He entered the building, took the elevator to his floor and walked into the city room. The clatter of typewriters met his ears and the sound was sweet to him in that moment.
He crossed swiftly to his desk and sat dawn. Then he motioned to a copy boy. The boy came up to his desk.
"Jerry, tell the chief to hold up the form on page one. I've got a special—an accident out at the Proving Grounds. Headline copy."
The youth hurried away toward the office of the City Editor, and Fred picked up his phone and dialed a number. He waited a moment and then the voice of Joan Drake came across the wire.
"Dr. Fenwick's office."
"Joan, this is Fred."
The girl's voice laughed across the wire. "Don't tell me you're planning to break our date? Just when I get all dressed up."
A smile crossed Trent's lips. "You're almost psychic, honey. Fact is, I was calling to tell you I'll be a little late."
There was a pause and when the girl spoke again there was an injured note in her voice.
"Well, that's a fine thing. I wait here deliberately after hours for you to pick me up and now you tell me you'll be late! Just what's so more important than me right now?"