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 geniality, but Mr. Gage who knew him only too well was not able to respond.

"Why, you are worse than those duds at Scotland Yard, my friend." The gayety, if not exactly forced, did not seem altogether spontaneous. "If you like, I'll make you a present of a pair of snowboots lined with fur. They are the only things for your complaint. And I hear you can get bedsocks at a reasonable price at Selfridge's white sale."

The Chief lit his cigar. Suddenly he began to smoke furiously. Mr. Gage, who had declined a cigar, indulged in odd, nervous little fumbles with his hands.

"The Planet must take a strong line to-morrow." Saul Hartz's tone was plenary. "Report the inquest fully. Have all the known facts in this case and the other two cases got up carefully, and embody them in a series of articles, to synchronize with the inquest. The Murder of William Garland will make a good caption. Norton or Lewis—I think perhaps Norton had better write it. Let him come to me in half an hour and I'll give him my ideas on the subject."

Dismissal was in the tone. Saul Hartz had no punctilio with the men he employed, no matter how eminent they might be in their own sphere. Even if he did not parade the fact that he was the most important person in the western hemisphere, he liked it clearly to be understood in all matters of domestic administration that his whim was law.

Bennet Gage was frankly distressed. His regard