listen to you!"

He paused abruptly before her, and, eyes half-closed, stared
piercingly into her face. As she returned his stare, it began to dawn
upon her that he did not seem much taken aback. At least his guilt
bore no near likeness to that of Mr. Blake.

Suddenly he made a lunge for the door, jerked it open, and his voice
descended the stairway, out-thundering the press.

"Jake! Oh, Jake!"

A lesser roar ascended:

"Yes!"

"Stop the press! Rip open the forms! Get the men at the linotypes! And
be alive down there, every damned soul of you! And you, Billy Harper,
I'll want you here in two minutes!"

He slammed the door, and turned on Katherine. She had looked upon
excitement before, but never such excitement as was flaming in his
face.

"Now give me all the details!" he cried.

She it was that was taken aback.

"I--I don't understand," she said.

"No time to explain now. Looks like I've been all wrong about your
father--perhaps a little wrong about you--and perhaps you've been a
little wrong about me. Let it go at that. Now for the details. Quick!"

"But--but what are you going to do?"

"Going to get out an extra! It's the hottest story that ever came down
the pike! It'll make the _Express_, and"--he seized her hand in his
grimy ones, his eyes blazed, and an exultant laugh leaped from his
deep chest--"and we'll simply rip this old town wide open!"

Katherine stared at him in bewilderment.

"Oh, won't this wake the old town up!" he murmured to himself.

He dropped into his chair, jerked some loose copy paper toward him,
and seized a pencil.

"Now quick! The details!"

"You mean--you are going to print this?" she stammered.

"Didn't I say so!" he answered sharply.

"Then you really had nothing to do with Mr. Blake's----"

"Oh, hell! I beg pardon. But this is no time for explanations. Come,
come"--he rapped his desk with his knuckles--"don't you know what
getting out an extra is? Every second is worth half your lifetime. Out
with the story!"

Katherine sank rather weakly into her chair, beginning to see new
things in this face she had so lately loathed.

"The fact of the matter is," she confessed, "I guess I stated my
information a little more definitely than it really is."

"You mean you haven't the facts?"

"I'm afraid not. Not yet."

"Nothing definite I could hinge a story on?"

She shook her head. "I didn't come prepared for--for things to take
this turn. It would spoil everythin