woman enough to know that an attractive appearance might be of some
assistance to her in getting a hearing from the editor, even though he
should prove on acquaintance to be a man of iron, which was tolerably
unlikely. She glanced at the dainty little watch attached to her
wristlet, and saw that it lacked a few minutes of five. She knew the
editor came to his office shortly after three, and remained there until
six or half-past, when he went out to dine, returning at ten o'clock, or
earlier, when the serious work of arranging next day's issue began. She
had not sent a note to him, for she knew if she got a reply it would be
merely a request for particulars as to the proposed interview, and she
had a strong faith in the spoken word, as against that which is written.
At five o'clock the editor would have read his letters, and would
probably have seen most of those who were waiting for him, and
Miss Baxter quite rightly conjectured that this hour would be more
appropriate for a short conversation than when he was busy with his
correspondence, or immersed in the hard work of the day, as he would be
after ten o'clock at night. She had enough experience of the world to
know that great matters often depend for their success on apparent
trivialities, and the young woman had set her mind on becoming a member
of the _Daily Bugle_ staff.

She stepped lightly into the hansom that was waiting for her, and said
to the cabman, "Office of the _Daily Bugle_, please; side entrance."

The careful toilette made its first impression upon the surly-looking
Irish porter, who, like a gruff and faithful watch-dog, guarded the
entrance to the editorial rooms of the _Bugle_. He was enclosed in a
kind of glass-framed sentry-box, with a door at the side, and a small
arched aperture that was on a level with his face as he sat on a high
stool. He saw to it, not too politely, that no one went up those stairs