On an evening in October, returning home at an early hour, Keith found Nan indignant and excited. She held in her hand a tiny newspaper, not half the usual size, consisting only of a single sheet folded.

"Have you seen this?" she burst out as Keith entered. "Isn't it outrageous!"

Keith was tired, and sank into an easy chair with a sigh of relaxation.

"No, what is it?" he asked, reaching his hand for the paper. "Oh, the new paper. I saw them selling it on the street yesterday."

It was the _Bulletin_, Vol. 1, No. 2. Like all papers of that day, and like some of the English papers now, its first page was completely covered with small advertisements. A thin driblet of short local items occupied a column on the third and fourth pages, a single column of editorial on the second.

"Seems a piffling little sheet," he observed, "to be read in about eight seconds by any one not interested in advertisements. What is it that agitates you, Nan?"

"Read that." She pointed to the editorial.

The article in question proved to be an attack on Palmer, Cook & Co. It said nothing whatever about the Cohen-Naglee robbery. Its subject was the excessive rentals charged the public by Palmer, Cook & Co. for postal boxes. But it mentioned names, recorded specific instances, avoided generalities, and stated plainly that this was merely beginning at the beginning in an expose of the methods of these "Uriah Heeps."

"Why do they permit such things?" cried Nan, scarcely waiting for Keith to finish his reading, "What is Mr. Palmer going to do about it?"

"Survive, I guess," replied Keith, with a grin. "I take back my opinion of the paper. It certainly has life." He turned to the head of the page. "Hullo!" he cried in surprise. "James King of William running this, eh?" He whistled, then laughed. "That promises to be interesting, sure. He was in business with that crowd for some time. He ought to have information from the inside!"

"Mrs. Palmer is simply furious," said Nan.

"I'll bet she is. Are we invited out this evening?"

"The Thurstons' musicale. I thought you'd be interested in that."

"Let me off, Nan, that's a good fellow," pleaded Keith, whose weariness had vanished. "I'd be delighted to go at any other time. But this is too rich. I must see what the gang has to say."

"I suppose I could drop Ben Sansome a note," assented Nan doubtfully.

"Do! Send the Chink around with it," urged Keith, rising. "I'll get a bite downtown and not bother you."

The gang--as indeed the whole city--took it as a great joke. Of those Keith met, only Jones, the junior partner, failed to see the humour, and he passed the affair off in cavalier fashion. That did not save him from the obligation of setting up the drinks.

"I'm going to fix this thing up in the morning," he stated confidently. "Between you and me, there's evidently been a slip somewhere. Of course it ought never to have been allowed to go so far. I'll see this man King first thing in the morning, and buy him off. Undoubtedly that's about the only reason his paper exists. Wonder where he got the money to start it? He's busted. It can't last long."

"If it keeps up the present gait, it'll last," said Judge Caldwell shrewdly. "Me--I'm going to send in a subscription tomorrow. Wouldn't miss it for anything."

"It'll last as long as he does," growled Terry, "and that'll be about as long as a snowball in hell. What you ought to do, Jones, is what any man of spirit ought to do--call him out!"

"He announces definitely that he won't fight duels," said Calhoun Bennett.

"Then treat him like the cowardly hound he is," flared the uncompromising Terry. "Take the whip to him; and if that isn't effective, shoot him down as you would any other mad dog!"

"Surely, that's a little extreme, Judge," expostulated Caldwell. "He hasn't done anything worse than stir up Jonesy a little."

"But he will, sir," insisted Terry, "you mark my words. If you give him line, he'll not only hang himself, but he'll rope in a lot of bystanders as well."

"I'll bet he sells a lot of papers to-morrow, anyhow," predicted Keith.

"I hope so," bragged Jones. "There'll be the more to read his apology."

Evidently Jones fulfilled his promise, and quite as evidently Keith's prediction was verified. Every man on the street had a copy of the next day's _Bulletin_ within twenty minutes of issue.

A roar of delight went up. Jones's visit was reported simply as an item of news, faithfully, sarcastically, and pompously. There was no comment. Even the most faithful partisans of Palmer, Cook & Co. had to grin at the effectiveness of this new way of meeting the impact of such a visit,

"It's clever journalism," Terry admitted, "but it's blackguardly; and I blame Jones for passing it over."

The fourth number--eagerly purchased--proved more interesting because of its hints of future disclosures rather than for its actual information. Broderick was mentioned by name. The attention of the city marshal was succinctly called to the disorderly houses and the statutes concerning them; and it was added, "for his information," that at a cert............