The next morning, as he walked to the station, he passed in the street a parcel delivery van. On the front of it were the twin red posters of _I Say_, a weekly organ of the sensational patriotic type. It was a paper which did in fact a great deal of good in championing the cause of the under-dog, yet at the same time impressing upon the under-dog the highest constitutional principles. But it had to live. And it lived by the weekly promises of sensation which blazed at the public from the red posters all over England, and travelled everywhere on the front of delivery vans and the backs of buses. There was seldom more than a single sensation to each issue. But the very most was made of it by an ingenious contrivance of the editor, who himself arranged the wording of the posters; for each sensation he composed two and sometimes three quite different posters, cunningly devised so that any man who saw all three of them was as likely as not to buy the paper in the confident belief that he was getting for his penny three separate sensations. The two posters that John saw ran as follows: one "A CIVIL SERVANT'S NAME," and the other "OUR ROTTEN DETECTIVES." At the station he saw another one specially issued to the West London paper stalls--"MYSTERY OF HAMMERTON CHASE." And at Charing Cross there was yet another--"WHO OUGHT TO BE HANGED?" John had no doubt of what he would find in the paper. He had wondered often at the long quiescence of the Gaunt family. Clearly they had taken their tale to the editor of _I Say_, and had probably been suitably compensated for their trouble and expense in bringing to the notice of the people's champion a shameful case of oppression and wrong.