“They will when they read in to-morrow’s Chronicle why it was that you were asleep at your desk,” replied the editor, with a sly smile. “We’ll explain that our worthy chief of police, after being up all night for three successive nights in the pursuit of his official duties, was so tired out that he was unable to keep up any longer. Tired nature asserted itself, and he fell back in his chair in a state of collapse. And while he was in this condition—brought about solely by his devotion to duty and zeal to serve the public—the miscreant photographer of the Bulletin sneaked in and made capital of the incident.
“I rather think that will do the trick, chief,” the elder Gale remarked. “When they read the Chronicle to-morrow morning, the people of Oldham, instead of smiling at those pictures, will look upon you as a martyr.”
Chief Hodgins’ face lighted up. “The very thing!” he exclaimed enthusiastically. “It looks to me as if you’d hit the right idea, Mr. Gale, and I don’t mind telling you that if you print all that you’ll come pretty near telling the truth, too.”
“Have you caught the fellow who took the pictures yet, chief?” the editor inquired.
“No; the rascal got away,” Hodgins answered, with a scowl. “My men learned that he got out of town on a motor cycle, but they can’t find out where he’s gone. I guess he won’t dare set foot in this town again. He was certainly the nerviest camera fiend I’ve seen or heard of.”
The younger Gale pricked up his ears at these words. “Don’t happen to know his name, do you, chief?” he inquired, with great interest.
“Yes, I do, too,” Hodgins replied. “One of my detectives managed to find out that much from one of the printers who works for the Bulletin. The fellow’s name is Hawley, and he works for a New York newspaper.”
“I thought as much,” exclaimed young Gale, with a[Pg 50] frown. “I heard on Park Row the other day that Hawley, of the Sentinel, was taking a vacation up in the Catskills. Too bad you didn’t catch him, chief, and send him to jail. I’ve no use for that fellow.”
“I’ll send him to jail, all right, if I ever manage to lay hands on him,” declared the policeman, a glint in his eyes.
“But can you?” the elder Gale queried. “Could you send him to jail, I mean, for taking those snapshots, even if you were to catch him? After all, my dear chief, he has violated no law. I was looking up the penal code a little while ago, and I find there is no statute which covers his case. I am afraid you couldn’t do anything to him—in a legal way.”