art
it, for their own ends and interests, and this news is seldom the
kind the papers want. The other class consists of persons who are
determined that they will give no information to the representatives
of the press. This class usually has the very news that the papers
want, and the journals strive all the more eagerly to get it, from
the very fact that there is a desire to hold it from them. Both
classes must be approached in ways best suited to them; the one
that they may not take up a reporter's valuable time with a lot of
useless talk, and the other that they may be tricked into giving out
that which they are determined to keep back. It was to the latter
class that Larry was going that morning. On his way up he was
turning over in his mind the best means of getting what he wanted.

"Some butler or private secretary will come to the door," he
reasoned. "I've got to get in to see a member of the family. There's
only Mrs. Potter and her daughter Grace," for, in common with other
rich men and those in the public eye, Mr. Potter's family affairs
were, in a measure, public property to the New York newspaper world.

As Larry had surmised, his ring at the door was answered by a
stately butler.

"I wish to see Mr. Potter," said the reporter, venturing on a bold
stroke. He had learned several tricks of the trade.

"Mr. Potter is not home," and the door was about to close.

"Will you take a message to Mrs. Potter?" asked Larry quickly.

The door was opened a little.

"What name?" and the butler did not relax his severity.

"It doesn't matter what name. Tell her I have called in reference to
Mr. Potter's absence."

"Come in!" the butler exclaimed quickly.

Larry had gained his first skirmish, in a manner perfectly
legitimate, regarded from a newspaper standpoint. He had called in
reference to Mr. Potter's disappearance--not to give information (as
the butler may have supposed), but to get it.

"This way," said the man. "Mrs. Potter is in the library."

Larry entered through the velvet portieres the butler held aside for
him. He saw, reclining on a couch, a handsome woman, whose face
showed traces of tears. Beside her stood the most beautiful girl
Larry had ever seen. She had brown eyes, brown hair, and a face
that, though it was sad, made Larry think of some wonderful
painting.

"Some one with news of Mr. Potter," the butler announced.

"Oh! Have you come to tell me of my husband?" the lady exclaimed,
sitti