And then it happened! The writers said the next day it was only a lucky punch, but Brady connected with a slashing left hook to the point of Gezzy’s chin. The older boxer folded at the hips and toppled to the canvas in a limp heap.
Flash clicked his camera just as the blow landed. He took another shot as Gezzy made a pathetic attempt to struggle to his feet at the count of ten. The fighter fell back and rolled over, his face ashen and still in the blinding glare of the ring lights. Flash got a shot of that, too.
Elated at his success, he pushed his way through the milling crowd to the street. He was jubilant over the streak of luck which had turned an ordinary assignment into a big story.
“Riley can’t do any kicking this time,” he thought. “I ought to have four dandy pictures.”
Back at the newspaper office he closed himself into the darkroom and placed his films in the developing tank. He set the timing clock. When it went off he removed the films. Eagerly he studied the first one under the ruby light.
For a minute Flash could not believe his own eyes. The film was dark! Not a single detail was visible.
With frantic haste he examined a second film, and the remaining two. Every one had been over-exposed.
Weakly, he sagged against the wall, nearly overcome by the disaster which confronted him. Every film ruined! An icy feeling of dread trembled along his nerves.
“But how could I have done it?” he muttered. “Must have figured my lighting wrong.”
After several minutes he opened the door and stepped out into the blinding light. Joe Wells, who also had been on a special night assignment, was putting away his camera. He stared curiously at Flash.
“What’s the matter?” he asked. “You look sick.”
Flash showed him the blank films and explained what had happened.
“This is a tough break,” said Wells, “though you’re not the first photographer who has had the same experience. Know what it means?”
“Riley will fire me. My work hasn’t impressed him much anyhow.”
Wells stood looking at the black films, frowning thoughtfully.
“There’s just one chance,” he said, “a pretty slim one at that. Do you know Deems of the _Globe_?”
“Yes, I saw him there taking pictures. But I don’t see—”
Wells did not bother to answer. Grabbing his hat, he started toward the door.