u'll write the meeting?"

"Yes."

"Save out a column for my story."

Ellis returned to Wayne at the news desk. "Hell's broke loose at the
Emergency Health meeting," he remarked, employing the conventional
phrasing of his craft.

And Wayne, in the same language, inquired:

"How much?"

"Two columns. And a column from the Boss on another story."

"Whew!" whistled Wayne. "We _shall_ have some paper."

From midnight until 2.30 in the morning the reporters on the great story
dribbled in. Each, as he arrived, said a brief word to Wayne, got a curt
direction, slumped into his seat, and silently wrote. It was all very
methodical and quiet and orderly. A really big news event always is
after the first disturbance of adjustment. Newspaper offices work
smoothest when the tension is highest.

At 12.03 A.M. Bim received two flurried Aldermen and the head of a city
department. At 12.35 he held spirited debate with the Deputy
Commissioner of Health. Just as the clock struck one, two advertising
managers, arriving neck and neck, merged their appeals in an ineffectual
attempt to obtain information from the youthful Cerberus, which he
loftily declined to furnish, as to the whereabouts of anyone with power
to ban or bind, on the "Clarion." At 1.30 the Guardian of the Gate had
the honor and pleasure of meeting, for the first time, his Honor the
Mayor of the City. Finally, at 1.59 he "took a chance," as he would have
put it, and, misliking the autocratic deportment of a messenger from
E.M. Pierce, told that emissary that he could tell Mr. Pierce exactly
where to go to--and go there himself. All the while, unmoved amidst
protestation, appeal, and threat, the steady news-machine went on
grinding out unsuppressible history for itself and its city.

Sharp to the regular hour, the presses clanged, and the building
thrilled through its every joint to the pulse of print. Hal Surtaine
rose from his desk and walked to the window. McGuire Ellis also rose,
walked over and stood near him.

"Three pretty big beats to-morrow," he said awkwardly, at length.

"The Milly Neal story won't be a beat," replied Hal.

"No? How's that?"

"I've sent our proofs to all the other papers."

"Well, I'm--What's the idea?

"We lied to them about the story in the first instance. They played
fair, according to the rules, and took our lie. We can't beat 'em on our
own story, now."

"Right you are. Bet none of 'em prints it, though." Wherein he was a
t