"Then—you really do think?"
"I think your wife will recover."
Duncan saw the great man into his car and at this happy moment a small, spry man waylaid him just as the car was moving off.
"Excuse me, sit"
Scott turned on him with an excited laugh.
"What are you, the Mail, or the Express, or the Gracers' Journal?"
"The Daily Sun, sir."
"Right. Well,—they think she is going to live."
"I am very glad to hear it, sir."
"Good chap. Everybody's been most amazingly good. I wish I could thank everybody."
The pressman was being given a priceless interview, and he knew it. He had arrived at a happy moment.
"We could do that for you, sir."
"Of course you can," and Duck looked at him with big eyes as though for the first time in his life he had discovered the virtues of the Press.
"Heard about Mr. Roland,—I suppose?"
"The proprietor. No,—but."
"Shut up the whole hotel, turned everybody out, to give Ethel the best chance. I offered to hire the whole hotel for three weeks."
"Indeed, sir!"
"But Mr. Roland wouldn't hear of it. Made us a present of three weeks silence. What do you think of that? I could tell you what I think—. He's a great man."
That Duck was over-excited, and exultant, and on the edge of laughter or tears was as obvious to the little pressman as was the unique personal atmosphere of the interview. He had got the real sob stuff. He could give the great public a picture of "Duck—the Live Man."
He did so, and he did more.
The Daily Sun came out with pictures of the Pelican and of Mr. Roland.
"The man who has given his hotel
to Duck and Ethel
for three whole weeks."
When Sorrell saw the Daily Sun he realized that—some-
