Edgar Franklin Stearns

“ The man relieved Colvin of his fur coat and Carey of his less elegant ulster; and the reporter waited for the crash.
It failed utterly to come! Colvin turned to him again, his smile broader and more genial than ever, and winked slyly.
“Lot of confounded fuss and feathers, eh? Hear the doves cooing in there. But we've got to have it A1, I suppose, if we're going to have women on earth. This way, Jarvis.”
Well, he was Jarvis! That seemed about settled. Whether or not he had lived thirty-two years as Carey, whether or not he had even journeyed uptown as Carey, he was Jarvis now. ”

“ Very briefly may Carey, of the reportorial staff, be explained. His berth on the Chronicle was due to four things—the necessity of earning a living, his “nose for news,” his ability to write the English language, and the fact that he was probably Penfield's oldest and most intimate friend. If the nose did queer things occasionally, it was not Carey's fault. He possessed a very fine imagination, and he was using it in the construction of a novel which he expected to change materially two apparently fixed quantities—the trend of modern fiction and of his own finances. ”

“ And here you stay—and in a room without a telephone—until the Stock Exchange closes tomorrow! That's as flat as I can make it, and if you choose to try for a little trouble—well, there's a penalty for dogging a man.”
“And there's another penalty for restraining a man's liberty!” retorted Carey. “And, furthermore, I'm inclined to think that you've gone insane!”
“Really?” Colvin's lip curled scornfully. “I've dealt with too many of your kind, young man, to be deceived at this late date. ”

“ My name is Henry Carey, and I'm a newspaper man.”
“A newspaper man!”
“Precisely; a reporter on the Chronicle, too, a paper not altogether friendly to some of the big money interests. Look! Here's my watch, with a monogram; here's my cigar-case, similarly marked.” He drew a wallet and threw a dozen of his engraved Chronicle cards on the table. “There is a little more evidence. You'll find my theater credentials in the ulster pocket. If you want further information, see Mr. Penfield of the Chronicle tomorrow evening!”
Colvin examined each article carefully. The stick dropped from his hand. ”

“ In fine, then, the New York Daily Chronicle's morning edition was going to press; and Penfield, who happened to be editor-in-chief, yawned wearily, and wondered whether it would ever get there.
Illustration: “The morning edition was going to press.”
Penfield had spent the latter part of the previous night at a very late supper; and for a man on whose shoulders a morning newspaper rests, it is a practice to be condemned. His jaws seemed unable to remain closed; his eyes watered at intervals, and even the strong cigar could not prevent it. Penfield's temper, too, was tired ”

“ Carey glanced at his watch. It was a few minutes past two. The Chronicle forms had closed an hour ago; some of the early papers for out-of-town were probably on the trains by now.
“I will and I do,” he said.
“Then I'll tell you just one thing,” said Colvin, with acid solemnity. “From the time 'Change opens tomorrow morning, until it closes at three, C & F is going to make a record rise. Before night she'll be worth three times what she's worth at this minute. It has been preparing for weeks.” ”

“ Tomorrow—”
“C & F, I presume?”
“Yes—C & F. Mr. Carey, what sum of money—or what else—will induce you to keep this quiet?”
“Inasmuch as it seems to be a very nice piece of news—no sum at all!”
Colvin sat down beside the table and groaned. His puckered face regarded the other almost helplessly.
Carey, watching him with no small satisfaction, was turning over the situation.
“It must be a unique sensation for you to be in someone else's power,” he observed, pleasantly. “You want me to pledge my word not to print this story?” ”

“ Carey sat down, across the table.
“Look here, Mr. Colvin, I gave you my word that the Chronicle would print nothing of this tomorrow morning, and it will not. But the first of our evening editions is on the street by nine o'clock, and there is nothing to prevent my giving the staff a tip.”
“Man!” Colvin started up, and his eyes were dilated with horror.
“Oh, hold on. I'm not going to do it, except on certain conditions. Mr. Colvin, I want to take advantage of that little C & F performance!”
“Very well, you have all the information you need now,” said the millionaire, grimly. ”

“ Penfield scowled at him as he took a chair.
“What d'ye think this is—a ball room?” the editor-in-chief inquired, politely, his penetrating stare fixed relentlessly upon Carey's expansive shirt bosom.
“Well—I knew I'd get my copy in early tonight,” said Carey, apologetically, “I'm going to meet the better half at a little gathering uptown.”
“Lord!” Penfield whirled back and sought to blast the desk with his frown. “A man might think you were the 'sassiety' editor, all primed for business!” ”

“ Made it into a lot of oozy mush about the good work they're doing! Who wants that? Who wants to wallow around in a lot of full-flavored sentimentality, when they're looking for news and diversion? Eh?”
“Sentimentality be hanged!” replied Carey, warmly. ”

“ Some fifteen minutes afterward, he left the subway station and trudged along the rapidly piling drifts, through the cross street and up the avenue a block or two, to the expensive and exclusive Burlingham Club. ”

“ I beat the market; yes, sir, with a little kindly assistance from an eminent financier, I beat the market! And out of it I hammered—” he consulted a slip of paper in his hand—“just two hundred and seventy-three thousand dollars!”
This work is in the public domain in the United States because it was published before January 1, 1929.
The longest-living author of this work died in 1958, so this work is in the public domain in countries and areas where the copyright term is the author's life plus 65 years or less. ”