ght have been taken for the liveried door-man
of a moving-picture theater or exclusive millinery shop.

In one hand he carried a very large black leather suit-case.

"Is this Mr. Bleak?" he asked politely.

"Yes," said the editor, in surprise. His secret surmise was that some
one had died and left him a legacy which would enable him to retire
from newspaper work. (This is the unacknowledged dream that haunts many
journalists.) Mr. Bleak was wondering whether this was the way in which
legacies were announced.

The man in the gray uniform set the bag down with great care on the
large flat desk. He drew out a key and unlocked it. Before opening it
he looked round the room. The city editor and three reporters were
watching curiously. A shy gayety twinkled in his clear blue eyes.

"Mr. Bleak," he said, "you and these other gentlemen present are men of
discretion--?"

Bleak made a gesture of reassurance.

The other leaned over the suit-case and lifted the lid.

The bag was divided into several compartments. In one, the startled
editor beheld a nest of tall glasses; in another, a number of
interesting flasks lying in a porcelain container among chipped ice. In
the lid was an array of straws, napkins, a flat tray labeled CLOVES,
and a bunch of what looked uncommonly like mint leaves. Mr. Bleak did
not speak, but his pulse was disorderly.

The man in gray drew out five tumblers and placed them on the desk.
Rapidly several bottles caught the light: there was a gesture of
pouring, a clink of ice, and beneath the spellbound gaze of the
watchers the glasses fumed and bubbled with a volatile potion. A glass
mixing rod tinkled in the thin crystal shells, and the man of mystery
deftly thrust a clump of foliage into each. A well known fragrance
exhaled upon the tobacco-thickened air.

"Shades of the Grail!" cried Bleak. "Mint julep!"

The visitor bowed and pushed the glasses forward. "With the compliments
of the Corporation," he said.

The city editor sprang to his feet. Sagely cynical, he suspected a ruse.

"It's a plant!" he exclaimed. "Don't touch it! It's a trick on the part
of the Department of Justice, trying to get us into trouble."

Bleak gazed angrily at the stranger. If this was indeed a federal
stratagem, what an intolerably cruel one! In front of him the glasses
sparkled alluringly: a delicate mist gathered on their ice-chilled
curves: a pungent sweetness wavered in his nostrils.

"See here!" he blurted wit