the newspapers. Here, where they've succeeded--"'

"Who are 'they?'" interrupted Jones.

"That's what I'm here to get at. The murderers of Telfik Bey, of
course. My instructions are to find out secretly, if at all. For
if it does get into the newspapers there'll be the very deuce to
pay. It isn't desirable that even Telfik Bey's presence here should
have been known for reasons which--ah--(here Average Jones remarked
the resumption of his friend's official bearing)--which, not being
for the public, I need not detail to you."

"You need not, in point of fact, tell me anything about it at all,"
observed Average Jones equably.

Pomposity fell away from Mr. Thomas Colvin McIntyre, leaving him
palpably shivering.

"But I need your help. Need it very much. You know something about
handling the newspapers, don't you?"

"I know how to get things in; not how to keep them out."

The other groaned. "It may already be too late. What newspapers
have you there?"

"All of 'em. Want me to look?"

Mr. McIntyre braced himself.