“Well?”
“Then the sooner he comes the better,” I said.
“We must know the news, even if we make concessions to learn it.”
“I guess my news will surprise him as much as his will us.”
And we were both laughing happily, despite the ominous turn in things, when Siegel came running up and bundled his wraps into the carriage, as I introduced him to Helga.
Chapter XXIII—AT THE FRONTIER
FRANK SIEGEL was one of those enthusiastic journalists to whose zeal the press of America owes its distinctive position. Enterprise, unhampered by too much discretion, was the gospel which had been hammered into him. Be first, down the other fellow, make the scoop, get the facts, discreetly if possible, but get them, serve hot for the public taste, and let all else go hang. The editor and the public will forgive anything except a beat for the opposition show.
Siegel lived up to this. All the world and everything in it was to him so much copy; and he looked at everything with an eye, and that a very sharp one, for its newspaper possibilities.