Richard Connell

“ If The Morning Voice runs that story Big Ed Sheehan will knife the colonel politically.”
Marcus Quigley looked grave.
“But it's news, Geppert,” he said.
“Not another paper in town will touch it.”
“It's news, nevertheless,” the editor repeated doggedly.
“But the colonel wants to be senator.”
“It's news,” repeated Marcus Quigley.
The younger man's temper began to escape from his control.
“News!” he exclaimed. “News! Man alive, don't you ever think of anything but news?”
To the thin lips in the shadow of the great nose came a smile. ”

“ If it does it's a real story.
“When an editor strikes a story like that he's got to print it, despite hell and high water. He owes that to his paper and to the people. An editor who doesn't print news when he knows it is news is the most contemptible creature in God's green world.”
He did not preach often; he was too busy. But those who heard him never forgot his words. Certainly Earl Geppert did not forget them, for he heard the managing editor's little sermon, and that evening in Colonel Fowler's library smilingly gave a more or less accurate version of it for the benefit of the colonel. ”

“ THIS is a newspaper story the hero of which is not a cub reporter who stumbles on a big piece of news, makes a note on his cuff, and beats the town. Properly speaking the chief figure is not a person at all, but a nose. And such a nose! It was attached to Marcus Quigley, managing editor of The Morning Voice. Or, properly speaking again, Marcus Quigley was attached to it. For to all Beholders the fact was instantly and entirely clear that the nose was not made for the man, but that the man was made for the nose. ”

“ All that was certain was that when he finished his twelve-hour workday, which he did each morning at two, he tucked a fresh copy of his paper under his arm and disappeared, presumably into the suburbs, to reappear at two in the afternoon with a clean collar and with his nose for news evidently refreshed by slumber.
Eventually it was learned that he had not only a home but a family. Heber discovered this. Heber, who was one of the younger reporters, was on the late watch one night and the city room's rush had died down a bit. Marcus Quigley called Heber to his desk. ”

“ I suppose you've got coin tucked away, in case you lose your job. You've nothing at stake. You know you'll never break into the news with an ugly story yourself. Yes, it's easy to another man's ox gored.”
Marcus Quigley turned from the angry man and bent over a bunch of copy that had just come from the copy desk.
“I haven't time to discuss that with you now, Geppert,” he said evenly. “The Sheehan story is news. It goes in. Good night.”
For a second one might have thought from his face that the clever young man was going to assault the owner of the nose. ”

“ Heber in narrating the incident later said, “I never thought the old fellow could look so utterly human. Why, his face was actually tender!”
Later, when the war was on, the reporters noticed that one corner of Marcus Quigley's desk, usually buried beneath an avalanche of paper, was kept carefully clean, so that the editor might see a small photograph he had pasted there. It was a photograph of a young man in the uniform of an ensign in the United Stats Navy, and though his nose was by no means so prodigious as Mr. Quigley's, one could detect a certain family resemblance. ”

“ Do you think I don't know a man with guts when I see one? Bah, Mark Quigley! You take that nose of yours back to the place in the city room where it belongs.”
The colonel coughed.
“And, oh,” he added, “one other thing. I'm taking Geppert away from The Morning Voice. He doesn't seem to have a nose for news.” ”

“ Not a word need ever get into print. Your son's case is closed, Mark.”
“Old man”—the editor's voice broke—“you're a real friend. Let's see the bulletin.”
Farrell laid on the desk a sheet of paper—the bulletin that is posted in police headquarters to inform reporters of the latest police news. Marcus Quigley bent over it. It read:
Detectives Malone and Stack report that the mystery of the theft of $49,000 in bonds from the City Trust Company has been solved. The theft was traced to Marcus Quigley, Jr., aged 25, of 1770 Linwood Avenue, Vernontown, an employe of the bank. ”

“ And he did tolerate many things; he did not quarrel with the editorial policy of the paper, he did not row with the advertising manager or the foreman of the composing room, although to do these things is deemed a constitutional right by managing editors. ”

“ Go the limit. Front page stuff. Don't ask any questions. You've just time to make the first edition.”
A second later he shouted, “Boy! Here, quick! Jump up to the composing room and tell them to put the shipwreck story inside and save a column on the front page for the—for the Quigley story. Hurry!”
He drew toward him a clean sheet of copy paper, and in his big careful hand wrote:
Editor's Son Kills Self
To Escape Arrest
Marcus Quigley Jr. Stole $49,000 to Aid Woman and Ended Life When Cornered
Then he slumped over on his desk and buried his face in his folded arms. ”