“Use that stairway over there, Frank,” exclaimed Carroll. “It leads to the pressroom. You’ll find some place to hide in down there. Don’t attempt to leave the building just yet. He may have the place surrounded with his men.”
As Hawley dashed down this private stairway, Carroll rushed toward the door of the editorial room, with the intention of barricading it by dragging a desk in front of it, for there was no lock.
But before he could do this, the portly form of the chief of police was in the doorway.
“Well, sir, what do you wish?” demanded the proprietor of the Bulletin, stepping in front of the police official. “You can’t come in here. Nobody but members of the staff are permitted in this room.”
Carroll had no hope of being able to keep Hodgins out, for he believed that the latter was armed with a warrant. He was merely sparring for time in order to give the Camera Chap a chance to reach the pressroom in the basement.
There was a scowl upon the chief’s face. It went very much against his grain to pay this visit to the office of the newspaper which he so cordially hated; but he had been ordered to find the Camera Chap and bring him to the city hall immediately, and, fearful of the mayor’s wrath if he failed, he thought it best to attend to the matter himself.
“I want that feller Hawley,” he announced brusquely. “Where is he?”
Carroll shrugged his shoulders. “Ask me an easier one. Surely you didn’t expect to find him here? I should think you’d give him credit for more sense than that. Hasn’t he already given you proof that he possesses intelligence?”
The scowl on Hodgins’ face deepened. “Aw, cut it out!” he growled. “You know where he is, all right. I ain’t goin’ to do him any harm. If you’ll produce him, I’ll promise you that I won’t place him under arrest.”
Carroll laughed ironically. “Oh, no; of course not,” he sneered. “You wish merely to shake him by the hand, and compliment him upon the excellence of his snapshots in to-day’s Bulletin. I understand.”