The Great Secretary-of-State Interview
luncheon. Over in the criminal part of the Supreme Court the jury had come in at last and said solemnly, "Murder in the first degree." But along the Row The Evening Star had quietly appeared with a big beat in its last edition, and all the other afternoon papers were sad and excited about it. But none of them was half so sad at being beaten as The Star was at beating them. And of The Star staff no one felt worse than the young author of the beat. Unless it was Reed.
A long half-hour had passed. Every newspaper along the Row had sent men up to the hotel to get the Secretary of State to affirm or deny The Star's beat. Holliday might be nominated at any moment. So might Wolf. Telegrams were flying back and forth. The Secretary of State had received a bushel.
Although the last edition of The Star was out long ago, no one in the office had gone home, not even the women.
"Any word from Hopper yet?" asked Reed. He had stopped making jagged
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