ss gave out the report in little 'takes' of
about fifty words each. That was because it must be kept secret. Fifty
printers set it up; then the boss locked the galleys in the strong room.
No one except the boss himself had had a glimpse of it. Of course, that
made me the more eager to nail it; anything a fellow wants to hide is
bound to be big news, d'ye see. Now I'm the man who takes the proofs,
and this morning the boss tells me that Senator Hanway wants a copy--one
proof, no more. The boss goes to the strong room and brings the galleys
to the proof-press. I'm ready for him; I've dampened two sheets of
proof-paper and pasted them together. I spread both of them on the
types. After I've sent the roller over them, I peel the sheets apart and
throw the white one, the one that was on top, on the floor. The bottom
one that has the ink-impression on it I pass to the boss. He sees me
peel the top sheet off, and it rouses his suspicions.

"'What's that for?' he asks.

"I'm filling my pipe as calm as duck-ponds, and explain that the
proof-press in which the galley lies is too deep. It takes two
thicknesses to force the sheet down on the face of the types and get a
good impression. The boss is only a politician, not a printer, so this
explanation does him. While he's locking up the galleys again, I get
away with these. You see, with two thicknesses of paper, the types cut
through; it makes a stencil of it. With a little light behind, the
stencil shows up as well as a regular proof. After I'd got organized, I
took a day off, clapped a 'sub' on my stool, and headed for you. As I've
said, it struck me like a big piece of news."

"It's bigger than you know, Mr. Sands," observed Richard, giving that
worthy's hand a squeeze that made him flinch. "If you don't mind, I'll
not use it as news. You will not mention the fact, but there's a deal on
in Wall Street; I can do better with it there. I cannot thank you too
much for what you've done."

Mr. Sands was pleased, and departed for the nearest rum counter, his
face expressing complacency. He had partly evened up, he said, for what
Richard did the night that he, Mr. Sands, became entangled with the
Hottentots. He, Mr. Sands, would lie in ambush for further scoops; he
could promise Richard everything in the Government printing office which
any statesman was trying to conceal.

Richard drew his desk before the window and, reading the stencils line
by line, made a perfect copy. As his p