is plot he outlined in all its details. He told of Doctor Sherman's
part, at Blake's compulsion. He told of the secret league between
Blake and Peck. He declared the truth of the charges for which Bruce
was then lying in the county jail. And finally--though this he did at
the beginning of his story--he drove home in his most nerve-twanging
words the fact that Blake the benefactor, Blake the applauded, was the
direct cause of the typhoid epidemic.

As a fresh sheet was being run into the machine toward the end of the
story there was another tremendous outburst from the Square,
surpassing even the one of half an hour before.

"Blake's just finished his speech," called Old Hosie from the window.
"The crowd wants to carry him on their shoulders."

"They'd better hurry up; this is one of their last chances!" cried
Billy.

Then he saw the foreman enter with a look of concern. "Any thing
wrong, Jake?"

"One of the linotype men has skipped out," was the answer.

"Well, what of that?" said Harper. "You've got one left."

"It means that we'll be delayed in getting out the paper. I hadn't
noticed it before, but Grant's been gone some time. We're quite a bit
behind you, and Simmons alone can't begin to handle that copy as fast
as you're sending it down."

"Do the best you can," said Billy.

He started at the dictation again. Then he broke off and called
sharply to the foreman:

"Hold on, Jake. D'you suppose Grant slipped out to give the story
away?"

"I don't know. But Grant was a Blake man."

Billy swore under his breath.

"But he hadn't seen the best part of the story," said the foreman.
"I'd given him only that part about Blake and Peck."

"Well, anyhow, it's too late for him to hurt us any," said Billy, and
once more plunged into the dictation.

Fifteen minutes later the story was finished, and Katherine leaned
back in her chair with aching arms, while Billy wrote a lurid headline
across the entire front page. With this he rushed down into the
composing-room to give orders about the make-up. When he returned he
carried a bunch of long strips.

"These are the proofs of the whole thing, documents and all, except
the last part of the story," he said. "Let's see if they've got it all
straight."

He laid the proofs on Katherine's desk and was drawing a chair up
beside her, when the telephone rang.

"Who can want to talk to us at such an hour?" he impatiently
exclaimed, taking up the receiver.

"Hello! Who'