He entered the building, took the elevator to his floor and walked into the city room. The clatter of typewriters met his ears and the sound was sweet to him in that moment. He crossed swiftly to his desk and sat dawn. Then he motioned to a copy boy. The boy came up to his desk. "Jerry, tell the chief to hold up the form on page one. I've got a special--an accident out at the Proving Grounds. Headline copy." The youth hurried away toward the office of the City Editor, and Fred picked up his phone and dialed a number. He waited a moment and then the voice of Joan Drake came across the wire. "Dr. Fenwick's office." "Joan, this is Fred." The girl's voice laughed across the wire. "Don't tell me you're planning to break our date? Just when I get all dressed up." A smile crossed Trent's lips. "You're almost psychic, honey. Fact is, I was calling to tell you I'll be a little late." There was a pause and when the girl spoke again there was an injured note in her voice. "Well, that's a fine thing. I wait here deliberately after hours for you to pick me up and now you tell me you'll be late! Just what's so more important than me right now?" "I haven't got time to tell you now, Joan, but believe me, I've got the break of the year. A story that will rock the front pages across the country. I'll tell you all about it later. You can wait at Fenwick's place. He won't mind, will he?" He could hear the girl sniff on the other end of the wire. "I don't suppose he will, but I don't think I can say the same for myself." "That's a good girl," Trent laughed. "Just wait for me. It may be an hour or so--" "An _hour_ or so! What are you writing, the great American novel?" He looked up and saw the frowning face of the City Editor approaching his desk. He spoke hurriedly. "I've got to sign off now. The boss is coming up. I'll see you later. Give my regards to Brutus." He replaced the phone as the editor reached his desk. "What's all this about a remake on the front page, Trent?" Fred nodded. "That's right, chief. The biggest story since the atom bomb. Listen!" He gave a short account of what had happened, and then added the personal details of his talk with Gaddon. He saw the eyes of the editor widen as he went on, and by the time he had finished, there was a look of excitement on the editor's face. "Get to that story, Trent. Write it hot, and write it fast. I'll hold the first form and tear down the front page. Stress the human interest angle. Play it up big. We'll hit the news wires with it after we go to press." Then a smile crossed the editor's face. "And you'll get a by-line on this, Trent, that ought to put you in for some big money. Nice work." Then he turned on his heel and was hurrying across the city room toward his glassed-in office, hollering for a copy boy as he went.