner, Mr. Dee.
“I have some films here to be developed and printed. How soon may I have them?”
“Tomorrow.”