The Clock Strikes Thirteen Part 11

"That will be very acceptable," the real estate man responded, smiling with satisfaction. "I'll be happy to oblige you by posing."

Helping himself to a pen, he wrote out the cheque and presented it to the editor.

"Penny, how would you like to write the story?" inquired her father.

"You've been helping Miss Norton with the publicity, I believe."

"I'm rather bogged down with work," Penny demurred. "I think Mrs. Weems wants me to clean the attic when I get home."

"Never mind the attic. Please conduct Mr. Blake to the photography room and ask one of the boys to take his picture."

Penny arose obediently, but as the real estate man left the office ahead of her, she shot her father a black look. She considered a publicity story very trivial indeed, and it particularly displeased her that she must write honeyed words about a man she did not admire.

"You have a very nice building here, very nice," Mr. Blake patronizingly remarked as he was escorted toward the photographic department. Noticing a pile of freshly printed newspapers lying on one of the desks, he helped himself to a copy.

"I see the sheriff hasn't captured Clem Davis yet," he commented, scanning the front page. "I hope they get him! It's a disgrace to Riverview that such a crime could be perpetrated, and the scoundrel go unpunished."

"He'll probably be caught," Penny replied absently. "But I wonder if he's the guilty person."

"What's that?" Mr. Blake demanded, regarding her with shrewd interest.

"You think Davis didn't burn the Preston barn?"

"I was only speculating upon it."

"Reflecting your father's opinion, no doubt."

"No, not anyone's thought but my own."

"Your father seems to be making quite a story of it," Mr. Blake resumed.

"It will be most unfortunate for the community if he stirs up talk about underground organizations."

"Why unfortunate?" Penny asked.

"Because it will give the city a bad reputation. I doubt there is anything to this Black Hood talk, but if there should be, any publicity might lead to an investigation by state authorities."

"A very good thing, I should think."

"You do not understand," Mr. Blake said patiently. "Depredation would increase, innocent persons surely would suffer. With Riverview known unfavorably throughout the country, we would gain no new residents."

Penny did not reply, but opened the door of the photographic room. While Mr. Blake wandered about, inspecting the various equipment, she relayed her father's instructions to Salt Sommers, one of the staff photographers.

"Better get a good picture of Blake," she warned him. "He'll be irritated if you don't."

"I'll do my best," Salt promised, "but I can't make over a man's face."

Mr. Blake proved to be a trying subject. Posed on a stool in front of a screen, he immediately "froze" into a stiff position.

"Be sure to make it only a head and shoulders picture, if you please," he ordered Salt.

"Can't you relax?" the photographer asked wearily. "Unloosen your face.

Think of all those little orphans you're going to make happy."

Mr. Blake responded with a smirk which was painful to behold. Nothing that Salt could say or do caused him to become natural, and at length the photographer took two shots which he knew would not be satisfactory.

"That'll be all," he announced.

Mr. Blake arose, drawing a deep sigh. "Posing is a great ordeal for me,"

he confessed. "I seldom consent to having my picture taken, but this is a very special occasion."

Completely at ease again, the real estate man began to converse with Penny. In sudden inspiration, Salt seized a candid camera from a gla.s.s case, and before Mr. Blake was aware of his act, snapped a picture.

"There, that's more like it," he said. "I caught you just right, Mr.

Blake."

The real estate man turned swiftly, his eyes blazing anger.

"You dared to take a picture without my permission?" he demanded. "I'll not have it! Destroy the film at once or I shall protest to Mr. Parker!"

CHAPTER 8 _PUBLICITY BY PENNY_

The real estate man's outburst was so unexpected that Penny and Salt could only stare at him in astonishment.

"It's a good full length picture," the photographer argued. "Much better than those other shots I took."

"I can't allow it," Blake answered in a calmer tone. He touched his right arm. "You see, I am sensitive about this deformity. Unreasonable of me, perhaps, but I must insist that you destroy the film."

"Just as you say," Salt shrugged. "We'll use one of the other pictures."

"No, I've changed my mind," Blake said shortly. "I don't care for any picture. Kindly destroy all the films--now, in my presence."

"Why, Mr. Blake!" Penny protested. "I thought you wanted a picture to accompany the story I am to write."

"You may write the article, but I'll have no picture. The films must be destroyed."

"Okay," responded Salt. Removing two plates from a holder he exposed them to the light. He started to take the film from the candid camera, but did not complete the operation. Mr. Blake, however, failed to notice.

"Thank you, young man," he said, bowing. "I am sorry to have taken so much of your valuable time, and I appreciate your efforts."

Nodding in Penny's direction, Mr. Blake left the studio, closing the door behind him.

"Queer duck," commented Salt. "His picture on the front page would be no break for our readers!"

"I can't understand why Mr. Blake became so provoked," Penny said thoughtfully. "That excuse about his arm seemed a flimsy one."

"Let's develop the film and see what it looks like," Salt suggested, starting for the darkroom. "It was just an ordinary shot though."