, as it happened—and ran hastily up and down the columns, active exercise having been recommended to me. What cared I for politics, foreign news, or even the sportive intelligence? All I sought for was a paragraph headed 'Horrible Disclosures,' or, 'Awful Death of a Baronet.' I ran up and down the columns in vain.

   No such item of news met my eye. Joyously I rose to go, when my eye fell on the Standard.

   Mechanically I opened it.

   Those words were written (or so they seemed to me to be written) in letters of fire, though the admirable press at Shoe Lane did not really employ that suitable medium.

   'Horrible Discovery near Roding.'

   At once the truth flashed across me. The

    Morning Post

   had not contained the intelligence because,

   The Government had Boycotted the 'Morning Post'!

   Only journals which more or less supported the Government were permitted to obtain 'copy' of such thrilling interest!

   And yet they speak of a free press and a free country!

   Tearing myself away from these reflections, I bent my mind on the awful paragraph.

   'The melting of the snow has thrown a lurid light on the mysterious disappearance (which up to this moment had attracted no attention) of an eccentric baronet, well known in sporting circles. Yesterday afternoon a gentleman's groom, wading down the highway, discovered the white hat of a gentleman floating on the muddy stream into which the unparalleled weather and the negligence of the Road Trustees has converted our thoroughfare. An inscription in red ink within the lining leaves no doubt that this article of dress is all that is left of the late Sir Runan Errand. The unfortunate nobleman's friends have been communicated with. The active and intelligent representative of the local police believes that he is in possession of a clue to the author of the crime. Probably the body of the murdered noble has been carried down by the flooded road to the sea.'

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