Page:Burton Stevenson--The marathon mystery.djvu/44



ODFREY glanced at his watch. It was after nine o’clock. The rain had almost ceased, but the wind was still high. He turned back to the building and found the janitor sitting just inside the door. He had endured the ordeal of inquisition by police and reporters and was rather limp.

“May I use your telephone a moment?” asked Godfrey.

The janitor waved his hand toward the booth. Godfrey called up his office and asked that a photographer and an artist be sent up at once. The readers of the Record demanded illustrations with every story, and the paper always did its best to please them, at whatever cost of labour, ingenuity, or money. That done, Godfrey went back to the janitor and sat down beside him.

After all, he told himself, he had as yet only half the story; he must get every detail from this man, and he saw that it would be necessary to proceed delicately, for his companion’s temper was evidently badly ruffled. He was a thick-set, choleric man, with a shortness of breath which perhaps argued some weakness of the heart. Godfrey studied him now for a moment before he ventured to open fire.

“Well,” he began, at last, “you look as though those fellows had about worn you out, Mr.”