Jennie Baxter, Journalist | Page 8

be made in sovereigns rather than by
bank cheque or notes."
"Well, the traitor seems to be covering up his tracks rather effectually.
How did you come to know him?"
"I don't know him. I've never met him in my life; but it came to my
knowledge that one of the morning papers had already made all its
plans for getting this information. The clerk was to receive fifty pounds
for the document, but the editor and he are at present negotiating,
because the editor insists upon absolute accuracy, while, as I said, the
man wishes to protect himself, to cover his tracks, as you remarked."

"Good gracious!" cried Stoneham, "I didn't think the editor of any.
morning paper in London was so particular about the accuracy of what
he printed. The pages of the morning sheets do not seem to reflect that
anxiety."
"So, you see," continued Miss Jennie, unheeding his satirical comment,
"there is no time to be lost; in fact, I should be on my way now to
where this man lives."
"Here we are at the office, and I shall just run in and write a cheque for
fifty pounds, which we can perhaps get cashed somewhere," cried the
editor, calling the hansom to a halt and stepping out.
"Tell the watchman to bring me a London Directory," said the girl, and
presently that useful guardian came out with the huge red volume,
which Miss Baxter placed on her knees, and, with a celerity that comes
of long practice, turned over the leaves rapidly, running her finger
quickly down the H column, in which the name "Hazel" was to be
found. At last she came to one designated as being a clerk in the office
of the Board of Public Construction, and his residence was 17, Rupert
Square, Brixton. She put this address down in her notebook and handed
back the volume to the waiting watchman, as the editor came out with
the cheque in his hand.
The shrewd and energetic dealer in coins, whose little office stands at
the exit from Charing Cross Station, proved quite willing to oblige the
editor of the Evening Graphite with fifty sovereigns in exchange for the
bit of paper, and the editor, handing to Miss Jennie the envelope
containing the gold, saw her drive off for Brixton, while he turned, not
to resume his game of dominoes at the café, but to his office, to write
the leader which would express in good set terms the horror he felt at
the action of the Board of Public Construction.
CHAPTER III.
JENNIE INTERVIEWS A FRIGHTENED OFFICIAL.
It was a little past seven o'clock when Miss Baxter's hansom drove up

to the two-storeyed house in Rupert Square numbered 17. She knocked
at the door, and it was speedily opened by a man with some trace of
anxiety on his clouded face, who proved to be Hazel himself, the clerk
at the Board of Public Construction. "You are Mr. Hazel?" she ventured,
on entering.
"Yes," replied the man, quite evidently surprised at seeing a lady
instead of the man he was expecting at that hour; "but I am afraid I
shall have to ask you to excuse me; I am waiting for a visitor who is a
few minutes late, and who may be here at any moment."
"You are waiting for Mr. Alder, are you not?"
"Yes," stammered the man, his expression of surprise giving place to
one of consternation.
"Oh, well, that is all right," said Miss Jennie, reassuringly. "I have just
driven from the office of the Daily Bugle. Mr. Alder cannot come
to-night."
"Ah," said Hazel, closing the door. "Then are you here in his place?"
"I am here instead of him. Mr. Alder is on other business that he had to
attend to at the editor's request. Now, Mr. Hardwick--that's the editor,
you know----"
"Yes, I know," answered Hazel.
They were by this time seated in the front parlour.
"Well, Mr. Hardwick is very anxious that the figures should be given
with absolute accuracy."
"Of course, that would be much better," cried the man; "but, you see, I
have gone thoroughly into the question with Mr. Alder already. He said
he would mention what I told him to the editor--put my position before
him, in fact."
"Oh, he has done so," said Miss Baxter, "and did it very effectively

indeed; in fact, your reasons are quite unanswerable. You fear, of
course, that you will lose your situation, and that is very important, and
no one in the Bugle office wishes you to suffer for what you have done.
Of course, it is all in the public interest."
"Of course, of course," murmured Hazel, looking down on the table.
"Well, have you all the documents ready, so that they can be