Chapter VII

Jimmy decided to put a detailed account of the latest developments of the story on the wire in Lentone. He therefore asked Matthews to take him down in the sea sled. He could make better time that way than driving his own car over the plowed and unplowed fields that lay between the camp and the road.

But he did not telegraph his story. He found the small telegraph office besieged with a crowd of men and women, all clamoring for a wire. Jimmy grinned at the spectacle. It did not take the veteran newspaper man more than a glance to know it for what it was.

Three hours had elapsed between the time he telephoned his flash and the moment when he stepped into the small telegraph office in Newport. In those three hours, all the big and some of the little papers of the country had frantically wired their nearest correspondents to get busy.

From the North in Canada, from the South, East and West men and women began converging on the little town of Lentone, Vermont. A day later these local correspondents would be replaced by star reporters, special writers, feature writers, syndicate writers, novelists, and sob sisters.

Jimmy knew that within twenty-four hours every big newspaper in the country and every important press service would be represented.

Still grinning, he backed out of the telegraph office and hunted for the nearest public telephone. He found a repetition here of the condition he had met in the telegraph office. He had to walk six blocks before he came to a booth at which one or more persons were not awaiting their turn.

Forgotten now was any thought of enjoying himself in rest and recreation on his vacation. The newspaper man remains a newspaper man for a long time, only because he loves the game. And "game" is what the newspaper man who belongs, calls it. Those who do not belong get out of it sooner or later. On a big story he does not think of food, drink or hours. In the absorption of a big story he can and does continue without rest an unbelievable number of hours, subject himself to relentless physical strain. In doing so he enjoys it, as he does nothing else. He exemplifies perfectly the statement by the philosopher that there is no greater joy on earth than the one found in work. Hardly anyone, in any other occupation puts in the hours, the work, the loyalty for so little financial reward as does the newspaper man.

Jimmy's connection with his office was quickly made. Hite's few sentences were short, sharp, barking ones. Hite was keyed up to the highest pitch. By this time a call had gone out and he had enough men to handle all phases of the story. Hite gave some brief orders, made some caustic comment and switched the wire to Roy Heath's desk.

Even this individual's speech was not now the lazy drawl it habitually was. The tremendous scope of the story, the tense feverish activity on the part of Hite at the desk near him infected even Roy Heath.

Jimmy knew without being there that since the moment he had hung up the receiver on his first call, Hite and the rest of the staff had been in a frenzy of activity. Jimmy could picture it as though he were there, Hite barking orders to men and office boys at his elbow and at men and women perhaps hundreds and thousands of miles away. Jimmy could picture the stream of men and women and boys parading before his desk for orders. Jimmy could picture him perhaps talking into three telephones almost simultaneously; to the composing room, to a member of the staff somewhere in the Metropolitan area and to a correspondent many miles away.

Far and wide over the entire country, lapping over into foreign countries ranged the newspaper net that was thrown out for information. This information, arriving at the office, would be weeded out. The wheat would be separated from the chaff; the usable stuff would be licked into shape and Roy Heath and two other rewrite men would transform it into living, dramatic, racing, pulsating recital.

With only a faint trace of his lazy drawl, Roy said:

"All right, Jimmy, shoot it fast. Story waitin' for a new lead."

Jimmy poured into his ears the newest developments of the story; Professor Brierly's search and his conclusions. Jimmy concluded with:

"About the New York end now, Roy. About Schurman and Wrigley--"

"We're coverin' that, Jimmy. Schurman committed suicide, I guess, and about Wrigley, nothin' to that. He was drowned. He--"

At this point Jimmy interrupted. With a fair imitation of Professor Brierly's crisp, staccato, clear cut accents, with the perfectly astonishing memory for which James Hale was known, he said:

"Oh, yes? Not much question about Wrigley, the man who was found in the water at Bradley Beach, is there? All we know about him is that he was found dead in the water. Do you know that he was drowned? Of course you don't.

