Chapter XXXIX · BACK ON PARK ROW.

As Lawyer Hands had confidently expected, the grand jury, after considering all the facts pertaining to the Chronicle’s explosion case, refused to find an indictment against Fred Carroll.

As soon as the proprietor of the Bulletin was set free, the Camera Chap accompanied the lawyer back to New York, and received a warm welcome from Managing Editor Paxton and the Sentinel staff.

One of the first persons whom Hawley met after his return was Doctor Hugo Allyne, the eminent specialist, who had ascribed the Camera Chap’s headaches to nervous indigestion, and advised him to go to some quiet spot and take the “rest cure.”

It was on Broadway that Hawley encountered the man of medicine. Although the latter had a good memory for faces, he had some difficulty in recognizing in the ruddy-complexioned, clear-eyed young man who greeted him, the pale, tired patient who had come to his office for advice a few weeks before.

“Well, you’re certainly looking much better,” Doctor Allyne observed, when Hawley had finally succeeded in identifying himself. “You must have carried out my orders with great fidelity. How are the headaches?”

“Haven’t had a single one since I saw you,” the Camera Chap answered. “I’m feeling as fit as a fiddle.”

“I’m glad to hear it,” said the specialist, much gratified. “There is nothing like a rest cure for cases such as yours. A few weeks in the clear mountain air, and a careful avoidance of all forms of excitement, will work wonders.”

“They certainly will,” Hawley agreed, trying hard not to grin.

For the next few months the Camera Chap was so busy that he did not have time to go back to Oldham to visit his friend Carroll; but he kept track of what was going on in that town by means of the copies of the Bulletin which the mail brought him each day.

One day, just as he was stepping out of the Sentinel office, on his way to take some snapshots of a society wedding, he almost collided with a tall, broad-shouldered young man who was about to enter.

“Why, hello, Mr. Mayor!” he exclaimed delightedly. “This is indeed a pleasant surprise. What on earth is your honor doing so far away from Oldham?”

The Honorable Fred Carroll, mayor of Oldham, smiled expansively as he gripped the Camera Chap’s hand.

“I’ve come to New York especially to look you up,” he announced. “I have just discovered, old man, that I am even more in your debt than I thought I was.”

As Carroll spoke, he drew from his waistcoat pocket a folded slip of pink paper, and handed it to Hawley.

“Why, what’s this?” exclaimed the latter, feigning great astonishment. “A check for five thousand dollars made out to my order! What is the meaning of this, Mr. Mayor?”

“It means,” replied Carroll, a break in his deep voice, “that I have learned the secret of that five thousand dollars’ worth of advertising which your friend Mr. Cheston brought to the Bulletin at a time when the money was sorely needed. I was suspicious of that advertising from the start, Frank, but it was only yesterday that I learned the truth about it—that it was nothing but a ruse on your part to get me to accept a loan from you. Old man, I shall never forget your kindness. You certainly are the best friend a fellow ever had. You had done so much for me already; then, to cap it all, you went and drew your savings——

“Oh, quit it!” Hawley interrupted gruffly. “For Heaven’s sake, put out the stump speech, Fred. The money was idle in the bank. I had no immediate use for it, and I knew that you had; so it was only logical that I should let you have it until such a time as the Bulletin was making enough money to enable you to pay me back. If that time has now arrived, I’ll accept your check, and we’ll consider the incident closed. But I can’t take half of that amount. Rest assured, I didn’t give all those people free advertising. I made contracts with them through an agency, gave them very low rates, and in a little while I had part of the money back in the bank.”

As Carroll still seemed intent on thanking him, the Camera Chap headed him off by hurriedly changing the subject.

“How is Mrs. Carroll?” he inquired.

“First-rate, thank you. Melba joins me, Frank, in thank——”

“And how are you making out as mayor?”

“Fine! If I do say it myself, I seem to be making a great hit with the people of Oldham. I’ve already put into effect several important reforms. One of them was the repealing of the anticamera ordinance. It’s a different town since the People’s Party succeeded that bunch of grafters who were running things in Henkle’s time. But I say, Frank, I really must express my thanks for——”

“By the way, what has become of Henkle?” the Camera Chap inquired hastily.

“He has retired to private life—says he’s had enough of politics. I shall never forget, old man, what you have done for——”

“And the Gales? Are they still running the Chronicle? I understand they escaped being indicted for that bomb conspiracy.”

“Yes,” Carroll answered. “Henkle used all the influence he could wield to save them, and managed to get them whitewashed. Of course, for Melba’s sake, I was mighty glad to have it turn out that way. But they’re not running the Chronicle any more. Old Gale found himself so unpopular as a result of that explosion affair that as soon as he was able to leave the hospital he sold his paper at a ridiculously low figure; sold his house, too, and left town for good.”

“And did his son go with him?”

“Yes. I understand, though, that he’s trying to get back his old job on the New York Daily News, so possibly you’ll have the pleasure of seeing him again before long. But I say, Frank, I’ve come all the way from Oldham to tell you how much I appreciate——”

“And how about my old friend Chief Hodgins?” the Camera Chap relentlessly interrupted. “I saw in the Bulletin that you fired him from the force as soon as you were sworn in. What is he doing now?”

Carroll laughed. “He has gone into the hotel business. He’s bought an inn on Main Street, not far from police headquarters. He’s got a big sign in the lobby, just before the clerk’s desk, and it says: ‘No cameras allowed on these premises!’”

THE END.