ams. Hurry!" Mr.
Silver darted from the room.

The great journalist was a tall, strong, clever Irishman of fifty, swart
and black-mustached, a man of untiring business energy, well known in
the world, which he understood very thoroughly, and played upon with the
half-cynical competence of his race. Yet was he without a touch of the
charlatan: he made no mysteries, and no pretenses of knowledge, and he
saw instantly through these in others. In his handsome, well-bred,
well-dressed appearance there was something a little sinister when anger
or intense occupation put its imprint about his eyes and brow; but when
his generous nature was under no restraint he was the most cordial of
men. He was managing director of the company which owned that most
powerful morning paper, the _Record_, and also that most indispensable
evening paper, the _Sun_, which had its offices on the other side of the
street. He was moreover editor-in-chief of the _Record_, to which he had
in the course of years attached the most variously capable personnel in
the country. It was a maxim of his that where you could not get gifts,
you must do the best you could with solid merit; and he employed a great
deal of both. He was respected by his staff as few are respected in a
profession not favorable to the growth of the sentiment of reverence.

"You're sure that's all?" asked Sir James, after a few minutes of
earnest listening and questioning. "And how long has this been
known?... Yes, of course, the police are; but the servants? Surely
it's all over the place down there by now.... Well, we'll have a
try.... Look here, Bunner, I'm infinitely obliged to you about this.
I owe you a good turn. You know I mean what I say. Come and see me the
first day you get to town.... All right, that's understood. Now I must
act on your news. Good-by."

Sir James hung up the receiver, and seized a railway time-table from the
rack before him. After a rapid consultation of this oracle, he flung it
down with a forcible word as Mr. Silver hurried into the room, followed
by a hard-featured man with spectacles, and a youth with an alert eye.

"I want you to jot down some facts, Figgis," said Sir James, banishing
all signs of agitation and speaking with a rapid calmness. "When you
have them, put them into shape just as quick you can for a special
edition of the _Sun_." The hard-featured man nodded and glanced at the
clock, which pointed to a few minutes past three; he pulled out