“The police won’t be able to help you,” but he spoke with less assurance. “We have a perfect right to try to see this young lady. In fact, as I hinted just now, it will be better for her, and better for Harry Garlett, too, for her just to see us and tell us her side of the story. We each represent a big London paper.—Crawford?” A tall, fair youth stepped forward. “Let me introduce the Live Wire!”
Elsie could not but feel thrilled. This was the first time she had ever seen a newspaper man.
“Now then, Angus—don’t be shy!”
The oldest man of the three, in answer to that remark, moved a little nearer.
“I think it will be to the poor girl’s advantage to see us,” he said gently.
“He’s the Sunbeam—a bad poet in his rare moments of leisure, and, I take it, a fellow countryman of yours, Mrs. Housekeeper!”
There was something boyish about the impudent young fellow, and Elsie unconsciously melted a little. Also she had been impressed by the few words uttered by “Angus.” There might be something in what he said.
“You all go up to the village,” she said suddenly, “and put in an hour at ‘The Pig and Whistle.’ Then you come back here. By then I’ll have told the doctor what you say. Maybe he’ll let Miss Jean see ye.”
The three men consulted together, and then the man who had not yet spoken, he of the Live Wire, came forward.
“Look here,” he began, “if we do that—I admit we’ve no business to come and disturb you so early—can we rely on you that no one will get in before us? I and my friends here came down from London last night, determined to be the first in the field. All we ask is some kind of statement from Miss Bower. She’ll have to give one sooner or later to the press, and we represent three big papers. We don’t want to be let down by some fellow who stayed in bed up to the last minute and had a good breakfast before starting on this job.”