rd to Doc Weaver,
nor to anyone about them. Not a word. I have kept it as sacred as the
secret of the Man in the Iron Mask, a full account of whom, together
with a wood cut, is given on page 231, together with 'All the World's
Famous Mysteries,' this being but one feature of Jarby's----"

"All right," said the editor. "And you never told him about the graft?"

The blank amazement on the book agent's face was sufficient answer.

"I've got to go out," said the editor. "I've got some reporting to do.
You'll excuse me. I want to see Stitz. And Skinner. And Guthrie. I wish
Doc hadn't gone to his State Medical Society meeting to-day."

Eliph' went out with the editor, who locked the door behind him.

"Don't say anything," said the editor, "but I think there will be an
extra edition of the TIMES out to-morrow."

CHAPTER XV. Difficulties

Eliph' had said nothing to Doc Weaver about the affair of the
fire-extinguishers, he had known nothing of the graft matter, and yet
it could not be supposed that Doc Weaver could be a confidant of the
attorney's. The editor was puzzled, but he was sure he was right in
the main, and he was nearer learning the truth than he supposed, as he
hurried down the street to the mayor's car-cobbler shop.

He opened the door and stepped inside, but the mayor did not look up
with his usual smile; he was sulking, and from time to time he rubbed
his head where the butcher had struck him.

"How do, Stitz," said the editor. "How's the mayor?"

The cobbler pulled his waxed threads angrily through a tough bit of
leather, and did not look up.

"I am no more a mayor," he said crossly. "I am out of that mayor job. I
give him up. I haf been insulted."

"I saw it," the editor assured him. "He gave you a good whack.
Sounded like a wet plank falling on a marble slab. Mad about the
fire-extinguishers business, wasn't he?"

"And why?" asked the mayor, looking up for the first time, "he has a
right to obey those ordinances and not get mad."

"Oh, but he don't like the way folks will laugh at him when they learn
the joke you have played on him. That was a good one."

"Joke?" queried the mayor, growing brighter. "Did I play him one joke?"

"You know," said T. J. "Making him buy those lung-testers of Miss
Briggs' when he thought they were fire-extinguishers. I should say it
WAS a joke!"

"Sit down," said the mayor; "don't hang on those straps when seats is
enough and plenty. Sit down. So I joked him