Three minutes later the instrument called him again.
“It’s off,” he announced in a low voice. “We won’t hear from them again.”
At that instant the wireless operator rushed from the adjoining room and the coatless and hatless Bob—already in overalls—sprang onto the Flyer lower gallery.
“They’ve started,” yelled both, almost together.
Ned smiled and held out his hand to the night city editor.
“Until we meet again,” he said.
“Remember me to the king,” was the journalist’s only reply as he shook hands and Ned walked slowly toward the mounting steps. Part way to the car he paused, turned and hurriedly retraced his steps. Mr. Atkinson, watch in hand, was approaching from a group of several hundred employees. Ned lifted his cap to the assembled onlookers and then caught the president by the sleeve.
“I don’t know that we’ll need it,” he said with a laugh, “but I just remembered we haven’t any money. Have you a thousand dollars in the office?”
The two entered the office. At six minutes after two o’clock Alan appeared on the upper gallery, watch in hand and an expression of concern in his face. About the same moment Mr. Atkinson and Ned reappeared, the latter carrying a package of bills.
“Don’t leave without me,” called out Ned, waving his arm to show the money. “I almost forgot; we may have to pay some fines in the big town if we’re arrested.”