But while preparing for press upon the second night the chance came. There was no scandal, no effective news; but there was matter for a sensational, semi-mysterious “leading story” in a tiny little scrap of news dictated by Mr. David Brunger, laboriously copied out a dozen times by Mr. Issy Jago and left by that gentleman at the offices of as many newspapers. Seven sub-editors “spiked” it, three made of it a “fill-par.,” one gave it a headline and sent it up as an eight-line “news-par.”; one, in the offices of the _Daily_, read it, laughed; spoke to the news-editor; finally carried it up to Mr. Bitt. Mr. Bitt's journalistic nose gave one sniff. The thing was done. Some old idiot was actually offering the ridiculously large sum of one hundred pounds for the recovery of a cat. Here, out of the barren, un-newsy world, suddenly had sprung a seed that should grow to a forest. The very thing. The _Daily_ was saved. Away sped a reporter; and upon the following morning, bawling from the leading position of the principal page of the _Daily_, introducing a column and a quarter of leaded type, these headlines appeared: COUNTRY HOUSE OUTRAGE. VALUABLE CAT STOLEN. SENSATIONAL STORY. HUGE REWARD. CHANCE FOR AMATEUR DETECTIVES. All out of Mr. Issy Jago's tiny little paragraph. _Daily_ readers revelled in it. It appeared that a gang of between five and a dozen men had surrounded the lonely but picturesque and beautiful country residence of Mr. Christopher Marrapit at Herons' Holt, Paltley Hill, Surrey. Mr. Marrapit was an immensely wealthy retired merchant now leading a secluded life in the evening of his days. First among the costly art and other treasures of his house he placed a magnificent orange cat, “The Rose of Sharon,” a winner whenever exhibited. The gang, bursting their way into the house, had stolen this cat, despite Mr. Marrapit's heroic defence, leaving the unfortunate gentleman senseless and bleeding on the hearth-rug. Mr. Marrapit had offered 100 pounds reward for the recovery of his pet; and the _Daily_, under the heading “Catchy Clues,” proceeded to tell its readers all over the country how best they might win this sum. All out of Mr. Issy Jago's tiny little paragraph. II. _Daily_ readers revelled in it. Upon three of their number it had a particular effect. Bill Wyvern had not been at the _Daily_ office that night. Employed during the day, he had finished his work at six; after a gloomy meal had gone gloomily to bed. This man was on probation. His appointment to a permanent post depended upon his in some way distinguishing himself; and thus far, as, miserable, he reflected, he utterly had failed. The “copy” he had done for the first issue of the _Daily_ had not been used; on this day he had been sent upon an interview and had obtained from his subject a wretched dozen words. These he had taken to the news-editor; and the news-editor had treated them and him with contempt.