boucher book oct28.pdf - Index of

We Print the Truth 479
started to slip. A firm hand shoved him back into place.
He opened his eyes. They ached even more resolutely when open, and he quickly
dropped his lids. But he had seen that he was on the narrow couch in the back office,
that Molly’s hand had rescued him from rolling off, and that it was daylight.
“Are you OK, boss?” Molly’s voice was softer than usual.
“I’ll be all right as soon as they shovel the dirt in on me.”
“Can you listen while I tell you things?”
“I can try. Tell me the worst. What did I do? Climb chandeliers and sing bawdy
ballads to the Ladies’ Aid?”
He heard Molly laugh. “You weren’t plastered, boss. You were in a fight. Remember?”
The shudder that ran through him testified to his memory. “I remember now.
Hitchcock’s little playmates. And Bricker showed up and staged the grand rescue
and I passed out. Fine, upstanding hero I am. Can’t take it—”
“You took plenty. Doc Quillan was worried about a concussion at first. That’s
why he had us keep you here—didn’t want to risk moving you home. But he looked
at you again this morning and he thinks you’ll be OK.”
“And I never even felt it. Exalted, that’s what I must’ve been. Wonderful thing,
lust of battle. This morning! Sunlight.” He forced his eyes open and tried to sit up.
“Then it’s Friday! The paper should be—”
Molly pushed him back. “Don’t worry, boss. The Sentinel came out this morning.
Everything’s hunky-dory. Bricker lent us a couple of men to help, and it’s all
swell.”
“Bricker— Where’d we be without him? A god out of the machinists’ union.
And the paper’s out …” Suddenly he tried to sit up again, then decided against it.
“Molly!”
“Yes, boss?”
“Have you been in Courthouse Square this morning?”
“No, boss. Doc Quillan said I ought to— I mean, there’s been so much to do
here in the office—”
“Have you seen Jake?”
“Uh-huh. That was funny. He dropped in this morning. I think he heard about
the ruckus and wanted to see was there anything in his line of business. And has
he changed!”
“Changed?” What voice MacVeagh had was breathless.
“He practically delivered a sermon. All about what a fool he’s been and man
cannot live by bread alone and in times like these and stuff. Grover isn’t going to
seem the same without Jake’s atheism.”
“Scientific method,” said MacVeagh.
“What do you mean, boss?”
“Molly, there’s something I’ve got to tell you about the Sentinel. You’ll think I’m
crazy maybe, but there’s too much to disregard. You’ve got to believe it.”
“Boss, you know I believe every word you say.” She laughed, but the laugh didn’t
succeed in discounting her obvious sincerity.
“Molly—”
“Hi, MacVeagh. Feeling fit again? Ready to take on a dozen more finks?”