Gale didn’t stop to enlighten him. Muttering something under his breath, he turned on his heel and hurried downstairs to his father’s office. “Seen anything of Melba, governor?” he demanded. “Not since breakfast time. Why do you ask?” “Simply to hear myself talk, I guess,” said Gale, with an angry laugh. “I might have known that you hadn’t seen her. She took jolly good care, of course, to avoid being seen by either one of us.” “Why, my son, what on earth is the matter?” exclaimed the proprietor of the _Chronicle_ uneasily. “The matter is that we’ve been stung--stung by that precious niece of yours. Those negatives are not upstairs.” “Not upstairs?” echoed the elder Gale, with a look of blank bewilderment. “Then where are they?” His son laughed grimly. “I guess they’re in the _Bulletin’s_ photo-engraving room at this moment, being made into cuts for to-morrow morning’s paper. Melba has worked the same game on us that that kid worked on Carroll.” CHAPTER XXIV. FROM GLOOM TO JOY. “Excuse me, Mr. Carroll, but there’s a lady outside who wants to see you.” The proprietor of the _Bulletin_ frowned at the reporter who made this announcement. The latter’s desk was situated near the door of the editorial room, and therefore it had fallen to his lot to respond to the fair visitor’s timid knock upon that portal. “A lady!” muttered Carroll peevishly. “Who is she, and what does she want?” This was only a short time after his painful discovery of the loss of those precious negatives, and he was not feeling at all in the mood to receive visitors. “She says that she wants to sell you some pictures, sir--some photographs,” the reporter announced. The frown upon Carroll’s face deepened. “Tell her I don’t want any,” he said. Pictures were a very sore subject just then. “Tell her to come around some other day, when I’m not so busy.” The Camera Chap, who was seated at Carroll’s elbow, smiled. “Why not see what she’s got?” he suggested mildly. “Don’t be a grouch, Fred. Maybe these pictures may be something we want--something that will be newsy enough for to-morrow’s front page, to take the place of the missing ones.” Carroll shook his head. “Precious little chance of that,” he grumbled. “I’ll bet they’re photographs of the latest Paris fashions, a new style of hair dressing, or some such rot. However, I suppose I’d better see her.” Two minutes later he was mighty glad that he had come to this determination. He jumped to his feet with an exclamation of astonishment as he caught sight of the girl advancing toward his desk. “Melba!” he cried. “You here--in the _Bulletin_ office! What on earth does this mean?” The girl laughed. “Why, really, Fred, this isn’t a very gracious reception. You actually seem more alarmed than glad to see me--doesn’t he, Mr. Hawley?”