"Mr. Minturn! Mr. James Minturn!" said Mickey. "He's Mr. Bruce's best friend, and he _told_ me he would do _anything_ for Miss Leslie, that day right after I saw you, for if his home ever came right again, it would be 'cause she made it; and she _did_ make it, and it is _right_, and he's so crazy happy he can't hardly keep on the floor. _Course_ he'd pay Miss Leslie back. He _said_ he would. He's the nicest man!" "Isn't your world rather full of nice men, Mickey?" Mickey renewed his grip. His eyes were pleading, the white light on his brow was shining, his voice was irresistibly sweet: "You just bet my world is full of nice men, packed like sardines; but they'll all scrooge up a little and make room for you on the top layer among the selects! Come on now! Rustle for your place before we revolve and leave you. All your life you'll be sorry if you make that scoop, and kill Miss Leslie, and shame 'darling old Daddy,' and ruin my boss. Oh I say Mr. Chaffner, you _can't!_ You can't ever sleep nights again, if you do! They haven't ever done anything to you. You'll be the _nicest_ man of all, if you'll _tell me what to do_. 'Twon't take you but a second, 'cause you _know_. Oh tell me, for the love of God tell me, Mr. Chaffner! _You'll be the nicest man I know, if you'll tell me_." The editor looked down in Mickey's compelling eyes. He laid his hand on the lad's brow and said: "That would be worth the price of any scoop I ever pulled off, Mickey. Are you going to be a lawyer or write that poetry for me?" "If I'd ever even thought of law, _this_ would cook me," said Mickey. "Poetry it is, as soon as I earn enough to pay for finding out how to do it right." "And when you find out, will you come on my staff, and work directly under me?" asked Mr. Chaffner. "Sure!" promised Mickey. "I'd rather do it than anything else in the world. It would suit me fine. That is, if you're coming in among my nice men----" Mr. Chaffner held out his hand. "This is going to cost me something in prestige and in cash," he said, "but Mickey, you make it _worthwhile_. Here are your instructions: _don't_ deliver that letter! Cut for Minturn and give it to him. Tell him if he wants me, to call any time inside an hour, and that he hasn't longer than noon to make good. He'll understand. If you can't beat a taxi on foot, take one. Have you money?" "Yes," said Mickey, "but just suppose he isn't there and I can't find him?" "Then find his wife, and tell her to call me." "All right! Thanks, boss! You're simply great!" Mickey took the taxi and convinced the driver he was in a hurry. He danced in the elevator, ran down the hall, and into Mr. Minturn's door. There he stopped abruptly, for he faced Miss Winton and Mrs. Minturn, whose paling face told Mickey that he was stamped on her memory as she was on his. He pulled off his cap, and spoke to Mr. Minturn. "Could I see you a minute?" he asked. "Certainly! Step this way. Excuse us ladies."