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170 to hold the wire, while the editor of "The Orbit," opening his eyes as sheet after sheet of that valuable matter was brought him, perceived a journalistic feat, and hazarded the opinion that perhaps young Andrews was not after all an irremediable fool.

Meantime the "Enterprise" man paced the office anxiously, and before long "The Unspeakable's" correspondent came panting in. The latter's face fell as he recognized his rival.

"How long'll I have to wait, Fred?" he demanded.

"No idea," said Fred, looking up from the catalogue with a yawn. He seemed mightily indifferent.

Just then Andrews, Ninety-Blank, sauntered into the office, a bit of lamb's wool still sticking to his cheek and the powder only half out of his hair. He nodded cordially to the correspondents, and marched straight around to the inner enclosure, where he seated himself comfortably by the operator, and began to sharpen a lead pencil.

"Could you tell me how soon you'll be through, Mr. Andrews?" ventured the "Enterprise" youth. He was only a sophomore; last year a nod from Jerry Andrews would have made him supremely happy.

"Possibly by twelve," replied Andrews courteously, "but I wouldn't like to promise."

"I suppose not!" said the sophomore, in dignified irony, and he strolled to the door with as much indifference as he could assume. "The Enterprise" went to press at midnight. The only other telegraph office within possible reach, at that hour, was ten miles away. If he had a wheel, though, he might make it in time, and prevent "The Orbit's" beat. And behold, there was "The Unspeakable's" fellow's wheel at the very curbstone, with even the lantern lighted. He took one look at the owner, who was arguing hotly with Fred, swung his leg over the saddle, and pedaled off, under the clear October starlight.

Five miles out of town he narrowly escaped collision with a closed carriage, in which were seated the President of the University and Lord Cuthbert Rawlins, driving homeward in great peacefulness of heart and chatting confidentially, as it happened, about the unfortunate antagonism to Great Britain which is sometimes exhibited in uncultivated American society.

These were the headlines of the "exclusive" intelligence which the New York "Orbit" spread before its readers the next morning. The beat was the talk of Newspaper Row, for the scanty version of the affair telegraphed to the "Enterprise" from a town ten miles away from the scene of the riot was scarcely worth considering as news, though it confirmed the most startling features of the incident. The other morning papers issued later editions, embodying "The Orbit's" story, for there was no mistaking the popular excitement, or the temper of the crowds that surrounded the bulletin boards. Some were incredulous, ready to recognize a colossal American joke, though not quite convinced that it was a joke. More were grave, knowing the tension that already existed between the two countries, and that the slightest strain might cause irrevocable disaster.

The real crisis, however, was not in New York, as everybody knows, but in London. The New York correspondent of the "London Times" lost his head for once, and cabled "The Orbit's" account of the Ossian incident entire. The "Times" extras were flung upon the streets shortly after two o'clock. If New York had rocked like a ship in a storm at the news of the insult to Lord Rawlins, London was like the sea itself. American securities went down, down, and out of sight. But nobody cared. The Ossian incident had been the lightning flash that revealed how far apart the two nations had drifted. Better war now than another week of heart-breaking anxiety. Let it come!

When the House of Commons convened that afternoon, the members had to fight their way through a mob a hundred thousand strong that besieged the Palace Yard. The Minister of Foreign Affairs was late in taking his seat, and when he strolled forward to his place on the government bench, his careless manner was strangely at variance with the drawn lines around his mouth and his haggard eyes.