"That's interesting!"
"I'd never have had the nerve to face you if it wasn't."
A boy appeared through the door. The editor swung back to his desk.
"Show this gentleman the way downstairs," he said, without anger, without resentment, without interest.
Trotter stood up and stared at him. "You mean you're not going to take this beat when I've got it right here to hand out to you?" he cried in his startled and high-pitched voice. "You're not going to give me my chance?"
"What chance? What beat are you talking about?"
"A beat that involves the theft of millions of dollars!"
"And what's going to happen to your millions of dollars?"
Trotter sat down in the chair again. "It's going to be stolen, every cent of it."
The man at the desk smiled. It was a very faint and mirthless smile. "You said that before, I think. But who's taking it?"