It was nearly midnight, and two upper stories of the huge dark building were brilliantly lighted, as was shown on the outside by the long rows of glittering windows.

They entered a room where a man was seated at a table, with coat and vest thrown off, and his hat set well back on his head.

Cold as it was outside, it was warm in this man's room, and the room was blue with smoke.

A black corn-cob pipe was in his teeth, and the man was writing away as if for dear life, on sheets of coarse white copy paper, stopping now and then to fill up his pipe or to relight it after it had gone out.
"There," said Speed, waving his hand towards the writer with a certain air of proprietory pride, "there sits one of the very cleverest men on the Chicago press.

That fellow, sir, is gifted with a nose for news which has no equal in America.