preparations to report the big parade?"

"Why, yes," said Bleak. "Three photographers and three of our most
brilliant reporters have been assigned to cover the event. One of
the stories, dealing with pathetic incidents of the procession,
has already been written--cases of women swooning in the vast
throng, and so on. The Balloon is always first," he added, by
force of habit.

"I want you to discard all your plans for describing the parade,"
said Quimbleton. "I am about to give you the greatest scoop in the
history of journalism. The procession will break up in confusion.
All that will be necessary to say can be said in half a dozen
lines, which I will give you now. I suggest that you print them on
your front page in the largest possible type."

From his pocket he took a sheet of paper, neatly folded, and
handed it across the table.

"What on earth do you mean?" asked Bleak. "How can you know what
will happen?"

"The Corporation has spoken," said his host. "Let us go indoors,
where you can read what I have written."

In a small handsomely appointed library Bleak opened the paper. It
was a sheet of official stationery and read as follows:--

THE CORPORATION FOR THE PERPETUATION OF HAPPINESS