ned to-day."

They whirled about upon Manning, who continued unperturbed in his
chair.

"What she says is straight, gentlemen," he said. "I have only been
acting for Miss West."

A horrible curse fell from the thick, loose lips of Blind Charlie
Peck. Blake, his sickly pallor deepening, stared from Manning to
Katherine.

"It isn't so! It can't be so!" he breathed wildly.

"If you want to see just what I've got, here it is," said Katherine,
and she tossed the bundle of proofs upon the desk.

Blake seized the sheets in feverish hands. Blind Charlie stepped to
his side, and Mr. Brown slipped forward out of his corner and peered
over their shoulders. First they saw the two facsimiles, then their
eyes swept in the leading points of Billy Harper's fiery story. Then a
low cry escaped from Blake. He had come upon Billy Harper's great
page-wide headline:

"BLAKE CONSPIRES TO SWINDLE WESTVILLE;
DIRECT CAUSE OF CITY'S SICK AND DEAD."

At that Blake collapsed into his chair and gazed with ashen face at
the black, accusing letters. This relentless summary of the situation
appalled them all into a moment's silence.

Blind Charlie was the first to speak.

"That paper must never come out!" he shouted.

Blake raised his gray-hued face.

"How are you going to stop it?"

"Here's how," cried Peck, his one eye ablaze with fierce energy. "That
crowd at the Square is still all for you, Blake. Don't let the girl
out of the house! I'll rush to the Square, rouse the mob properly, and
they'll raid the office, rip up the presses, plates, paper, every
damned thing!"

"No--no--I'll not stand for that!" Blake burst out.

But Blind Charlie had already started quickly away. Not so quickly,
however, but that the very sufficient hand of Manning was about his
wrist before he reached the door.

"I guess we won't be doing that to-night, Mr. Peck," Manning said
quietly.

The old politician stood shaking with rage and erupting profanity. But
presently this subsided, and he stood, as did the others, gazing down
at Blake. Blake sat in his chair, silent, motionless, with scarcely a
breath, his eyes fixed on the headline. His look was as ghastly as a
dead man's, a look of utter ruin, of ruin so terrible and complete
that his dazed mind could hardly comprehend it.

There was a space of profound silence in the room. But after a time
Blind Charlie's face grew malignantly, revengefully jocose.

"Well, Blake," said he, "I guess this