Larry Dexter, Reporter/Chapter 7

young reporter had almost forgotten about his narrow escape, so anxious was he to get a good account of the fire, when he was surprised to hear a voice at his side saying:

“Are you trying to get all the good stories that happen?”

Larry looked up, and saw Mr. Newton.

“Golly, but I'm glad to see you!” said Larry.

“What's this I hear about you nearly getting caught under a wall?” asked Mr. Newton. “A policeman told me.”

“It wasn't anything,” replied Larry. “I was trying to get close to where the accident happened.”

“There's such a thing as getting too close,” remarked Mr. Newton, grimly. “Get the news, and don't be afraid, but don't go poking your head into the lion's mouth. You can take it easier now. I'm going to help you.”

“Did you know I was here?” asked Larry.

“No. Mr. Emberg heard of the fire, and telephoned me I had better cover it.”

“It's 'most over now,” observed Larry

“So I see,” remarked Mr. Newton, as he noted that the flames were dying out under the dampening influence of tons of water poured on them. “You've seen the best part of it. I suppose it will make a good story?”

“Fine,” replied Larry. “I only hope I can write it up in good shape.”

“I guess you can, all right,” responded Mr. Newton. “I'll help you. Perhaps you had better go home now, as your mother might be worried about you.”

Larry agreed that this was a good plan, and made his way through the crowd to a car, which he boarded for his home, arriving somewhat after midnight.

His mother was sitting up waiting for him, and was somewhat alarmed at his absence, as rumors of the big fire had spread downtown, and it was said that a number had been killed.

“I'm so glad you were not hurt, Larry,” said she. “I hope you were in no danger.”

“Not very much,” replied Larry, for he did not think it well to tell his mother how nearly he had been hurt.

When Mr. Emberg learned the next day that Larry had, without being particularly assigned to it, covered the big fire, the city editor was much pleased. He praised the lad highly, and said he appreciated what Larry had done.

The young reporter had his hands full that day writing an account of the fire. Mr. Newton gave him some help, but the story, in the main, was Larry's, with some corrections the copy readers made.

“It's a story to be proud of,” said Mr. Emberg, when the last edition had gone to press. “You are doing well, Larry.”

One afternoon, several days later, when Larry had been sent to the City Hall to get some information about a report the municipal treasurer was about to submit, the boy was standing in the corridor, having telephoned the story in. He saw a short, dark-complexioned man, with a heavy black mustache walking up and down the marble-paved hall. Several times the stranger stopped, and peered at Larry.

“I hope he will recognize me when he sees me again,” thought the lad.

“Hello, Larry,” called a reporter on another paper, as he came from the tax office, where he had been in search of a possible story. “Anything good?”

“No,” replied Larry. “I was down on that yarn about the treasurer's report. You got that, I guess.”

“Oh, yes, we got that. Nothing else, eh?”

“Not that I know of. I'm just holding down the job until Mr. Newton gets back. He went out to get a bite to eat, and they didn't like to leave the Hall uncovered.”

“Well, I guess you can hold it down all right,” replied the other. “That was a good story of the fire that you wrote.”

“Thanks,” answered Larry, as his friend went away.

All this time the dark-complexioned stranger was walking up and down the corridor. Finally he came up to Larry, and asked:

“Is your name Larry Dexter?”

“Yes, sir,” replied the reporter.

“You're on the Leader, aren't you?”

“That's the paper. Why, have you got a story?”

“No,” answered the man, with a short laugh. “I don't deal in stories, but I see you're wide awake, always on the lookout for 'em, eh?”

“Have to be.”

“How would you like to get into some other line of business?” asked the man, coming closer, and dropping his voice to a whisper.

Larry thought the proceeding rather a strange one, but imagined the man might not intend anything more than a friendly interest.

“It depends on what sort of business,” replied the youth.

“Do you like reporting very much?” the stranger went on.

“I do, so far.”

“Isn't it rather hard work and poor pay?”

“Well, it's hard work sometimes, and then again it isn't. As for the pay, I guess I get all I'm worth.”

“I'm in a position to get you a better job,” the man continued. “I'm in a big real estate firm, the Universal we call it, and we need a bright boy. I have some friends in the City Hall here, some of the aldermen, and they said you would be a good lad for the place.”

