Summary

Portrait of George Allan England George Allan England The Unwritten Story — The Unwritten Story… (1926)

Locomotive bell and coughing exhaust were music to Wyatt as the heavy train tooled into motion. At a car window he caught one glimpse of a panic-smitten face—a face with the unseeing eyes of fear, with a red mustache that blazed against a leaden pallor. Then Maximilian Veazie was flicked forever from his life.
“Well, there goes my one big scoop!” said Wyatt, a bit grimly. “There'll never be another one like that for me!”
But then he laughed—laughed in the knowledge that any loss for the sake of love is golden gain.
Source: Wikisource

Portrait of George Allan England George Allan England The Unwritten Story — The Unwritten Story… (1926)

If Thoreau is right in saying that the whole life of a man may be referred to a few deep experiences, this moment in Wyatt's life was crucial.
“Now for Veazie!”
Wyatt's thought centered on this last remaining peril. Were Veazie to be rounded up and made to talk—but Wyatt refused to dwell on what the newspapers would do then.
“God! If only Veazie's home—if only I can catch him!”
Forgotten now were all Wyatt's professional instincts. His story of all stories, the “scoop” that would have set his name on pinnacles of newspaper achievement—down it had crashed to ruin.
Source: Wikisource

Portrait of George Allan England George Allan England The Unwritten Story — The Unwritten Story… (1926)

The professor, in bath robe and slippers, became dimly visible down the hallway. “Who's breaking into my—”
“Veazie, you old crook!” Wyatt flung, his anger rising like the tides of Fundy. “You've got about ten minutes to get out, before Boston gets too damned hot for you! Understand?”
“Wha—what?” the professor stammered, paling.
“Lockwood's been murdered—stabbed to death in his library. You'd better buy a ticket a mile long, and keep going!”
Source: Wikisource

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