o much for it. It will make the fortune of
the paper that publishes it. Let me see. I had it a moment ago, but the
point has escaped my memory. What was it you objected to as unnatural?"

"The tragedy. There is too much wholesale murder at the end."

"Ah! now I have it! Now I recollect!"

Gibberts began energetically to pace the room again, smiting his hands
together. His face was in a glow of excitement.

"Yes, I have it now. The tragedy. Granting a murder like that, one man
a dead shot, killing all the people in a country house; imagine it
actually taking place. Wouldn't all England ring with it?"

"Naturally."

"Of course it would. Now, you listen to me. I'm going to commit that
so-called crime. One week after you publish the story, I'm going down
to that country house, Channor Chase. It is my house, if there was
justice and right in England, and I'm going to slaughter every one in
it. I will leave a letter, saying the story in the _Sponge_ is the
true story of what led to the tragedy. Your paper in a week will be the
most-talked-of journal in England--in the world. It will leap
instantaneously into a circulation such as no weekly on earth ever
before attained. Look here, Shorely, that story is worth L50,000 rather
than L50, and if you don't buy it at once, some one else will. Now,
what do you say?"

"I say you are joking, or else, as I said just now, you are as mad as a
hatter."

"Admitting I am mad, will you take the story?"

"No, but I'll prevent you committing the crime."

"How?"

"By giving you in charge. By informing on you."

"You can't do it. Until such a crime is committed, no one would believe
it could be committed. You have no witnesses to our conversation here,
and I will deny every assertion you make. My word, at present, is as
good as yours. All you can do is to ruin your chance of fortune, which
knocks at every man's door. When I came in, you were wondering what you
could do to put the _Sponge_ on its feet. I saw it in your
attitude. Now, what do you say?"

"I'll give you L25 for the story on its own merits, although it is a
big price, and you need not commit the crime."

"Done! That is the sum I wanted, but I knew if I asked it, you would
offer me L12 10_s_. Will you publish it within the month?"

"Yes."

"Very well. Write out the cheque. Don't cross it. I've no bank
account."

When the cheque was handed to him, Gibberts thrust it into the ticket-
pocket of his ulster, turned ab