Edging away from the two, Mellish said in a quick whisper to Sotty, the bartender: "Go and tell the doorkeeper to warn Thompson, or any of the rest of the Argus boys, that their boss is in here." At 12 o'clock that night the local editor sat in his room. "Is that you, Thompson?" he shouted, as he heard a step. "Yes, sir;" answered Thompson, coming into the presence. "Shut the door, Thompson. Now I have a big thing on for to-night, but it must be done quietly. I've unearthed a gambling den in full blast. It will be raided to-night at 2 o'clock. I want you to be on the ground with Murren; will you need anybody else?" "Depends on how much you wish to make of it." "I want to make it the feature of to-morrow's paper. I think we three can manage, but bring some of the rest if you like. The place is run by a man named Mellish. Now, if you boys kept your eyes open you would know more of what is going on in your own city than you do." "We haven't all had the advantage of metropolitan training," said Thompson humbly. "I will go there with the police. You and Murren had better be on the ground, but don't go too soon, and don't make yourselves conspicuous or they might take alarm. Here is the address. You had better take it down." "Oh, I'll find the place all----" Then Thompson thought a moment and pulled himself together. "Thanks," he said, carefully noting down the street and number. The detachment of police drew up in front of the place a few minutes before 2 o'clock. The streets were deserted, and so silent were the blue coats that the footsteps of a belated wayfarer sounded sharply in the night air from the stone pavement of a distant avenue. "Are you sure," said McCrasky to the man in charge of the police, "that there is not a private entrance somewhere?" "Certainly there is," was the impatient reply: "Sergeant McCollum and four men are stationed in the alley behind. We know our business, sir." McCrasky thought this was a snub, and he was right. He looked around in the darkness for his reporters. He found them standing together in a doorway on the opposite side of the street. "Been here long?" he whispered. Murren was gloomy and did not answer. The religious editor removed his corn-cob and said briefly; "About ten minutes, sir." Thompson was gazing with interest at the dark building across the way. "You've seen nobody come out?" "Nobody. On the contrary, about half a dozen have gone up that stairway." "Is that the place, sir?" asked Thompson with the lamb-like innocence of the criminal reporter. "Yes, upstairs there." "What did I tell you?" said the religious editor. "Thompson insisted it was next door." "Come along," said McCrasky, "the police are moving at last." A big bell in the neighborhood solemnly struck two slow strokes, and all over the city the hour sounded in various degrees of tone and speed. A whistle rang out and was distantly answered. The police moved quickly and quietly up the stairway.