“How about it, Mr. Parker?” inquired Jerry eagerly. “Are we putting out an extra?”
“We are,” said the publisher crisply. “This is the big break I’ve been hoping we would get! We should beat the Record on the story by at least a half hour.”
The three men hurriedly left the Celestial Temple, with Penny trailing behind them. At the main street intersection they finally obtained a taxicab.
“To the Star office,” Mr. Parker ordered. “An extra dollar if you step on it.”
“How about my pictures?” Salt Sommers asked, as the cab rocked around a corner. “They ought to be dandies.”
“Rush them through as soon as we get to the office,” Mr. Parker instructed. “If they’re any good we’ll run ’em on page one. Jerry, you handle the story—play it for all it’s worth.”
Jerry glanced at Penny who sat very still between her father and Salt. Their eyes met.
“Chief,” he said, “there’s a sort of fraternity among reporters—an unwritten rule that we never chisel on each other’s work.”
“What’s that?” Mr. Parker asked, startled. “I don’t get it.”
Then his glance fell upon his daughter, and he smiled.