"I want a
good snappy interview, understand, and descriptions for some red-hot
pictures, if you can't get photos. I'm going to save the spread in the
Sunday magazine for that story, and you don't want to slip up on the
Athelstone end of it. That hall is just what the story needs for a
setting. Get in and size it up."
"You remember what happened to that _Courier_ man who got in?"
ventured Simpkins.
"I believe I did hear something about a _Courier_ man's being
snaked out of a closet and kicked downstairs. Served him right.
_Very_ coarse work. Very coarse work _indeed_. There's a better
way and you'll find it." There was something unpleasantly significant in
his voice, as he terminated the interview by swinging around to his desk
and picking up a handful of papers, which warned the reporter that he
had gone the limit.
Simpkins had heard of the hall, for it had been written up just after
Doctor Athelstone, who was a man of some wealth, had assembled in it his
private collection of Egyptian treasures. But he knew, too, that it had
become increasingly difficult to penetrate since Mrs. Athelstone had
been made the subject of some entertaining, but too imaginative, Sunday
specials. Still, now that he had properly magnified the difficulties
of the undertaking to Naylor, that the disgrace of defeat might be
discounted or the glory of achievement enhanced, he believed that he
knew a way to gain access to the hall and perhaps to manage a talk with
Mrs.
Pages:
1
2
3
4
5
6
7
8
9
10
11
12
13
14
15
16
17
18
19
20
21
22
23
24
25