Howard R. Garis

“ You will take a story of a little child getting lost, and make a fearful, blood-curdling mystery of it.”
For it was Mr. Hosfer's opinion that all reporters were of the sensational class, who loved to dress simple facts up in word-garments of red and green ink. He could not seem to get over the notion, and perhaps it was because he seldom read a paper, being too busy with his many experiments.
“Well, what can I do for you?” asked the chemist, rubbing his hands. “Have you a sample of blood for me to analyze, or a dead body you want me to boil up in a test-tube? Trot it out,” and he smiled. ”

“ In a short while they found themselves at the office of the chemist. The place was shut up, but Mr. Newton seemed to know where the scientist lived, for he rang a bell a few houses off, and, when a girl answered the door, asked:
“Is Mr. Hosfer in?”
“He is, but he's very busy.”
“Just tell him Mr. Newton wants to see him,” said Larry, and the girl, with an air as much as to say that her errand would be fruitless, hurried off, leaving the two reporters standing on the steps.
“Not very polite,” said Mr. Newton, as they waited. ”

“ Hosfer. “You think I'm a regular Sherlock Holmes. I can't tell what made 'em at a moment's glance. I doubt if even Sherlock Holmes could. I might make a guess, and hit it, or I might not. Probably not. ”