"If my detectives, working where Sweeney's men ought to be, had not discovered 'Red Mike's' plot the 'Lark' would have been wrecked last night, scores killed, the mail car robbed and 'Red Mike' would have been over the border today," a part of the statement read. It was a telling blow to the mayor and Police Chief Sweeney. Gibson was sweeping everything before him. For the mayor or the chief to have detracted from Gibson's act by hinting that he should have informed the police and caused "Red Mike's" arrest without going through with the plot to the point of assisting in placing the derailer on the track would have been instantly resented as an embittered and ungrateful move--a cry of "sour grapes." During the day John received his first praise from P. Q., who called him to his desk. "Brennan tells me that if it had not been for you we wouldn't have been in on Gibson's little party last night," the city editor said. "I told you Gibson would be a man worth knowing. You're coming along splendidly, Gallant. Just keep it up and practice writing. Read Brennan's stuff and study how he does it. I'll give you all the chance you want and there'll be a little more in your pay envelope this week." John thanked him and hunted up Brennan. "It was mighty kind of you to tell P. Q. that I've helped you," he said. "Forget it," said Brennan. "Your story had all the others beaten to death," he said, referring to what Brennan had written of the attempted train wreck. "Forget that, too," said Brennan. Later in the afternoon he heard from Consuello. He was considerably surprised when he recognized her voice. "I do so want to thank you for what appeared in your paper about Mr. Gibson," she said. "He tells me that it was the best account of what occurred that appeared in any of the papers." "I'm sorry," John confessed, "but it happens that I did not write a word of it." "Really? I thought--he said you were there----" "I was, but you must remember I'm only a cub. I couldn't be trusted with a big story like that. It was written by our star man." "Wasn't it wonderful?" "You mean what Mr. Gibson did?" "Yes," before he realized he added, "and I have an idea that to hear you say so means more to him than all that has been written." "He has--been kind enough--to say--something like that." Then she laughed. "I suppose," she said, "he wouldn't care very much to have me tell you such things. You wouldn't believe me if I told you that what he said didn't please me, would you?" "Well----" "I won't insist that you answer that." "You spoke of wishing to meet mother?" he ventured. "You were so kind Sunday--could you--would you--visit us at home? It's not much but--it's home, you know." "I've been waiting for you to say that," she replied. "Make it whenever you wish. I do want to meet your mother." "Sunday--for dinner?" "Yes." "At three." "At three," she repeated.