"And Schurman, the man who was reported to have committed suicide by hanging. All you know about that is that he was found hanging in his study, dead. Do you know that he died by hanging? Do you know that he was not dead before he was hung? If that is the case, if he was dead before he was hung, then, obviously he could not have hung himself. Perfectly astonishing to me, Mr. Heath, that a man who has followed your profession as long as you have should be so gullible. For that matter, do you know these men are really dead. We scientists--"

With surprising patience, Roy had listened to this burlesque. That was because Roy was one of the greatest rewrite men in the profession. Roy's quick mind had instantly grasped the thing that was behind this burlesque. At this point he interrupted.

"I get you, Professor. Too bad you can't be here yourself. But I promise that in a couple hours we'll know more about Schurman's and Wrigley's death. Swell tip, Jimmy. We'll go right after it. That all?"

"Yep," said Jimmy, going back to character. "That's all, Roy, s'long. Oh, wait a minute, Roy. Schurman is at your end. Got any dope on that?"

"No, Jimmy, all we got is a flash. We're gettin' the details now. He had engaged a plane to fly up to Higginbotham's camp, plannin' to be there first thing in the mornin'. When he didn't come up to the airport, the pilot began telephonin'. Finally, about eight o'clock or so in the morning, an old woman who takes care of Schurman's apartment, came and found him hangin'. That's about all we got, Jimmy."

Jimmy was about to hang up the receiver, when Hite's harsh growl cut in:

"Wait a minute, Jimmy. I was listening in. You gave me an idea. We can and will, of course, verify these two deaths, but it would be swell if Professor Brierly were here. Could you persuade him to come down here to give us the benefit of his experience and advice?"

"I don't know, chief. He's a crochety old gent, you know, and he has notions about things. He might take the notion that it is not fitting or pleasant or convenient to go. He might think--oh, he might think anything."

"Yes, Jimmy, I know something about the peppery old gent. But you stand pretty strong with him. See if you can persuade him. I'm going to take it for granted that he'll come. Will he object to riding in a plane?"

"Who, Professor Brierly? Don't make me laugh, chief. There isn't a thing on, above or beneath the earth that he's afraid of. If he decides to come he'll want to come the quickest way possible."

"All right then, Jimmy. I'll charter a plane by wire. If he consents to come there will be a plane ready for him in the airport most convenient to his camp, wherever that is, or right on the lake. Step on it, Jimmy."

Jimmy thought of using the telephone, decided against it. It might take some diplomatic finesse to persuade the old scientist to hire himself out to a newspaper. He might feel it degrading and cheapening to do such a thing.

On the way to the camp, Jimmy's moods were reflected in his features by alternate smiles and frowns as he pictured the manner in which his office would be received.

By the time he reached the camp he decided against using any cheap trickery to accomplish his purpose. He held Professor Brierly in too much esteem to attempt such a thing. He made up his mind that forthright frankness would serve his purpose best. He was delighted and surprised at the ease with which his errand was accomplished.

Professor Brierly consented to make the trip without hesitation. He did balk at first about accepting the plane at the expense of Jimmy's paper, but he was persuaded that it was ethical in the highest degree to do so. Jimmy clinched this argument by saying that if Professor Brierly refused to do it for the paper, Hite would perhaps engage one of the charlatans or pseudo-scientists, against whom the old savant was in the habit of raving.

At this moment there came from the direction of the lake the deafening roar of an airplane motor, which diminished as it came nearer. Looking out they saw an amphibian taxi to within a few yards of the wharf. Hite had not wasted time. The plane was there to take Professor Brierly to New York.

Jimmy decided to call it a day. His long drive from New York and the strenuous day just past, broken only by a few hours' sleep, told even on his robust constitution. Besides, there was nothing further to do that afternoon. Hite had indicated that when Jimmy's fresh news was put on the presses the staff would quit for the day.

