“Yes, this morning or early this afternoon. We set it up and they are now running off——”
“But I sent you nothing, Mr. Brooke. You say they are running off the paper now?”
“Yes, of course. You said you wanted it the first thing in the morning.”
With a vague sense of apprehension that something was wrong and yet unable to say why, Jack went out into the printing office and picked up a newly printed sheet from a pile that lay in front of the press then being worked.
The sheet was not folded and several pages of the matter were visible at once.
Quickly glancing his eye over the sheet he suddenly came upon an article on the first page which had no business there.
It was not more than four or five lines in length and was a bitter and most scurrilous attack on Dr. Wise, signed “Jack Sheldon.”
“Stop the press,” cried Jack to the boy who was feeding the sheets. “Stop the press! This thing must not go in!”
“Hey?” shouted the boy.
“Stop the press!” cried Jack and in a moment he had thrown off the belt and the machine came to a standstill.