ow, Mr. Hale," he
added, "come on. Let's get along. You can tell me on the way."

Still rapt with his vision the minister rose, and permitted himself to
be guided to the carriage. Once inside he fell into a semi-stupor. Only
at the hospital, where Dr. Merritt was waiting to see him safe within
the isolation ward, did he come to his rightful senses, cool, and, as
ever, thoughtful of everything but himself.

"You've got your chance for a diagnosis at last, Doctor," he whispered
to the health officer.

Half an hour later, Dr. Merritt came out to the waiting journalist.

"Typhus," he said, with grievous exultation. "Unmistakably and
officially typhus. We've got our case. Only, I wish to God it had been
any of the rest of us."

"Will he die?" queried Ellis.

"God knows. I should say his chance was worse than even. He's worn out
from overwork."

For assurance, Dr. Elliot was sent for and added his diagnosis. Ellis
got authoritative interviews with both men, and the "Clarion's" great,
potential sensation was now fully ripe for print. Denton the reporter
had done the previous work well. His "story," leaded out and with
subheads, ran flush to two pages of the paper, and every paragraph of it
struck fire. It would, as Ellis said, set off a ton of dynamite beneath
sleepy Worthington. That night Veltman "pulled" a proof, and Ellis
stayed far into the morning, pasting up a dummy of the article for Hal's
inspection and final judgment.

It was on Thursday that Norman Hale was taken to the hospital. Friday
noon McGuire Ellis laid before his principal the carefully constructed
dummy with the brief comment:

"There's the epidemic story."

Hal accepted and read it in silence. Once or twice he made a note. When
he had finished, he turned to find Ellis's gaze fixed upon him.

"We ought to run it Monday," said Ellis. "We can round it all up by
then."

Monday is the dead day of journalism, the day for which news articles
which do not demand instant production are reserved, both to liven up a
dull paper and because the sensation produced is greater. However, the
sensation inevitable to the publishing of this article, as Hal instantly
realized, would be enormous on any day.

"It's big stuff," said he, with a long breath.

Ellis nodded. "Shall I release it for Monday?"

"N-n-no," came the dubious reply.

"It's been held already for ten days."

"Then what does it matter if we hold it a little longer?"

"Human lives, maybe.