He read the letter over again, and chuckled. “He says that he has not forgotten his physician’s instructions to avoid all forms of excitement, or my advice to try to forget that there is such a thing in the world as a camera,” he mused. “He says he has not forgotten that advice, but he does not say that he has followed it. “I wonder what mischief the young dare-devil is up to?” he went on. “There must be something pretty good going on up there to make him ask for a longer vacation. He wasn’t at all keen on going away.” Then Paxton took his pen, and answered Hawley’s letter: “MY DEAR FRANK: By all means, take as long as you like. Things are pretty slow in town, and your presence here is not needed. But even if we did need you, I should hesitate to take you away from the ‘peace and quiet of the picturesque Catskills,’ since you appear to be deriving so much enjoyment and benefit from them.” It happened that the letter was never mailed. Paxton had inclosed it in an envelope, and was about to address it, when some important business matter claimed his attention. The missive was thrust into a pigeonhole of the managing editor’s desk, and it was not until several days later that Paxton came across it, and reproached himself for his carelessness. He was just putting a stamp on it, with the intention of sending it out to the mail chute, when an office boy entered the private office, and handed him a telegram: NIND “PAXTON, Managing Editor, New York _Sentinel_. “Frank Hawley, _Sentinel_ staff photographer, arrested here to-day. He is in a bad fix, and will surely go to jail for six months unless you can save him. Send help at once. RIGHT OLDHAM DAILY BULLETIN.” Paxton was a man of quick action. Without wasting any time trying to read between the lines of this laconic message, he grabbed the receiver from the telephone on his desk, and gave an order to the switchboard operator. “Get the Oldham _Bulletin_ on the long-distance wire immediately,” he commanded, “and let me talk to the managing editor.” Fred Carroll had been arrested and taken to police headquarters before this telephonic connection was made, but one of the _Bulletin’s_ staff spoke to Paxton over the wire, and gave him the details of the Camera Chap’s predicament. Then the managing editor of the _Sentinel_ did some more telephoning. “Call up Powers & Hands’ law office, and ask Mr. Hands to be kind enough to step over here and see me as soon as possible,” he said to the switchboard operator. “Tell him to be prepared to take a little trip out of town right away.” Powers & Hands was the firm which attended to all the _Sentinel’s_ legal business. They were one of the most prominent law firms in New York, and saved the _Sentinel_ thousands of dollars annually by squelching incipient libel suits brought against that newspaper, or successfully fighting in the courts those which could not be squelched.