Oh God! God! It wasn’t Cub! It wasn’t! A murderer couldn’t kiss you so that your soul ran up and spread out flat under his lips.... A murderer couldn’t look at you so that you said you were sorry, even when you tried not to be.... A murderer’s hair wouldn’t fold into little waves where it spread under the curve at the back of his neck.
But how could you tell a paper that? How could you make a city editor understand ... when you had no proof ... that a man was innocent and framed?
There must be some way! You had to think clearly to see it, and the place to think was upstairs with the whole world spread out below in orderly rows and streets. Just as the sun spread over the city, and strengthened it, so control made it possible.... Two hours! Less than that now....
She clenched her fists tightly and rose with studied steadiness. Necessity cleared the brain. Working in a newspaper office taught that the best ideas came under pressure. She had gone out on enough murder stories to know the person who worked his brain ... could beat anything ... even newspaper reporters and ... police.
By the time Sally reached the door of the vacant suite, the seams of her stockings were straightened and her reddening eyes carefully and painstakingly dry. There was an air of jauntiness about her small figure.
She had a head and was going to use it!
Her violet eyes had changed to the deep purple and iridescent white of orchids. She closed the door and stood against it. Then her irises focused.
A stooped, intent figure was silhouetted between the rows of windows and the long city vistas below. For a second her artistic sense forebade speech.
Like an apple tree, gnarled and buffeted by too much winter, the thin shoulders, flat chest, beak nose, and long hands ribboned with purple veins, strained after the peering eyes which were hidden by a pair of binoculars. The dirty white hair drawn into a tightly furled knot, on the upper front of the head, helped Sally recognize the next-to-the-oldest-employe of The Morning Call. She momentarily forgot Cub Sterling.
“Emma! What are you doing?”