News for to-morrow's breakfast table! intellectual stimulant for the weary people who are even now kicking off their shoes with a sleepy yawn and wondering whether there will be anything in the paper to-morrow.
A boy came flying through the swing door of the tape-room, carrying in his hand a slip of paper.
He laid it before the chief sub.
That restless man looked at it, then looked at the clock.
"Take it to Mr. Greene," he said shortly, and reached for the speaking-tube that connected him with the printer.
"There will be a three-column splash on page five," he said in a matter-of-fact voice.
"What's up?" His startled assistant was on his feet.
"A man found murdered in T. B. Smith's chambers," he said.
* * * * * * *
The inquest was over, the stuffy little court discharged its morbid public, jurymen gathered in little knots on the pavement permitted themselves to theorise, feeling, perhaps, that the official verdict of "murder against some person or persons unknown" needed amplification.