He was in Lentone bright and early the following morning. A short visit to the home of the late Morris Miller followed by a visit to the police, gave him very little for a new lead to the story. He ruefully told himself that the news was probably where Professor Brierly was. He telephoned to his paper.

Hite's voice had a tremor that showed he came as near laughing as he ever got.

"Great little guy that professor of yours, Jimmy. My, oh my, what a newspaper man he would have made. Is he always that way, Jimmy?"

"What did he do, chief?"

"What did he do? For one thing he came as near getting me fired from this job as I ever got. He snarled and growled at me. He told the managing editor that he was an ignoramus and the M.E., believe it or not, took it, took it like a little lamb, Jimmy. Dije ever hear anybody call the M.E. an idiot and get away with it?

"He told Mr. Conway, the boss, that he was a charlatan; that he was running a yellow sheet; that he had the ethics of a hyena; that he was pandering to the worst passions of the ignorant mob and a few other choice things.

"He set the police commissioner's office on its collective ear and drove the medical examiners crazy. What he said to them should be preserved as a method of raising blisters on a man's skin with language and done in good English.

"He did say one nice thing about one human being. He said that one James Hale, Esq., was not so bad--for a newspaper man. Now don't get swelled up over this like a poisoned pup, Jimmy, or I'll have you killed. The price quoted for murdering a newspaper man is very low.

"But Jimmy, he gave us a swell new lead on the story. Schurman was murdered. Everybody here said he had committed suicide. As for Wrigley, that appears to have been an honest drowning. He was really drowned. We're looking it up just the same, but we have the old bird's word for it that he died by drowning. Say, Jimmy doesn't that bird ever sleep. He was busy as a bee all night. He left here about five this morning and may be up there already for all I know. When he left he was as chipper and fresh and full of pep as--well words fail me, Jimmy.

"He says he's going right up to the camp of Justice Higginbotham. Jimmy, I'd give a leg if I could have had a stenographic report of his speeches while he was here and a picture of the individuals at whom those speeches were fired.

"S'long, Jimmy, remember we're runnin' a daily paper and not a quarterly." This was Hite's usual formula.

Jimmy now decided to charter a swift motor boat. Professor Brierly's camp and Justice Higginbotham's camp were both a considerable distance off the main road. A swift motor boat, with a competent man to handle it, would transport him from Lentone to either or both camps in less time than would a motor car.

Getting a motor boat was not as easy as he had anticipated. He learned that a sudden demand within the past twenty-four hours had apparently exhausted all the available craft that were for hire. Something that one of the boatmen let drop gave him an inkling of the reason for this. The correspondents who were pouring into Newport had reached the same conclusion as he and had forestalled him. He also learned that every available motor car had been hired within the past few hours.

Foreseeing the possibility of being on the story for some time, he set out with the idea that if he could not charter a boat he would buy one. He felt that the expense would be justified and he was certain the powers that be on his paper would approve such a step; they were not niggardly in the matter of expenses.

After a protracted search he found a youngster of eighteen, Harry Stoy, who was not only willing to sell him his sea sled, but was also willing to hire out as the boat's crew. Harry was a fine upstanding youngster, who knew motor boats and who knew the lake and surrounding country. When Harry learned that the man to whom he sold the boat was a newspaper man on a big murder story, he stopped bargaining and entered the chase with nearly the same amount of enthusiasm as that shown by the reporter himself.

Jimmy opened his eyes wide with astonishment when Harry took him to Justice Higginbotham's camp. Boats were tied to the small wharf. Boats were moored to every available spot on the shore. For hundreds of yards about the wharf boats were anchored. Not since he had seen a regatta had Jimmy seen so many boats in one place at the same time.

When he stepped to the wharf and thence to the wide porch, he understood the cause of this. As he had seen at the telegraph office and the public telephone booths, Justice Higginbotham's camp was now a magnet for all the newspapers and press services in the United States and Canada. Near the wharf he recognized the plane that had transported Professor Brierly to New York.