"Oh, Lord Stranleigh, does it go?"
Stranleigh flung out his arms.
"It goes!" he cried.
"Lord Stranleigh, how can I ever thank you enough for this?"
"Well, don't try to do it. Spring on your machine, away, and get this news on the wires red hot within ten minutes. I want to see it ticking on the tape when I reach the Corinthian Club."
The eager young man vanished at a rate greatly in excess of the legal limit.
"Now, there goes what they call a hustler out West: a splendid, upright young fellow fighting his way in the world. He's done me one or two good turns in my life. He belongs to the Press Corporation, Limited, and is up to snuff. I have placed in his hands a piece of news that will send a thrill up the congealed backbone of old Preston."
"What have you done?" demanded Mackeller.
"That young man in the swift runabout is a fuse. Didn't you see me light him up with the words, 'It goes'? Now let us get under cover before the explosion."
It was too early in the day for many members to be in the Corinthian Club, so there was no sign of the explosion, although the tape machines of various kinds were chattering away like mad. Lord Stranleigh conducted his two guests to a
