o plodded on through the lonely
streets striving to regain some fragment of the philosophy which had
deserted him so utterly.

CHAPTER VII

"IF PEOPLE ONLY _KNEW_!"

A little after three o'clock on the afternoon of the day which first saw
Judith Wynrod a newspaper proprietor, Good walked into the office of
_The Dispatch_ and asked to see Mr. Bassett, the managing editor.

"Will you be good enough to indicate the purpose of your visit on this
slip," said the old pensioner at the information desk.

Good took the pencil held out to him and in a bold hand wrote: "Mr. Good
wishes to see Mr. Bassett."

Cerberus smiled faintly, as if courtesy alone prevented him from totally
ignoring so feeble a jest. "That will hardly suffice, Mr. Good. We have
our rules, you know," he said firmly.

"Of course," admitted Good patiently. "But all rules have exceptions."

"We know none here, sir," said the old man pompously, while loungers in
the ante-room smiled their enjoyment of the scene.

"But, my dear man," cried Good in exasperation, "I don't want to write
him a letter. I want to talk to him. Will you take this in, or will I
have to take it myself?" He seemed so capable of carrying out the latter
alternative that after some further protestation the disgusted warder
disappeared into the private offices.

Almost immediately he reappeared, a faint but plainly triumphant smile
curling the corners of his lips.

"Mr. Bassett says--" he paused significantly. Then he added suavely, "He
regrets that he is very busy and is unable to see you."

Good smiled. "That's old stuff," he said placidly, with his hand on the
wicket. Without further parley he opened it and marched in.

A small man in his shirt sleeves, his thin lips grimly compressed, sat
at a desk piled high in disorderly confusion, chewing an unlighted
cigar. He did not look up as Good entered. But at the latter's
deprecating cough he wheeled around in his chair and glared savagely.

"How the hell did you get in here?" he demanded.

"Through the doorway," replied Good mildly.

"That door says 'private'--and I'm busy."

Good sat down and leisurely drawing his pipe from his pocket filled it.

"I suppose you didn't see that sign outside?" inquired the small man
sarcastically. "It said 'no smoking.'"

"That was outside," said Good shortly, without looking up. "I'm in now.
But look here, Mr. Bassett," he continued with a quizzical smile, "don't
irritate me. It ..."