“You’re wanted in connection with the Conway dynamiting,” the officer informed him.
Mr. Cordell snorted with anger. “Of all the ridiculous charges! I know nothing about the affair.”
Out of the door burst Salt Sommers. He was without a hat, but he carried a picture, still wet, in the palm of his hand.
“So you know nothing about the dynamiting,” he mimicked. “Well, gentlemen, take a look at this!”
Mr. Cordell and the policemen gathered about him, studying the photograph. Plainly it showed Webb Nelson fleeing toward a car driven by the Mirror editor.
“What does this prove?” the man blustered. “I admit the car is mine. I was driving past the plant at the time of the explosion. This fellow, Nelson, leaped into my auto and ordered me to drive on.”
“A moment ago you claimed you weren’t even near the Conway Plant,” Penny tripped him. “You knew Webb Nelson very well. Furthermore, you entered the Star offices several times trying to get your hands on this picture!”
“Ridiculous!”
“At least once when you found the stairway door locked, you went in through the skylight,” Penny accused.
“Of all the crazy ideas!” The editor laughed jeeringly. “Imagine me crawling through a skylight!”