"Wait and see," replied the journalist, as he strolled out of the club.
"Hi, Marchmont, I've got a detail for you!" called the editor, making the last correction on a belated form and attempting to revivify a cigar that had long gone out.
"Yes?" queried Marchmont, slipping off his coat and slipping on a pair of straw cuffs, which was the chief reason why he always sported immaculate linen.
"We're on the track of a big thing. Perhaps you don't know that the President has delivered an ultimatum, and that our Minister at Madrid has received his passports?"
"Saw it on the bulletin-board as I came in," said his subordinate laconically.
"Well, it's a foregone conclusion that the Spanish Legation will establish a secret service in this country, and the paper that shows it up will achieve the biggest scoop on record."
"Naturally. But what then?"
"Why, I give the detail to you. You don't seem to appreciate the situation, man. It's the chance of a lifetime."
"Quite so," replied Marchmont, lighting a cigarette.