“I don't know how the aldermen ever heard of me,” remarked Larry.

“Well, I guess you've been around the Hall a good bit,” the man went on. “You were at the insurance hearing, weren't you?”

“I carried copy for one of the reporters,” said Larry.

“Well, anyhow,” resumed the stranger, “do you think you'd like to work in a real estate office? There's plenty of chances to make money, besides what we would pay you as a salary. We could give you twenty dollars a week to start. How would that strike you?”

Larry was puzzled how to answer. The pay was five dollars a week more than he was getting, and if the man told the truth about the chance to make extra money, it might mean a good deal to the lad and his mother.

“I'll think about it,” said the young reporter. “I'll have to talk with my mother about it.”

“I've seen your mother, and she says it's all right,” the man said, quickly. “If you want to you can come with me now, and I'll start you in at once. You'd better come. The offer is a good one, and I can't hold it open long.”

Now Larry, though rather young, was inclined to be cautious. It seemed strange that a man, whom, as far as the reporter knew, he had never seen before, should take such a sudden interest in him, and should even go to see Mrs. Dexter to ask if Larry could take another position. Then, too, the stranger seemed altogether too eager to get Larry to leave his position on the Leader. The man saw Larry's hesitancy.

“I'll make it twenty-five dollars a week,” he said. “Better come.”

“I can't decide right away,” the boy returned. “I must see my mother.”

“Do you doubt my word?” asked the stranger somewhat angrily.

“No,” said Larry. “But even if my mother gave her permission I could not leave the Leader without giving some notice to Mr. Emberg. It would not be right.”

“Don't worry about that,” sneered the man. “They would never bother about giving you notice if they wanted you to leave. They'd fire you in a second, if it suited them. Why should you give any notice?”

The man appeared so eager, and seemed to place so much importance on Larry's taking the offer, that the boy became more suspicious than ever, that all was not as it should be.

“I will think it over,” said he. “If you will leave me your card I'll write to you.”

“If you don't take the offer at once I can't hold it open,” said the man, in rather unpleasant tones. “However, here's my card. If you come to your senses, and decide to work for my company, why, I'll see what I can do for you. Though I can't promise anything after to-day. You'll have to take your chance with others.”

“I'll be willing to do that if I decide to come.”

“Hello, Larry!” exclaimed a voice, and Mr. Newton came around the corner of the corridor. “You here yet?”

“I was waiting for you to come back,” replied Larry. “Mr. Emberg told me to stay, and see that nothing broke loose while you were at lunch.”

“Anything doing?”

“Not a thing.” Larry turned to see if the stranger was at his side, but, to his surprise, the man had vanished.

“What did he want?” asked Mr. Newton, with a nod of his head toward where the man had been standing.

“Why, he wanted me to leave the Leader, and take a position with some real estate firm,” answered Larry.

“Don't you have anything to do with Sam Perkins,” said Mr. Newton.

“Is that his name?” inquired Larry. Then he looked at the card the man had given him, and read on it: “Samuel Perkins, representing the Universal Real Estate Co. Main Office, 1144 Broadway, New York. Loans and Commissions.”

“That's who he is,” replied Mr. Newton. “What was his game this time?”

“That's just what I was trying to puzzle out,” was Larry's answer, as he related what the man had said.

Mr. Newton listened carefully. He nodded his head several times.

“That's it, I'll bet a cookie. When you go home ask your mother just what Perkins said, and let me know.”

“Why, do you think there is something wrong in his offer?”

“I can't tell. I have my suspicions, but I'll not speak of them until I know more. Tell me what your mother says. In the meanwhile, if Perkins comes to you again, which I don't think he will, since he has seen me speaking to you, just put him off until you can communicate with me.”

“Do you know him?”

“Know him? I guess yes!” replied Mr. Newton. “He was mixed up in more than one and land scandal with the aldermen, but we never could get enough evidence to convict him. Maybe we can this time, if he's up to any of his tricks. Don't forget to ask your mother all about his visit.”

“I'll remember,” replied Larry. Then, as the City Hall was about to close for the day, they went back to the office.