For the next hour Micky listened to a recital that filled him with gaping amazement at a revelation of municipal iniquity, spreading to the State-house and even beyond, that was undreamed of by the general public. It thrilled him with the lust to secure as big, pulsing, astounding chapters in a vital news story as were ever written. At the close, and when some talk had been devoted to his plan of procedure, Slade arose to depart. "I've got some friends, in a quiet place, that won't give me away," he announced.
Micky accompanied him to the front door. "Good night, Santa Claus," he said, with twinkling eyes, and Slade, somewhat mystified, unobtrusively departed.
CHAPTER XVI
HIS BETTER SIDE
WHEN he had seen Slade safely off, Micky returned to the office and reported to Harkins, receiving a late assignment of a night police story which they desired "fixed up" in the style which was peculiarly O'Byrn's own. He contented himself just now with telling Harkins that he had been after something which promised well, but "wasn't ripe enough yet to spring." He felt that the thing was so surprisingly big that it would be better not to mention it officially till he could be sure of being able to secure it. Slade's narrative had opened up thrilling possibilities; it remained for O'Byrn to secure the proofs before he could venture to say anything, much less to write a single line. This would take hard work and subtlety, but Micky looked forward confidently to the prospect of scoring the most brilliant _coup_ in the history of newspaperdom in that town.
It would have to be done quickly, too, for the time was growing short. The Courier, and the papers which united with it in the support of Fusion, were pounding away on a forlorn hope, thanks to Shaughnessy's masterly checkmate. They were confined to inveighing against the past; which was black enough, to be sure. But the Democracy, having apparently reformed from within, was evidently preparing for a regenerated future. This called back many who had been temporarily alienated, and Fusion's chances daily grew slimmer. If the proof could be adduced for Slade's revelations, O'Byrn knew that a very simoon of public wrath would at the eleventh hour sweep over Shaughnessy and his crew. His eyes sparkled. The simoon should be forthcoming.
His work kept him late, and the gray dawn was breaking when he walked wearily back to his lodgings and tumbled into bed. It was long ere he could sleep, for the glittering possibilities of that story whirled through his brain. At last, however, he fell into slumber that was disturbed by dreams in which he engaged continuously in fantastic warfare with Shaughnessy, and in which he continually got the worst of it. It was in the nature of a relief to Micky, on awaking about noon, to reflect a little upon the good old adage that dreams go by contraries.
Having had breakfast at an hour even unfashionably late, Micky sauntered over to the office. He moved with unwonted deliberation, for this was to be his night off. He had thought many times of Maisie, who was ill, and had decided that late in the afternoon would be the best time to make the call her brother had suggested. He must kill a little time till then. So he took his way instinctively to the office, being one of those unquiet newspaper spirits that hover uneasily about the hive, even when they have a brief breathing space in which to drone a little.
Now that the first shock of the announcement of the girl's illness was over, Micky viewed the situation with more composure. Her brother had said it was not serious, and Micky knew that the fever to which Maisie had fallen a victim, and which was quite prevalent in the city, existed in a mild form. She would be out in a few days, but—ah! it was too bad, anyway. Micky sought indignantly to blink away the moisture that treacherously gathered in his eyes.
Reaching the office, he hung around aimlessly for a while, watching the rest of them work. He was more silent than usual and made rather brief replies to their greetings and subsequent comments. It was rather odd to see him mooning in this way, and they conspired together to "jounce" him out of it.