“Good. Now take this down as a separate piece. It must be marked off with heavy black rules and be in Clarendon or some conspicuous type. Ready? ‘_The Owl_, aghast at this dreadful tragedy, yet arises from its sorrow and issues, on behalf of the public, a solemn exhortation and warning. Let the authorities see to it that the murderer is found, and found speedily. England demands it. The author of this foul deed must be brought swiftly to justice and punished with the utmost rigour of the law. No effort must be spared.’ Now a separate paragraph, please. It must be underlined and should go on the opposite page—under Williams’s article. ‘Aware of the tremendous interest and concern which this terrible crime will arouse, _The Owl_ has made special arrangements to have bulletins (in the same form as this special edition) published at short intervals in order that the public may have full opportunity to know what progress is being made in the search for the criminal. “‘These bulletins will be of extraordinary interest, since we are in a position to announce that a special correspondent will despatch to us (so far as is consistent with the wishes of the police, whom we wish to assist rather than compete with) at frequent intervals, from the actual locus of the crime a résumé of the latest developments.’” Hastings sighed relief and leant back in his chair. “That’s all, Miss Warren. And I hope—since the thing _is_ done—that the murderer’ll remain a mystery for a bit. We’ll look rather prize idiots if the gardener’s boy or some one confesses to-morrow. Get that stuff typed and down to the printers as quick as you can, please.” The girl rose and moved to the door, but paused on the threshold. “Mr. Hastings,” she said, turning quickly, “what does that last bit mean? Are you sending one of the ordinary people down there—Mr. Sellars or Mr. Briggs?” “Yes, yes, I suppose so. What I said was all rot, but it’ll sound well. We just want reports that are a bit different from the others.” She came nearer, her eyes wide. “Mr. Hastings, please excuse me, but you must listen. Why not let _The Owl_ be really useful? Oh, don’t you see what it would mean if we helped to catch the murder? Our reputation—our sales. Why——” “But I say, Miss Warren, look here, you know! We’ve not got an office full of Holmeses. They’re all perfectly ordinary fellers——” “Colonel Gethryn,” said the girl quietly. “Eh, what?” Hastings was startled. “He’d never—Miss Warren, you’re a wonder. But he wouldn’t take it on. He’s——” “Ask him.” She pointed to the telephone at his side. “What? Now?” “Why not?” “But—but it’s two o’clock,” stammered Hastings. He met the level gaze of his secretary’s blue eyes, lifted the receiver from its hook, and asked for a number. “Hallo,” he said two minutes later, “is that Colonel Gethryn’s flat?” “It is,” said the telephone. Its voice was sleepy. “Is—is Colonel Gethryn in—out—up, I mean?”