the conversation from an extension on the second floor.

Henry seemed to have some recollection of the name of the Harvard professor, as it came over the telephone, and at first was a little taken aback and curious that the news of his discovery should have become known. Despite this, he told all about his detection of the new comet, and proudly, omitting no detail. It would have been ungrateful on his part to have distrusted the man at the other end of the wire, after he had gone to the trouble and expense of calling up, obviously from Boston, and it seemed so unlikely that any one outside astronomical circles would be interested in the discovery. Up to that time, Henry had had no dealings with reporters. By exercising extraordinary discretion, he had managed all his life to keep out of the news, except for occasional real estate transactions, and had always avoided any encounter with the press.

After he had answered heaps and heaps of questions, the voice at the other end said: "Thanks, Mr. Royce. Thanks a lot. Darned good of you to tell me all this."

An oppressive silence descended. By that time, Henry must have guessed that he had been gulled. I got his voice but I missed the play of expression on his face.

"Who is this speaking?" he asked again. "Who the devil are you?"

"Bob McGinity of the Daily Recorder," came the prompt reply.

Henry gave a nervous jump. "What?" he gasped angrily. It was evident that he was utterly taken by surprise. "I--I find your action in calling me up quite incomprehensible, Mr. McGinity. I imagined that--that--"

"Pardon me," the reporter retorted with some dignity. "I never said I was an assistant professor of astronomy at Harvard. I simply asked if you knew of such a person, and you said you did, and then you proceeded to tell me exactly what I wanted to know."

"But surely you're not going to publish this," Henry fumed. "It's too immature. You must keep it out of the newspaper."

"I'm sorry but I have no power to do so, Mr. Royce," the reporter replied. "And no inclination, Mr. Royce."

Henry clawed at the telephone instrument with trembling fingers. "If I had you here, young man," he shouted, "I'd break your damned neck."

He hung up with a bang, and I don't think he slept a wink the rest of the night. And it was entirely due 

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