"Enough snow for you?" Overman asked jovially as McLeod removed his jumper the next morning in his office at the _Star-Times_. "We're ready to stop it now because the _World_ weather bureau finally owned up to its red face. Thirty-two inches." McLeod nodded. He'd had trouble reaching the slidewalk through the drifts and more trouble struggling through the few yards of high-piled snow to the _Star-Times_ building. "Rewrite showed me the story you sent in last night, Darius. Wonderful. Someone over at the _World_ must be biting his fingernails. They've got to be ready for split second changes in the newspaper business, though. If they don't, they're lost." "What's that little bit of homely philosophy leading up to?" McLeod wanted to know. Overman rarely made his point without prefacing it with some mundane generalization. The more important the point, McLeod knew from experience, the triter the generalization. "We've done a little G-2'ing these last few weeks, Darius." Overman seemed almost on the point of prancing nervously like an anxious racehorse at the starting gate. "I couldn't tell you until it was certain. Harry Crippens is a member of the Anti-Newspaper League." Overman grinned like a yawning owl. "Close your mouth, Darius. Stop gaping. It's the truth." "But that doesn't make sense, chief." McLeod figured it made very good sense if Overman said so, but he needed time to collect his thoughts. "Dirty doings at the _Star-Times_," preached Overman. "It's frightening, isn't it? If you can't trust your fellow reporters, just who in the world can you trust? You see, it's not merely Crippens. There's an Anti-News cell here. "They usually work in pairs, Darius. One to get the information, another to see that editorial policy is not carried out. Don't ask me why they do it. Mis-guided anarchistic tendencies, I suppose. The first member of the pair very often poses as a turncoat with some other newspaper." "I don't get you." "It's simple. That way, he can play two papers against each other and try to make them both wrong. In this case, _she_ can. You see, Crippens' confederate is our number one co-respondent, Tracy Kent," Overman finished melodramatically. "Tracy! That's incredible." _Don't think_, McLeod told himself. _Don't think and let it show on your face. Just listen._ "At this moment, the _World_ believes Kent is on their payroll. Kent keeps them informed of what's going on over here and draws two salaries. Crippens is her executioner. Crippens, for example, sees to it that Congressman Horner doesn't commit suicide." * * * * *