“Indeed, I won’t tell him how I got there; or, rather, I’ll say I came there by myself; so all you need to do is to show me the door, and there won’t need to be any lies told. “True for ye, an’ a very good idea. Well, miss, then will ye just come up the stairs with me? It’s the fourth door down the passage.” Miss Jennie beamed upon the susceptible Irishman a look of such melting gratitude that the man, whom bribery had often attempted to corrupt in vain, was her slave for ever after. They went up the stairs together, at the head of which the porter stood while Miss Baxter went down the long passage and stopped at the right door; Ryan nodded and disappeared. Miss Baxter opened the door softly and entered. She found the room not too brilliantly lighted, containing a table and several chairs. The door to the right hand, which doubtless led into the waiting-room, where the dozen men were patiently sitting, was closed. The opposite door, which led into Mr. Hardwick’s office, was partly open. Miss Baxter sat down near the third door, the one by which she had entered from the passage, ready to intercept the flying editor, should he attempt to escape. In the editor’s room someone was walking up and down with heavy footfall, and growling in a deep voice that was plainly audible where Miss Jennie sat. “You see, Alder, it’s like this,” said the voice. “Any paper may have a sensation every day, if it wishes; but what I want is accuracy, otherwise our sheet has no real influence. When an article appears in the _Bugle_, I want our readers to understand that that article is true from beginning to end. I want not only sensation, but definiteness and not only definiteness, but absolute truth.” “Well, Mr. Hardwick,” interrupted another voice--the owner of which was either standing still or sitting in a chair, so far as Miss Baxter could judge by the tone, while the editor uneasily paced to and fro--“what Hazel is afraid of is that when this blows over he will lose his situation--” “But,” interjected the editor, “no one can be sure that he gave the information. No one knows anything about this but you and I, and we will certainly keep our mouths shut.” “What Hazel fears is that the moment we print the account, the Board of Public Construction will know he gave away the figures, because of their accuracy. He says that if we permit him to make one or two blunders, which will not matter in the least in so far as the general account goes, it will turn suspicion from him. It will be supposed that someone had access to the books, and in the hurry of transcribing figures had made the blunders, which they know he would not do, for he has a reputation for accuracy.” “Quite so,” said the editor; “and it is just that reputation--for accuracy--that I want to gain for the _Daily Bugle_. Don’t you think the truth of it is that the man wants more money?” “Who? Hazel?” “Certainly. Does he imagine that he could get more than fifty pounds elsewhere?”