"Do I disturb you, father?" she asked, stepping lightly into the room.
"No, Agnes," replied Murdock courteously; "as you see, I am indulging in a period of dolce far niente."
The young girl laughed a clear, silvery laugh, as her eyes fell upon the pile of newspapers.
"If the reading of a dozen newspapers is dolce far niente, I should think you would welcome hard work as a pleasant change."
"Oh!" replied her father, "the work I have done on those has not amounted to much. I have only been gleaning the news from the morning papers.
"Yes," he added, answering her surprised look, "it takes a deal of skim milk to yield a little cream."
The last paper which Murdock had been examining lay upon the desk before him. From the closely printed columns stood out in bold relief the glaring headlines:
MURDER IN A CAB.
MYSTERIOUS ASSASSINATION OF AN UNKNOWN MAN, IN BROAD DAYLIGHT.
CABMAN REILLY DENIES ALL KNOWLEDGE OF THE CRIME.