Spargo, who had been digging his walking-stick into a crack in the
pavement, came out of a fit of abstraction.

"I?" he said. "Oh--I'm going to the office." And he turned abruptly
away, and walking straight off to the editorial rooms at the
_Watchman_, made for one in which sat the official guardian of the
editor. "Try to get me a few minutes with the chief," he said.

The private secretary looked up.

"Really important?" he asked.

"Big!" answered Spargo. "Fix it."

Once closeted with the great man, whose idiosyncrasies he knew pretty
well by that time, Spargo lost no time.

"You've heard about this murder in Middle Temple Lane?" he suggested.

"The mere facts," replied the editor, tersely.

"I was there when the body was found," continued Spargo, and gave a
brief résumé of his doings. "I'm certain this is a most unusual
affair," he went on. "It's as full of mystery as--as it could be. I
want to give my attention to it. I want to specialize on it. I can make
such a story of it as we haven't had for some time--ages. Let me have
it. And to start with, let me have two columns for tomorrow morning.
I'll make it--big!"

The editor looked across his desk at Spargo's eager face.