McGinity grinned. "Reporting isn't wonderland, by any means," he said; "it's the land of stark realities. I've had doors slammed in my face; I've been snubbed, insulted, double-crossed and kicked downstairs; but never—no, never in all my short experience as a reporter for a sensational tabloid sheet like the Recorder, have I ever had an experience like this one, tonight!"
"I'm sorry Uncle Henry was so ungracious and unkind," said Pat, in a low, sympathetic voice; "and Niki so cruel. I'm sure the valet didn't mean to knock you out."
McGinity grinned. "Oh, but I don't mean what you think I mean," he said. He leaned over the table towards her. "I mean this experience—you—at this moment. You—this incredulous you! A beautiful young princess, in these dark, ancient surroundings, and only forty-nine minutes from Broadway. An angel of mercy, too. It's all too fine and lovely to be true. I must be in a dream." He swept his hand across his eyes. "Maybe I haven't come to my senses yet—maybe—"
He stopped short as the telephone bell in the library began to trill sharply. He glanced at his watch. Two o'clock. Only half an hour before the last edition of his paper went to press. Time enough to get his story in, if only a flash. The old instinct—news instinct—loyalty to his paper, suddenly gripped him; it blotted out everything else—even Pat. He must get his story in. No longer would there be any interference with his plans. All danger—all obstacles—were past, and he was free at last to act.
He jumped to his feet, and with a bound, passed through the open doorway into the darkened library. The trilling of the bell guided him to the desk in the center of the room.
Pat sat staring after him. Then, suddenly, she understood his object. Instantly, she too sprang from the table, and darted into the library after him. A touch of the switch, and the room was flooded with light. McGinity was standing by the desk, in the act of lifting the receiver from the hook.
"I'm afraid you're forgetting yourself," Pat said coldly. "You agreed to follow out my instructions."
McGinity glanced at her strangely. "It's all okay. Everything's all right," he said, in an excited and husky whisper.
"Don't be absurd," said Pat. "Everything is not—all right. You're going to phone your story in, and you promised you wouldn't. Gentlemen always keep promises."
"I'm a reporter, and this is my business," McGinity retorted. "I've got to get this story in, and nobody's going to stop me."