ed his hand.

"Hush--hush!" he said imploringly. "Mr. Spargo means well, I am sure--I
am convinced. If Mr. Spargo will hear me----"

But before Spargo could reply, a loud insistent knocking came at the
outer door. Elphick started nervously, but presently he moved across
the room, walking as if he had received a blow, and opened the door. A
boy's voice penetrated into the sitting-room.

"If you please, sir, is Mr. Spargo, of the _Watchman_, here? He left
this address in case he was wanted."

Spargo recognized the voice as that of one of the office messenger
boys, and jumping up, went to the door.

"What is it, Rawlins?" he asked.

"Will you please come back to the office, sir, at once? There's Mr.
Rathbury there and says he must see you instantly."

"All right," answered Spargo. "I'm coming just now."

He motioned the lad away, and turned to Elphick.

"I shall have to go," he said. "I may be kept. Now, Mr. Elphick, can I
come to see you tomorrow morning?"

"Yes, yes, tomorrow morning!" replied Elphick eagerly. "Tomorrow
morning, certainly. At eleven--eleven o'clock. That will do?"

"I shall be here at eleven," said Spargo. "Eleven sharp."

He was moving away when Elphick caught him by the sleeve.

"A word--just a word!" he said. "You--you have not told the--the
boy--Ronald--of what you know? You haven't?"

"I haven't," replied Spargo.

Elphick tightened his grip on Spargo's sleeve. He looked into his face
beseechingly.

"Promise me--promise me, Mr. Spargo, that you won't tell him until you
have seen me in the morning!" he implored. "I beg you to promise me
this."

Spargo hesitated, considering matters.

"Very well--I promise," he said.

"And you won't print it?" continued Elphick, still clinging to him.
"Say you won't print it tonight?"

"I shall not print it tonight," answered Spargo. "That's certain."

Elphick released his grip on the young man's arm.

"Come--at eleven tomorrow morning," he said, and drew back and closed
the door.

Spargo ran quickly to the office and hurried up to his own room. And
there, calmly seated in an easy-chair, smoking a cigar, and reading an
evening newspaper, was Rathbury, unconcerned and outwardly as
imperturbable as ever. He greeted Spargo with a careless nod and a
smile.

"Well," he said, "how's things?"

Spargo, half-breathless, dropped into his desk-chair.

"You didn't come here to tell me that," he said.

Rathbury laughed.

"No," he said, throwing