Interviewing the latest sensation of the film capital was little more than routine and Tim found that the girl had little that she could or would say. The photographer got several snaps and they returned uptown where Tim managed, by hard work, to grind out half a column on the visit of June O’Malley to the airport.
“This is poor stuff and I’m making no apologies,” he said as he laid the sheet and a half of copy on the copydesk. “She didn’t have anything to say and I don’t believe she could have said it if she had.”
“They’re usually pretty poor copy,” nodded Dan, “but you should kick on a few assignments like this after your thrilling flight of yesterday.”
“I guess you’re right at that,” nodded Tim.
“I know what’s the matter,” said Dan. “You can’t get thoughts of ‘Mr. Seven’ out of your head.”
“You’d better have a sign painted and start in the mind reading business,” grinned Tim.
“It didn’t take a mind reader to figure that one out.” Dan dialed the automatic telephone. “Ransom House? This is the News. Has ‘Mr. Seven’ returned?”
“Not back yet,” said Dan as he hung up the receiver. “Let’s go out to lunch?”
Tim agreed and they had their noonday meal at a nearby restaurant.
“How far are the garages where ‘Mr. Seven’ might have rented a car?” asked Dan.