g Governor Arthur came to being boasted of in plain print."

Waldemar took his huge head in his hands and rocked it gently. "It's
on," he said. "And right-side-before. Yet, it tries to tell me that a
man, plotting to murder the governor, advertises the fact in my paper!
I'll get a new head."

"Keep that one for a while," advised Average Jones. "It may be better
than you think. Anyway, here's the ad. And down yonder is the dead man
whom it killed when he failed to kill it. So much is real."

"And here's Bendig," said the other, as the sporting editor entered.
"Any such horse as 'The Pharisee,' Bendig?"

"No, sir. I suppose you mean that Noble and Gale ad. I saw it in proof.
Some of Nick Karboe's funny work, I expect."

"Nick Karboe; N. K.," murmured Average Jones, laying a hand on the
abandoned field glass. "Who is this man Karboe, Mr. Bendig?"

"Junior partner of Noble and Gale. He puts out their advertising."

"Any connection whatever with Mr. Carroll Morrison?"

"Why, yes. Before he went to pieces he used to be Mr. Morrison's
confidential man, and lately he's been doing some lobbying for the
association. I understood he'd quit it again."

"Quit what?" asked Waldemar. "Drink?"

"Worse. The white stuff. Coke."

Average Jones whistled softly. "That explains it all," he said. "A
cocaine fiend on a debauch becomes a mental and moral imbecile. It would
be perfectly in character that he should boast of a projected crime."

"Very well," said Waldemar, after the sporting editor had left, "but you
don't really connect Morrison with this?"

"Don't I! At least I propose to try. See here, Waldemar; two months ago
at a private dinner, Morrison made a speech in which he said that men
who interfered with the rights of property, like Governor Arthur,
were no better than anarchists and ought to be handled accordingly.
Therefore, I don't think that a plan--a safe one, of course--to put
'Pharisee Phil' away would greatly disturb our friend's distorted
conscience. You see, the governor has laid impious hands on Morrison's
holy of holies, the dividend. By the way, where is Governor Arthur?"

"On the train for this city. He's to review the parade at the Harrisonia
Centennial, and unveil the statute to-morrow night; that is, to-night,
to be accurate."

"A good opportunity," murmured Average Jones.

"What! In the sight of a hundred thousand people?"

"That might be the very core of the opportunity. And at night."

"If you