Chapter 8
Twelve-Thirty
THE WAY I FELT, it was a little rough working up stuff for the chatter column. But I got enough done, and a pretty tight story of Babe Harron’s collapse. I threw in a few sidelights and wrote some words to be tapped to Shaley, the city editor. But I left out a lot. It wasn’t my job, anyway, and I knew that the papers would be smeared with the crew murder stuff. I found Risdon on deck and told him that I wanted to get the stuff over the wire to my paper. He grunted and said he’s sent ashore Cy Dana’s stuff an hour ago. I was slow.
I nodded. “It’s the warm weather,” I told him. “Couldn’t be anything else— nothing ever happens around here.”
He took my typewritten sheets and said he’d get them ashore and to the telegraph office. I asked him how Vennell was and he lo
