He had found him in a theatre and had got him out to the foyer and kept him through the third act, pouring in his ears as much as he felt that it was well for him to know.

Chillingworth had drawn his square, brown hands through his hair and, in lieu of copy-paper, had nibbled away his programme and paced the corner by the cloak-room.
"It looks like a great big thing," said the city editor; "don't you think it looks like a great big thing ?" "Extraordinarily so," assented St.George, watching him.
"Can you handle it alone, do you think ?" Chillingworth demanded.
"Ah, well now, that depends," replied St.George.

"I'll see it through, if it takes me to Yaque.

But I'd like you to promise, Mr.
Chillingworth, that you won't turn Crass loose at it while I'm gone, with his feverish head-lines.

Mrs.Hastings and her niece must be spared that, at all events." "Don't you be a sentimental idiot," snapped Chillingworth, "and spoil the biggest city story the paper ever had.