"When does Bob get down here?"
Mike looked at the clock in the corner before answering.
"It'll be ten minutes," he said, "or maybe twenty, before the boy does be here to-day, seein' it's Monday mornin', an' he'll be tired with not workin' of Sunday."
"Ten minutes," repeated Paul, slowly. After a moment's thought he continued, "Then I'll have to ask you to go out for me, Mike."
"I can go anywhere ye want, Mister Paul," the porter responded.
"I want you to go——" began Paul, "I want you to go——" and he hesitated, as though he was not quite sure what it was he wished the porter to do, "I want you to go to the office of the Gotham Gazette and get me two copies of yesterday's paper. Do you understand?"
"Maybe they won't be open so early in the mornin'," said the Irishman.
"That's no matter," said Paul, hastily correcting himself; "I mean that I want you to go there now and get the papers if you can. Of course, if the office isn't open I shall have to send again later."
"I'll be goin' now, Mister Paul," and Mike took his hat from a chair and started off at once.
Paul walked through the store with the porter. When Mike had gone the young man locked the front door and returned at once to the private office in the rear. He shut himself in, and lowered all the shades so that whatever he might do inside could not be seen by any one on the outside.