“Your picture would have been of great value to us,” he told Flash curtly. “Both of the men escaped.”
“How about the man you did capture? Won’t he talk?”
“There was a building watchman who saw one of the men—”
“Andy Simpson,” the officer supplied. “We haven’t been able to locate him yet. What can you tell me about those two fellows?”
“Not very much,” Flash confessed. “I only gained a general impression. The film was a dandy, though. If I had that—”
“Would you be able to identify either of the men from another picture?” the officer cut in.
“I doubt it,” Flash admitted lamely. “I never was very good at noticing details.”
He described the men as best he could and then the policeman said abruptly:
“Let’s have a look at the darkroom where you were attacked.”
Flash opened the door and switched on the lights.
The policeman glanced about with the unhurried gaze of one who neglected no details, and photographed it indelibly in his mind.
“Anyone been in here since you were struck?” he questioned.
“Joe Wells and the night editor. Possibly a few of the reporters.”
The officer stooped and picked up an object lying on the floor. It was a door key.
“Well, it looks like one of the keys from Old Herm’s ring.”
“Let’s have a talk with the fellow,” the officer said. “What can you tell me about him?”
“He’s rather queer, but harmless,” answered Flash. “It couldn’t have been Old Herm who struck me.”
Even as he spoke, the thought assailed him that actually he knew almost nothing about the watchman.
“Maybe not,” commented the policeman dryly, “but in this business you learn not to have any set ideas about the guilty fellow. Give the evidence a chance to speak for itself!”
Flash silently followed the officer down the hallway to the elevator. The pointed remark about not having set ideas struck home, making him suddenly conscious that his attitude had been anything but unbiased. Hadn’t he been so certain Fred Orris was responsible for the theft that he refused to consider any other possibility?
Now that he reflected, he realized that the watchman had seemed unusually interested in his work. As he thought back, it came to him that when they had been together, he usually was the one to do most of the talking. Old Herm asked many questions and supplied few answers.