Manchurian Books

Newspapers have no other use--except the one I began on." When St.
George entered the city room, Crass, of the goblin's blood cravats,
had vacated his old place, and Provin was just uncovering his
typewriter and banging the tin cover upon everything within reach,
and Bennietod was writhing over a rewrite, and Chillingworth was
discharging an office boy in a fashion that warmed St. George's
heart.
But Chillingworth, the city editor, was an italicized form of
Chillingworth, the guest. He waved both arms at the foreman who
ventured to tell him of a head that had one letter too many, and he
frowned a greeting at St. George.
"Get right out on the Boris story," he said. "I depend on you. The
chief is interested in this too--telephoned to know whom I had on
it."
St. George knew perfectly that "the chief" was playing golf at Lenox
and no doubt had read no more than the head-lines of the Holland
story, for he was a close friend of the bishop's, and St. George
knew his ways; but Chillingworth's methods always told, and St.


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