things.




CHAPTER SIX

WITNESS TO A MEETING


Ronald Breton walked into the _Watchman_ office and into Spargo's room
next morning holding a copy of the current issue in his hand. He waved
it at Spargo with an enthusiasm which was almost boyish.

"I say!" he exclaimed. "That's the way to do it, Spargo! I congratulate
you. Yes, that's the way--certain!"

Spargo, idly turning over a pile of exchanges, yawned.

"What way?" he asked indifferently.

"The way you've written this thing up," said Breton. "It's a hundred
thousand times better than the usual cut-and-dried account of a murder.
It's--it's like a--a romance!"

"Merely a new method of giving news," said Spargo. He picked up a copy
of the _Watchman_, and glanced at his two columns, which had somehow
managed to make themselves into three, viewing the displayed lettering,
the photograph of the dead man, the line drawing of the entry in Middle
Temple Lane, and the facsimile of the scrap of grey paper, with a