city editor. "I think we won't want anything more to-night."     

  

       Stratton put his hands behind his head, with his fingers interlaced, and leaned back in his chair, placing his heels upon the table before him. A thought-reader, looking at his face, could almost have followed the theme that occupied his mind. Suddenly bringing his feet down with a crash to the floor, he rose and went into the city editor's room.     

       "See here," he said. "Have you looked into that Cincinnati case at all?"     

       "What Cincinnati case?" asked the local editor, looking up.     

       "Why, that woman who is up for poisoning her husband."     

       "Oh yes; we had something of it in the despatches this morning. It's rather out of the local line, you know."     

       "Yes, I know it is. But it isn't out of the paper's line. I tell you that case is going to make a sensation. She's pretty as a picture. Been married only six months, and it seems to be a dead sure thing that she poisoned her husband. That trial's going to make racy reading, especially if they bring in a verdict of guilty."     

       The city editor looked interested.     

       "Want to go down there, George?"     

       "Well, do you know, I think it'll pay."     

       "Let me see, this is the last day of the convention, isn't it? And Clark comes back from his vacation to-morrow. Well, if you think it's worth it, take a trip down there, and look the ground over, and give us a special article that we can use on the first day of the trial."     

       "I'll do it," said George.     

       Speed looked at Brenton.     

       "What would old Ferris say now, eh?"     

  

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