touched a button and hastily wrote a note.

“Hand this to the telegraph editor,” he said to the messenger as he gave him this message:

“Craig, Tribune, Chicago. Rush anything on Aerial Utilities Company, organization and business. Also matter concerning Airship Boys, Napier, Hope and Russell.”

Then he turned to Winton again.

“Story in to-night about those boys and a big aeroplane. Napier and Hope and maybe Russell are not in Chicago, but somewhere in Newark. Their newest idea was manufactured by the American Aeroplane Company in Newark. Call the works on a chance; like as not you won’t find any one there. Look up the head of the company. Raise him on the phone. If he won’t talk about the new airship make him tell you where the Airship Boys are. Try the hotels by phone. Must have something about these young men. The man on the story missed a talk with ’em.”

Winton rushed to the telephone room and Mr. Latimer, with another glance at the clock, put the Newark “beat” aside for a moment while he gave his attention to the accumulating copy received from the local news bureau and late evening assignment men. With instructions for each, he had “covered” an East Side tenement fire by rushing four men to the scene and had personally called up and talked to a leading financier on a financial story when Winton returned.

“J. W. Atkinson is president of the Aeroplane Company,” Winton reported. “No one at works. Got Atkinson on phone. He won’t talk but acknowledges Airship Boys are in Newark. Won’t say where. Can’t find ’em at hotels.”

Without answering, the night city editor turned to his telephone.

“Get me the Newark office,” he ordered. “Nathan, if he’s there. Go to the library,” he added, speaking to Winton, “and dig up a story on these kids. There’s plenty there. Get half a column. See if we have any pictures.”

While Winton hurried away on his new task, the telephone rang.

“Newark?” asked Mr. Latimer. “Is that Nathan?”

“Mr. Nathan’s out eatin’ supper,” replied a juvenile voice.

“Go get him. Tell him this. Ready? Put down J. W. Atkinson. Got it? J. W. Atkinson, president American Aeroplane Company. Tell Nathan to see Mr. Atkinson at his home and find where Ned Napier and Alan Hope can be found. Put the names down: Ned Napier and Alan Hope.”

“I know ’em,” interrupted the youthful voice. “Them’s the Airship Boys.”

“Tell Nathan not to leave Mr. Atkinson until he learns where those boys are stopping: where they are in Newark. Got it?”

These events had taken place within fifteen minutes. At ten minutes after eleven Mr. Latimer again put the Newark story aside temporarily and gave all his time to rounding up his part of the next edition. At eleven thirty o’clock Glidden, who was to provide the material for a general “lead” to the big “beat”—none of the details of which he even knew, turned in five hundred words. Mr. Latimer paused in his other work and glanced hastily at the pages. Then he looked at the clock, leaned back in his chair and read each page.

“Good stuff,” he announced without even a smile as he finished. “That’s the idea; just what I wanted. Stewart is coming in from Newark with the story a quarter after twelve. Get your supper and be back by that time. I want you to help him shape up his stuff. Chambers and Winton will have ‘adds’ to the story.”

A quarter of an hour later Winton reported with his sketch of the Airship Boys. His superior did not read the matter—he was sure enough of Winton—but