ADELAIDE.

You would have to go about it the right way. You know how crafty he
is.

KORB.

Oh, I'll get round him all right. I'll find some way.

ADELAIDE.

Go, dear Korb! [_Exit_ KORB.] Those were sad tidings with which the
Colonel met me. Conrad--immoral, unworthy? It is impossible! A noble
character cannot change to that extent. I do not believe one word of
what they say!

[_EXIT_.]

SCENE II

_Editorial room of the "Union." Doors in the centre and on both sides.
On the left, in the foreground, a desk with newspapers and documents.
On the right, a similar, smaller table. Chairs._

_Enter_ BOLZ, _through the side door on the right, then_ MILLER
_through the centre door._

BOLZ (_eagerly_).

Miller! Factotum! Where is the mail?

MILLER (_nimbly with a package of letters and newspapers_).

Here is the mail, Mr. Bolz; and here, from the press, is the
proof-sheet of this evening's issue to be corrected.

BOLZ (_at the table on the left quickly opening, looking through, and
marking letters with a pencil_).

I have already corrected the proof, old rascal!

MILLER.

Not quite. Down here is still the "Miscellaneous" which Mr. Bellmaus
gave the type-setters.

BOLZ.

Let us have it!

[_Reads in the newspaper._]

"Washing stolen from the yard"--"Triplets
born"--"Concert"--"Concert"--"Meeting of an
Association"--"Theatre"--all in order--"Newly invented engine"--"The
great sea-serpent spied."

[_Jumping up._]

What the deuce is this? Is he bringing up the old sea-serpent again?
It ought to be cooked into a jelly for him, and he be made to eat it
cold.

[_Hurries to the door on the right._]

Bellmaus, monster, come out!

_Enter_ BELLMAUS.

BELLMAUS (_from the right, pen in hand_).

What is the matter! Why all this noise?

BOLZ (_solemnly_).

Bellmaus, when we did you the honor of intrusting you with the odds
and ends for this newspaper, we never expected you to bring the
everlasting great sea-serpent writhing through the columns of our
journal!--How could you put in that worn-out old lie?

BELLMAUS.

It just fitted. There were exactly six lines left.

BOLZ.

That is an excuse, but not a good one. Invent your own stories. What
are you a journalist for? Make a little "Communication," an
observation, for instance, on human life in general, or something
about dogs running around loose in the streets; or choose a
bloodcurdling story such as a murder out of politeness, or how a