"Would ten dollars make you talk?" asked the reporter, desperately.

"Ye-ah--about the Kaiser and his wood-sawing. By-by!"

The operator, secretly enjoying the reporter's discomfiture, shut off

the lights, slammed the elevator door to the latch, and walked to the

revolving doors, to the tune of Garry Owen.

The reporter did not follow him but sat down on the first step of the

marble stairs to think, for there was a lot to think about. He sensed

clearly enough that all this talk about street-railway strikes and

subpoenas was rot. The elevator man and the engineer were in cahoots.

There was a story here, but how to get to it was a puzzler. He had one

chance in a hundred of landing it--tip the mail clerk in the business

office to keep an eye open for the man who called for "Double C" mail.

Eventually, the man who did call for that mail presented a card to the

mail clerk. At the bottom of this card was the name of the chief of the

United States Secret Service.

"And say to the reporter who has probably asked to watch--hands off!

Understand? Absolutely--off!"

When the reporter was informed he blew a kiss into air and sought his

city editor for his regular assignment. He understood, with the wisdom

of his calling, that one didn't go whale fishing with trout rods.




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