that the men laughed.

"I don't blame him!" said young Irving. "I couldn't find a
single fact in the whole story. How'd your people get it --
pretty straight?"

"Seemed straight to us," said Walsh.

"Well, you didn't handle it that way," returned the other. "Why
didn't you quote Rainey or Gaylor? It seems to me if a man's on
the point of death" -- he lowered his voice and glanced toward
the closed door -- "that his private doctor and his lawyer might
know something about it."

Standing alone with his back to the window was a reporter who
had greeted no one and to whom no one had spoken.

Had he held himself erect he would have been tall, but he stood
slouching lazily, his shoulders bent, his hands in his pockets.
When he spoke his voice was in keeping with the indolence of his
bearing. It was soft, hesitating, carrying with it the courteous
deference of the South. Only his eyes showed that to what was
going forward he was alert and attentive.

"Is Dr. Rainey Mr. Hallowell's family doctor?" he asked.


Irving surveyed him in amused superiority.

"He is!" he answered. You been long in New York?" he asked.