The day by day record of events slipped through Tim’s fingers as he went through the file with new enthusiasm. Six months, then nine months and finally a year of action passed. A clock outside boomed eleven but still there was no clue to “Mr. Seven.” Tim went to the library for a new supply of files and spread them out on his own desk and Ralph’s. His eyes were getting heavy but he kept at the task.
Footsteps sounded on the stairs and he looked up to see the managing editor appear in the doorway.
“What’s up, Tim?” asked Carson.
“Just trailing a story,” replied the flying reporter, “and right now it looks like a mighty slim trail with the scent growing fainter every minute.”
“Let’s hear about it.”
Tim recounted briefly the arrival of “Mr. Seven” and how he had aroused the interest of the flying reporter. Then he told of the arrival of Jack Sladek and linked the two together.
“They’re after something in the Cedar river valley and if I could only get the key to the identity of ‘Mr. Seven’ I might know what to aim at.”
The possibilities of the story caught the managing editor’s vivid imagination.
“I’ll give you a hand,” he said, “you scan the pages on the right; I’ll take the ones on the left. You’ve given me enough description so I ought to be able to recognize your man.”
Editor and reporter sat down and took up the task together. Another half hour slipped by when Tim stopped suddenly. He looked at the page before him with almost unbelieving eyes. There, staring at him from the middle of a large feature, was the likeness of “Mr. Seven.”