Newspaper Page Text
AN ELUSIVE STORY. BY E. J. RATH
(Copyright, 1914, by the Newspaper Enterprise Association.)
Kent walked listlessly into the city
room, sauntered over to his desk at
the farther end, tossed his hat upon
it, lighted a cigaret,"glanced at the
clock, and sat down.
He unfolded a couple of "evening"
editions, and was giving them a cur
sory and indifferent examination
when he heard the sharp call:
Indolently he unfolded himself out
of the swivel chair and strolled across
to the city desk. Haskins was sitting
there, snapping his fingers in a
nervous way and glaring at him
through his glasses.
"Well?" he snapped.
"I got it," said Kent, lounging into
an empty .chair.
"Any trouble?" he asked.
"No; it was easy enough."
"About the way I gave it to you?"
"Yes, just about."
"Who'd you see?" asked Haskins.
"I saw him first."
"Did he admit it?"
"Oh, yes; he didn't make any trou
ble about that."
"Give a reason?"
"No ; just admitted it. He said he'd
leave the reason to her, if she wanted
ta give any."
"And you saw her, I suppose?"
Kent nodded again, and his glance
wandered out of the window.
"Did you get any pictures?"
Kent shook his head, and Haskins
pursed his lips in momentary annoy
ance. "Well, go ahead with you stuff,
anyhow. I'll see what can be done,"
For nearly half an hour Kent fed
the machine with words and sen
tences and paragraphs, as though he
himself were but an automatic at
tachment. Then he picked up three
sheets of copy and carried them over
to Haskins' desk.
"All here?" asked Haskins, with a
glance at the" clock.
"I think everything's covered," said
"Well, stay around till I read it,
anyhow. I may want to ask you
something about it."
Kent went over to McCann's desk
and opened a perfunctory conversa
tion about that gentleman's poolroom
crusade. But his mind was on Has
His name was called explosively,
and with a sigh he went to answer.
Haskins motioned to the vacant
chair and picked up the typewritten
"Are these notes, or is this the
story?" he inquired, with elaborate
"The story," he answered evenly.
"Well, it's a hell of a story. Is that
all you can write?"
Kent shrugged his shoulders.
"What's the trouble, Kent? Don't
you want to write it?"
"Can't say I do," answered Kent,
slowly. "You know, she asked "
"Of .course, they all ask," broke in
Haskins, after shaking his head jerk
ily. "So long as we've got to carry
the story, the only way to handle it
is to do our very best with it."
Kent made a brief sign of under
standing and went back to his desk.
After a time he began to write,
very slowly and carefully. He cov
ered "half a sheet, lifted the carriage
and was reading it when Haskins
came over and threw one leg across
the edge of the desk.
"She just had me on the phone,"
"I told her we couldn't" do any
thing." "Whatsort of a person is she?"
"Well, she isn't young," said Kent,
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