“I have only one which will interest you,” he said to the captain. “It isn’t much good.”
The army man examined the picture carefully and returned it to the stack.
“You are right,” he admitted regretfully. “For our purposes it is valueless.” Methodically, he thumbed through the other prints. “Now here is an excellent one!”
“A snap I took at the races. Too bad the wreck picture didn’t come out the same way. Conditions were against me.”
Bailey Brooks had crossed the room. As Captain Johns dropped the prints carelessly on the table, he picked them up and glanced through the stack.
The army officer turned to leave but Doyle stepped forward, neatly blocking his way.
“Say, Captain,” he began, “Flash and I are with News-Vue, you know. What are the picture possibilities out at Melveredge?”
“There are none, Mr. Doyle.”
“Oh, come now, I know it’s hard to get in there these days, but it can be done with pull. How about giving us a permit?”
“I regret I am not in a position to grant such a favor,” the captain returned stiffly. “Good evening.”