She intended, too, to demand that they return the stolen negatives to the Bulletin; but she had no hope that her demand would be complied with.
However, she did not carry out these intentions; for, as she approached the door of her uncle’s private office, her ears caught a fragment of conversation which suggested to her a much better plan.
“I wonder who those fellows are?” the elder Gale was saying. “Their faces are not at all recognizable in the negatives. Just for curiosity’s sake, I think it would be worth while to have a print made of each of them.”
“Yes,” his son assented. “I must confess that I, too, am curious to see what they look like. Give me the films, governor, and I’ll go upstairs to the photo-engraving room, and have Michaels make some prints.”
It was these words, which came to her through the partially closed door, which gave Melba her daring idea.
Treading as noiselessly as possible, she hurriedly descended the short flight of stairs which led to the street, just in time to avoid being seen by her cousin, who came out of the private office, and went upstairs to the photo-engraving plant.
“Here, Michaels,” the latter said to the Chronicle’s photo-engraver, “I want prints of these negatives just as quick as you can make them. They’re not to be made into cuts. We want merely the prints.”
The younger Gale did not wait upstairs in the photo-engraving room while the prints were being made. For[Pg 50] failing to do so he afterward reproached himself bitterly. But not having the slightest suspicion of what was going to happen, he bade Michaels bring the pictures to him as soon as they were done, and went downstairs to rejoin his father.
It was more than an hour later that the latter remarked: “How about those prints, my son? It seems to me it is taking Michaels an awful time to get them out.”
“By Jove, that’s right!” exclaimed the other. “I had forgotten all about them. I’ll go upstairs and see how he’s getting along.”