But the blaze, big as it was, finally yielded to the work of the firemen, and at length all the persons had been gotten out of the apartment.
“I guess we’ve got enough,” said Blake, finally. “Now we’ll hustle this to the laboratory, Joe, have it developed, and see what use we can make of it. I’ll get some of the weeklies on the ’phone, and see how many prints they want.”
Blake and Joe, as those of you know who have read the other books of this series, had their own establishment in New York, where they developed and printed their films.
What Blake meant by “weeklies” was a certain feature much used in moving picture houses. Important current events of the week, big accidents, volcanic eruptions, war scenes—in fact, anything in which the public is interested—are registered on the sensitive celluloid, and sent around to the theaters which take the service of the weekly film. It is, in brief, a moving picture newspaper, and our two heroes had made considerable money in the past in supplying films for this purpose.
A little later the film of the fire was being developed, ready for printing, and Blake had secured, over the telephone, a number of orders. These were turned over to their assistants, for the two youths could not do all the work themselves, and had a number of employees.
“Well, now that’s done,” said Joe, with a sigh of satisfaction. “We’d better be getting down to see Mr. Ringold, I guess.”
“Yes,” agreed Blake, looking at his watch. “And I want something to eat, too. It’s past ten o’clock, and we haven’t had supper yet.”
“That’s right!” cried Joe. “I forgot all about it.”
“My stomach didn’t,” laughed Blake.
An hour later, after a hasty meal, they reached the office of Mr. Ringold, whom they found talking to Mr. Piper.