ses and soft words of
assurance he soothed her until her dismay left her. At dinner, which had
been waiting for him, he told her everything that had occurred since he
left her twenty-four hours past. At the end of his story he explained to
her what it would all mean to him.

"The 'chief,' that is Mr. Phillips, our publisher, has promised me a
contract at double what I'm getting now," he told her. "And, besides, he
says Brennan and I are entitled to a bonus for what we've done. It
means, mother, dearest, that I've made good; that I've arrived as a
newspaper man."

"You know how proud I am of you, John," Mrs. Gallant said. "I never
imagined that newspaper work was so strenuous. I thought a reporter's
work was writing news instead of making it."

"Newspapers, I have learned, mother, are vigilant guards of the
interests of the people," he said. "It is a newspaper's duty to inform
the public of what occurs and to prevent as well as condemn wrong. Mr.
Phillips told us that the unmasking of Gibson was newspaper enterprise
by which the city as well as the paper benefited. Thousands of things
not as conspicuous as this are done every year by a newspaper and its
reporters and editors.

"Without publicity wrong would go undetected and unpunished. Think of
what would have happened if Gibson had been elected mayor of Los
Angeles. For at least four years 'Gink' Cummings would have ruled the
city and you can imagine what that would have meant."

They were about to leave the supper table when Mrs. Sprockett, weeping
hysterically, appeared in a state of excitement that alarmed them.
Wringing her hands, sobbing distractedly, she flung herself into a chair
and moaned in such a way that Mrs. Gallant hurried to her side
anxiously.

"My Alma! My Alma! My girl!" Mrs. Sprockett wept.

"What is it? Tell us. Can we help?" asked Mrs. Gallant while John had a
momentary apprehension that Mrs. Sprockett's condition might be the
result of a discovery that her daughter had visited the corner motion
picture theater surreptitiously.

"She's gone," Mrs. Sprockett gasped.

"Gone?" Mrs. Gallant exclaimed.

"Gone," Mrs. Sprockett repeated, and then, with a sob of despair, she
added, "Kidnaped!"

"You mean she has disappeared?" asked John, feeling that her fear that
Alma had been abducted might be far-fetched.

"She has been gone since morning," continued Mrs. Sprockett, a little
calmed by the sound of a masculine voice. "Ever since morning.