“But what about this fire? I’ve got to stay on this until some of the Leader boys come. Why don’t they hurry?”
“Can I help you?” asked Miss Potter, seeing what was in Larry’s mind.
“Yes, you might,” he said. “I want to stay here, where I can—well, where I can keep my eye on a certain person,” he corrected himself quickly. “And yet I want to get word to the office, asking the boys to hurry here.”
“I can telephone for you,” she offered, and she was just going to do that when a young man rushed up to Larry. He was a fellow reporter.
“I’m sent to relieve you,” he said. “The boss wants you back in the office as soon as you can get there. What’s happened so far?”
Rapidly Larry told the main facts of the fire and explosion, and gave all the helpful points he could to his fellow scribe. By this time several other of the Leader men had arrived on the scene, as well as representatives from other papers.
“I’ll give ’em all I have, and you can take up the story from now on,” suggested Larry to his friends. “I guess some were hurt in that blow-up. Look out for more to follow.”
He hurried off to the nearest telephone, with Miss Potter, and soon had sent in over the wire all the news he had. He also flashed something about having seen Witherby, as if disguising himself for flight. Larry was sure the bank clerk had not observed him, because of the excitement over the explosions.
“If he did see me he may take the alarm, and light out ahead of time,” thought the young reporter. “I’ve got to get busy. Guess I’ll go back to the costumer’s and see what I can learn there before I go to the office.”
First, however, after pledging her to silence, he put Miss Potter on a car to go to her home. She had had enough of the excitement, she said. Then Larry hurried back to the scene of the fire. The drug house was still burning fiercely, and it proved to be one of the worst blazes New York ever had experienced.