The hands of the office clock pointed to twenty minutes after five when Tom reached the World building. There was no hesitancy now; he pushed open the little gate and hurried toward the city editor, who had already placed his hat on his head and was bundling up some papers to carry home. He met Tom's advance with a frown.
"Well?" he asked coldly.
For answer Tom placed a little package of copy before him.
"What's this?" he demanded. But there was no necessity for reply for he was already reading the sheets. Halfway through he paused and lifted a tube to his mouth. "Brown? Say, Joe, get a plate ready for an extra in a hurry; about half a column of stuff going right up." Then he turned again to his reading. At the end he gathered the copy together and placed it on his desk.
"Where'd you get this?"
"On the New York express."
"What station?"
"I left the train at Blankville Junction."
The city editor dated the copy with a big black pencil, ran three strokes the length of each sheet, wrote a very long and startling head over it and thrust it into the hands of a waiting boy.
"Copy-cutter," he said. And as the boy sped off the editor turned to Tom.
"How'd you do it?" he asked, frowning tremendously.