Merritt, chief reporter of the _Daily Post_, was a remarkable little man. He was quite aware of this and retained his reputation with ease. The life of a chief reporter is a desperate one. The most amazing news scoop to-day is dead twenty-four hours later, and a big reputation can be lost in a day's idleness. Merritt showed no signs of anxiety. He sat at his desk in the stuffy little room adjoining the reporting room, whence he would dart out to send a man speeding across London or to Aberdeen. His totally bald head gleamed with vitality. He could be very rude and very rough, but men had rushed to Ireland at his behest and accounted themselves rewarded when he smiled and said "Good!" He was part of the _Daily Post_ and could not conceive how a man could wish to live for anything else. No one ever saw him go home and no one ever saw him come; he was the first and the last, and when he had gone, he was not at rest. His voice often spoke over the wire from Brixton, disturbing the early morning rest of a jaded reporter. A fire at Muswell Hill, a murder in Camden Town, a burglary in Knightsbridge or an assault at Tottenham--he knew of it first, scented the clue, despatched the sleuth-hounds. It was rumoured that he was married, but for years there was no evidence, until one day he disappeared and returned wearing black. He had buried his eldest boy of twelve. The senior reporter to whom he mentioned this was about to make a remark, and he saw Merritt's mouth twitch, but the next second he was being told of an entry on the diary. It was work, work, work. Other men fell ill, became nervous wrecks, took to drink, were promoted, or left. Merritt remained chief reporter, known from one end of Fleet Street to another, perhaps from one end of the world to the other. He never went out, save at four o'clock for an hour, when he would be seen in a bar near by, within sound of the buses, and he went there for news. He knew every one. Men in the Lobby of the "House," on the Stock Exchange, in Whitehall or at Epsom would ask "How's Merritt?" He was the link to publicity. He knew enough about the lives of men to equip a squad of blackmailers; and K.C.s consulted him when accepting briefs. He had saved a king from assassination and rescued a bishop from a charge of being drunk and disorderly. He had witnessed a succession of editors. Merritt stayed, for Merritt was the _Daily Post_.