"No. Guess I'd better put that in the cubbyhole. He's dead."
"No will found yet?"
"Not a piece as big as a postage stamp."
"That will leave the girl in a tough place. No will, no birth certificate; and, worst of all, no photograph of the old man himself. I don't see why Jim sidestepped this affair. He is the only man in town who knew anything about Hargreave."
"He hasn't given it up; but he wants to cover it on his own, turn the yarn over when he's got it, no false alarms."
"Ah! So that's the game?"
"Yes; and Jim is the sort every paper needs. When the time comes the story turns up, if there is one. Here he is now. Looks like an actor in the fourth act of a drama. Good-looking chap, though."
Norton came in through the outer gates. He was in evening clothes, top hat. A dead cigarette dangled between his lips.
"How much do you want?" asked the night city editor.
"Column and a half."