“Oh, give me all the hell you want to!” he cried out. “Only don’t ask me to listen to you!”
He paused abruptly before her, and, eyes half-closed, stared piercingly into her face. As she returned his stare, it began to dawn upon her that he did not seem much taken aback. At least his guilt bore no near likeness to that of Mr. Blake.
Suddenly he made a lunge for the door, jerked it open, and his voice descended the stairway, out-thundering the press.
“Jake! Oh, Jake!”
A lesser roar ascended:
“Yes!”
“Stop the press! Rip open the forms! Get the men at the linotypes! And be alive down there, every damned soul of you! And you, Billy Harper, I’ll want you here in two minutes!”
He slammed the door, and turned on Katherine. She had looked upon excitement before, but never such excitement as was flaming in his face.
“Now give me all the details!” he cried.