"Off with your glad rags!"
"Anything good?" asked the managing editor.
"The lid has been jammed on tight. No wine in any restaurant after one o'clock. There'll be a roundup of every gunman in town."
"Good work! Go to it."
It was one o'clock when Norton turned in his last sheet of copy and started for home. Just outside the entrance to the building a man with a slouch hat drawn down over his eyes stepped forward.
"Mr. Norton?"
"Yes." Norton stepped back suspiciously.
The other chuckled, raised and lowered his hat swiftly.
"Good lord!" murmured the reporter.
"Will you take a ride with me in a taxi?"