you want to work it," said Pinney, darkly.

Maxwell received the vaunt with a sneer. "You ought to be a
detective--in a novel." He buttered his toast and ate a little of it,
like a man of small appetite and invalid digestion.

"I suppose you've interviewed the family?" suggested Pinney.

"No," said Maxwell, gloomily, "there are some things that even a
space-man can't do."

"You ought to go back on a salary," said Pinney, with compassion and
superiority. "You'll ruin yourself trying to fill space, if you stick at
trifles."

"Such as going and asking a man's family whether they think he was burnt
up in a railroad accident, and trying to make copy out of their
emotions? Thank you, I prefer ruin. If that's your scoop, you're welcome
to it."

"They're not obliged to see you," urged Pinney. "You send in your name
and--"

"They shut the door in your face, if they have the presence of mind."

"Well! What do you care if they do? It's all in the way of business,
anyhow. It's not a personal thing."

"A snub's a pretty personal thing, Pinney. The reporter doesn't mind it,
but it makes the man's face burn."

"Oh, very well! If you're going to let uncleanly scruples like that
stand in your way, you'd better retire to the poet's corner, and stay
there. You can fill that much space, any way; but you are not built for
a reporter. When are you going to Boston?"

"Six, fifteen. I've got a scoop of my own."

"What is it?" asked Pinney, incredulously.

"Come round in the morning, and I'll tell you."

"Perhaps I'll go in with you, after all. I'll just step out into the
cold air, and see if I can harden my cheek for that interview. Your
diffidence is infectious, Maxwell."

XIV.

Pinney was really somewhat dashed by Maxwell's attitude, both because it
appealed to the more delicate and generous self, which he was obliged to
pocket so often in the course of business, and because it made him
suspect that Maxwell had already interviewed Northwick's family. They
would be forewarned, in that case, and would, of course, refuse to see
him. But he felt that as a space-man, with the privilege of filling all
the space he chose with this defalcation, his duty to his family
required him to use every means for making copy.

He encouraged himself by thinking of his wife, and what she was probably
doing at that moment in their flat in Boston, and he was feeling fairly
well when he asked for Miss Northwick at the door of the great