y. Bishop Chuff is greatly annoyed at the
persistent use of the printing press to issue clandestine vinous
recipes. He solemnly threatens, if this continues, to abolish the
printing press. This is to be the Twentieth Amendment. No printing
press shall be used in the territory of the United States. Any man
found with a printing press concealed about his person shall be
sentenced to life imprisonment. Even the Congressional Record is to be
written entirely by hand."

The editor was unable to speak. He reached for the decanter, but found
it empty.

"Very well then," said Quimbleton. "The facts are before you. I suppose
The Evening Balloon has made its customary enterprising preparations to
report the big parade?"

"Why, yes," said Bleak. "Three photographers and three of our most
brilliant reporters have been assigned to cover the event. One of the
stories, dealing with pathetic incidents of the procession, has already
been written--cases of women swooning in the vast throng, and so on.
The Balloon is always first," he added, by force of habit.

"I want you to discard all your plans for describing the parade," said
Quimbleton. "I am about to give you the greatest scoop in the history
of journalism. The procession will break up in confusion. All that will
be necessary to say can be said in half a dozen lines, which I will
give you now. I suggest that you print them on your front page in the
largest possible type."

From his pocket he took a sheet of paper, neatly folded, and handed it
across the table.

"What on earth do you mean?" asked Bleak. "How can you know what will
happen?"

"The Corporation has spoken," said his host. "Let us go indoors, where
you can read what I have written."

In a small handsomely appointed library Bleak opened the paper. It was
a sheet of official stationery and read as follows:--

THE CORPORATION FOR THE PERPETUATION OF HAPPINESS

Cable Address: Hapcorp

Virgil Quimbleton, Associate Director

1316 Caraway Street

Owing to the intoxication of Bishop Chuff, the projected parade of the
Pan-Antis broke up in confusion. Federal Home for Inebriates at Cana,
N.J., reopened after two years' vacation.

"Is this straight stuff?" asked Bleak tremulously.

"My right hand upon it," cried Quimbleton, tearing off his beard in his
earnestness.

"Then good-night!" said Bleak. "I must get back to the office."

CHAPTER III

INCIDENT OF THE GOOSEBERRY BOMBS

The day of th