For while, as has been said above, Hawley’s snapshots appealed to the sense of humor of many, and were provocative of chuckles, there were as many more who saw the serious side of the situation, and were stirred to righteous wrath by the shameful conditions which the Bulletin had revealed to them.
These good people were in the habit of going to bed early, and therefore never would have discovered that the city was not being properly and faithfully policed at night if Carroll’s newspaper had not opened their eyes.
A delegation of taxpayers, thirty strong, called at the city hall that morning, and demanded an audience with the mayor.
Each of them had a copy of the current issue of the Bulletin in his hand, and each of them had fire in his eye. When they were ushered into the mayor’s private office they proceeded to deliver themselves of utterances so forceful and to the point that his honor squirmed in his chair as he listened.
As soon as they had gone, Mayor Henkel reached for the telephone on his desk, and called up police headquarters.
“Is that you, Hodgins?” he growled into the transmitter.
“Yes, Mr. Mayor.” Chief Hodgins’ voice was very meek, and a trifle unsteady. He, too, had seen the Bulletin that morning.
“Come on over here at once!” snarled his honor. “I want to see you.”
The chief lost no time in getting over to the city hall. Not that he was intensely eager for this interview, but he gathered the impression from the tone of the mayor’s voice over the wire that its owner was more than a trifle peevish, and he knew better than to keep him waiting when he was in such a mood.
“I suppose you’ve seen the Bulletin?” snapped the mayor, as Hodgins stepped into the room.