“Yes. Meantime, to be safe, I’ll look after the reviewing stand tickets myself.”
At the hour named, the editor arrived. Average Jones was already there, accompanied by a messenger boy. The boy wore the cheerful grin of one who has met with an unexpected favor of fortune.
“They’ve returned, both of ’em,” said Average Jones as Waldemar approached. “What about the governor?”
“It took a mighty lot of persuasion, but he’ll do it,” replied the editor.
“Skip, son,” said the Ad-Visor, handing the messenger boy a folded newspaper. “The two gentlemen on the third floor rear. And be sure you say that it’s a personal, marked copy.”
The boy crossed the street and entered the house. In two minutes he emerged, nodded to Average Jones and walked away. Five minutes passed. Then the front door opened cautiously and a tall, evil-looking man slunk into the vestibule. A second man followed him. They glanced eagerly from left to right. Average Jones stepped out to the curb-stone.
“Here’s the message from Karboe,” he called.
“My God!” gasped the tall man.
For an instant he made as if to turn back. Then, clearing the steps at one jump, he stumbled, sprawled, was up again instantly and speeding up the street, away from Average Jones, turned the corner neck and neck with his companion who, running powerfully, had overtaken him.
The door of the house stood ajar. Before Waldemar had recovered from his surprise, Average Jones was inside the house. Hesitation beset the editor. Should he follow or wait? He paused, one foot on the step. A loud crash within resolved his doubts. Up he started, when the voice of Average Jones in colloquy with the woman who had received them before, checked him. The colloquy seemed excited but peaceful. Presently Average Jones came down the steps.