CHAPTER I

MYSTERY OF THE UNEXPECTED JULEP


Dunraven Bleak, the managing editor of The Evening Balloon, sat
at his desk in the center of the local-room, under a furious cone
of electric light. It was six o'clock of a warm summer afternoon:
he was filling his pipe and turning over the pages of the Final
edition of the paper, which had just come up from the press-room.
After the turmoil of the day the room had quieted, most of the
reporters had left, and the shaded lamps shone upon empty tables
and a floor strewn ankle-deep with papers. Nearby sat the city
editor, checking over the list of assignments for the next
morning. From an adjoining kennel issued occasional deep groans
and a strong whiff of savage shag tobacco, blown outward by the
droning gust of an electric fan. These proved that the cartoonist
(a man whose sprightly drawings were born to an obbligato of
vehement blasphemy) was at work within.

Mr. Bleak was just beginning to recuperate from the incessant
vigilance of the day's work. There was an unconscious pathos in
his lean, desiccated figure as he rose and crossed the room to the
green glass drinking-fountain. After the custom of experienced
newspapermen, he rapidly twirled a makeshift cup out of a sheet of
copy paper. He poured himself a draught of clear but rather tepid
water, and drank it without noticeable relish. His lifted head
betrayed only the automatic thankfulness of the domestic fowl.