are enthusiasm.
"Who on earth is he?"

Rawlinson shook his head.

"No idea. He came here like that--nearly fainted before my eyes--wanted
to write something in Austin's line--looked as though he could do it
too. I gave him half a sovereign to get something to eat, and told him
to come back. There he's been ever since--nearly three hours. What a
study for one of those lurid sketches of Forbes' as he sits now."

"I never read anything like it," the newcomer said. "He's a magnificent
find. How on earth did a man who can do work like that get into such a
state?"

Rawlinson shrugged his shoulders.

"Who can tell. Not drink, I should say. Laziness perhaps, or ill-luck.
I only know that to-night he has written his way on to the staff of this
paper."

The other man was watching Douglas as though fascinated.

"He has written his way into greater things," he murmured. "It makes
one feel like a hackneyed 'penny-a-liner' to read work like that."

"He's about done up," Rawlinson said. "Do you think I ought to stop
him?"

"Not likely. If there's such a thing in the world as inspiration he's
got it now. Don't miss a line. Let him write till he faints, but have
some one watch him and give him a stiff whiskey and soda directly he
stops."

"I shall stay myself," Rawlinson said. "It's an 'off' day to-morrow,
anyhow. Come and have a drink."

From behind and below came the roar of machinery, rolls of wet proofs
came flooding into the room at every moment. Now and then a hansom set
down a belated reporter, who passed swiftly in to his work, taking off
his coat as he went. Outside the sparrows began to chirp, dawn
lightened the sky, and strange gleams of light stole into the vast room.
Then suddenly from Douglas's desk came a sound.

Rawlinson rushed up too late to save him. Douglas had swayed for a
moment and then fallen over sideways. He lay upon the ground a huddled
heap, white and motionless.

They laid him flat upon his back, undid his clothing, and sent for a
doctor. A window a few yards away was thrown up and a rush of cold,
fresh air streamed into the room. But for all they could do Douglas
never moved, and his face was like the face of a dead man. Rawlinson
stood up, horribly anxious, and gave way to the doctor, who felt his
heart and looked grave. For an hour the pendulum swung backwards and
forwards between life and death. Then the doctor stood up with a sigh
of relief.

"He'll do now," he said; "but it was a na