Page 115 of The Secrets of Lord Grayson Child
But he smiled a warm, almost-intimate smile and stated, “Nothing could keep me away. Aside from all else, I’ve a vested interest in learning what Hennessy has to say.” He paused as if consulting a mental diary, then said, “I won’t turn up for breakfast, but I’ll drop by the printing works in the morning to see how matters are shaping up.”
She nodded and led him to the door. Holding it open, she met his eyes and smiled. “I’ll see you then.”
The following morning, Izzy turned the corner into the mews a good five minutes before eight o’clock and discovered Donaldson and Digby leaning against the printing works’ door. They spotted her approaching and straightened, enthusiasm lighting their faces.
They greeted her and stepped aside to allow her to unlock the door.
“We’re keen to see what we captured on Saturday,” Donaldson said.
She laughed. “So I see.”
She led the way inside, smiling even more broadly as, delaying only long enough to hang their coats and mufflers on the pegs, the pair made a beeline for the darkroom.
“We’ll bring you the prints as soon as we have them,” Donaldson called, then pushed through the door.
She paused and watched Digby flip the sign to Occupied before following and closing the door.
Smiling, she continued to her desk and scribbled a note to get a formal agreement with Donaldson drawn up and signed. “And I must remember to give him the key to the rear door.”
She sat at her desk, opened the side drawer, hunted, and found the key Littlejohn had returned. After setting the key on one side of the desk, she retrieved her pencil and jotted a further reminder to speak to Lipson about hiring a new printer’s devil and formally promoting Digby to photographer’s assistant. He’d proved invaluable on Saturday, helping Donaldson with the tripod and the rest of his paraphernalia. Besides, Digby had a passion, and she knew how far passion could propel one.
Within minutes, the rest of the staff were coming through the main door, and she rose and went to greet them. They gathered around, and for those who hadn’t heard, she duly reported on all that had happened, skating over her role and ending with a commendation to them all for their sterling efforts in getting out the hue and cry edition, which was the essential catalyst for all that had followed.
Although the Lipsons and Maguires had already heard the tale, they’d remained to share the wonder with the others. On hearing of the explosion, Gerry and Jim went wide-eyed, and the news that Donaldson might have got a photograph of the moment caused everyone to look longingly at the closed darkroom door.
Then Lipson said, “And now we’ve got an even bigger edition to put out, one reporting on the outcome of the hue and cry. Everyone in London’s going to want a copy of that—a real-life drama they’ve watched unfold.”
Everyone agreed, and soon, the workshop was humming with the usual Monday sounds of getting the press, the boiler, the formes, and the boxes of type ready to set and print the week’s edition.
As she retreated to her office, Izzy considered Lipson’s words. He was right; this edition would trump even the hue and cry in sales, and in truth, the story—even her edited verbal version of it—contained all the right ingredients to capture imaginations.
For once, however, it was not up to her to write the piece. As she sat again behind her desk, she owned to rampant curiosity over what Hennessy would produce. Meanwhile, she settled to craft an introduction that would permanently turn readers’ minds from the hopefully forgotten exposé to the murder and the quest to identify and catch a killer.
It was stirring stuff, and she enjoyed the challenge. On reaching the end of the short piece designed to lead in to Hennessy’s article, she sat back and read it through.
She frowned and laid down the sheet. “Damn it—I’ll need to check with Drake.”
How much would he and his masters allow to be said about the plot?
“On the other hand,” she mused, eyes narrowing in thought, “this could be very neatly exploited to ensure no similar action against the telegraph occurs again. A spiking of the ultimate villains’ guns, as it were.”
She pondered that until the bell over the main door tinkled. She rose and went to see who had arrived.
Halting in the doorway, she watched as Hennessy glanced around the workshop and cordially nodded to those who looked his way. As she’d mentioned that he was writing the lead article to run in this week’s edition, all the staff were curious about him.
When his gaze reached her, she nodded in welcome and beckoned. “Come in and let me see what you have.”
He grinned and, as she retreated behind her desk again, came into the office.
She directed him to the chair facing her. As he sat, she said, “First things first. I’ve just realized that we’ll need to check with Winchelsea regarding what details we include in any piece.”
Hennessy grimaced expressively and reluctantly nodded. “But you’re not going to hold the story?”
“Good God, no! I’m prepared to gloss over any details that might be sensitive, but we’re going to run enough to satisfy the most avid reader.”
He grinned. “Excellent. You’re a lady after my own heart.” He drew out several sheets and handed them across the desk. “This is what I’ve got so far. Still in draft—see what you think.”
Already reading, she held out the single sheet of her introduction. “This is such a departure from a normal edition, we’ll need an introduction to your report.”
