With the apprehension of men who feel that danger is imminent, the crowd in front of the bulletin shifts uneasily. There is the thought in all minds that some awful calamity may come upon them as they stand there.

Then, too, there is the thought that they may not be safe elsewhere. In such a state of mind men become susceptible to emotion. A word can then sway a mult.i.tude.

From five o'clock, when the first bulletin appeared, until the announcement of the killing of Mr. Drew, a period of two hours and a half, the list has grown to frightful proportions.

From Chicago comes the report that Tingwell Fang, the Beef King, has been killed in his private office by the explosion of a dynamite bomb or some other infernal machine brought there by a man who for weeks had been transacting important business with Mr. Fang. The explosion entirely demolished the office, and when the police succeeded in getting at the bodies it was found that the bomb-thrower had paid for his deed with his life.

In a bundle of papers which the man left in the outer office a note is found which gives his address as the Palmer House. At his room in the hotel a card is found addressed to the public: It read as follows:

I have fulfilled my oath; my self-destruction is proof that I am sincere in the belief that I have acted for the good of mankind.

BENTON S. MARVIN.

Almost as soon as the papers are on the street announcing the tragedy, another message comes from Chicago telling of the strange death of Senator Gold. His body and that of a man who had been with him at the Auditorium are found in the Senator's room. Death has been caused by an unknown agency. There are no signs of violence on either. The money and jewelry of both are undisturbed. Neither man appears to have been the victim of the other's hand, for the apparel of each is unruffled. One is found lying on the floor near the window; the other is found stretched across the table in the room.

Following these early bulletins come others from Philadelphia, St. Louis and Boston, successively announcing the mysterious deaths of President Vosbeck of the National Transportation Trust, Captain Blood of the St.

Louis Steamship a.s.sociation, and of ex-U.S. Supreme Court Justice Elias M. Turner of Ma.s.sachusetts.

"President Vosbeck met his death while on a tour of inspection in the new power house of his company in the western part of the city. With him were his private secretary and a stranger from New York whom he was taking on a tour of inspection. The secretary was sent to find the superintendent of the power house. He returned to find both President Vosbeck and the stranger in the throes of death on the floor near the great dynamo. In the stranger's hand a cane was clutched. This cane was one of those that are commonly made at penitentiaries. It was of leather rings strung on a steel rod."

The above dispatch is spread on the bulletin board, followed by these details:

"As soon as the hospital surgeons and the electrical experts arrived they decided that the cane must have come in contact with the deadly current; and that at that instant Steel and the stranger were standing upon the metal flooring which made a perfect conductor." The death of Captain Blood was even more astounding than that of President Vosbeck.

"In company with the newly appointed Superintendent of the grain elevators, of which the Captain had a monopoly, he descended into the hold of the steamboat that was taking on a cargo of wheat at the Big Three Elevator. The two men were hardly below deck when, by some inexplicable error the engineer received the signal to open the shoot.

An avalanche of golden grain rushed upon the two captives. There was a cry of dismay from the hold, and then only the sound of the rushing stream of grain.

"The engine was reversed and the bucket chain began to take up the grain; but it was too late. When the bodies of the men were reached they were contorted in the agony of death. Suffocation had come as a tardy relief to them."

This bulletin adds to the excitement of the crowd. While the people are reading the extras that tell of the series of strange deaths of men of such national importance as Vosbeck and Captain Blood, the news comes from Boston that a double murder has been committed in Brookline, a suburb of that city.

Ex-Chief Justice Turner of the United States Supreme Court and a friend who was visiting him at his country house, were set upon by highwaymen as they were strolling through a strip of woodland, and had been hanged to trees. It was not known how much money the road agents got. The Justice had never been in the habit of carrying any large sums. As to what money Mr. Burton, his friend, might have had on his person, there was no way of ascertaining.

"The Supreme Court, the Senate, and three of the leading-men in the country, this is pretty big game," remarks one of the crowd.

"It will be well if it ends there," says another.

"This will cause 'Industrials' to take a slump," observes a stout, sleek, well dressed man.

"Yes," replies a voice at his elbow, "and it may be that a slump of the market is at the bottom of most of this. I wouldn't trust these brokers.

They'd kill a regiment to get a flurry on the market if they were short."

The stout man, who happens to be a stock broker, says no more.

"Get yer extra, all about six millionaires killed; get yer extra!" cry the newsboys.

"Make it seven," shouts a coa.r.s.e voice from the very heart of the ma.s.s of humanity.

And seven it is to be.

The bulletin is being cleared for a fresh notice.

"Bet you it's a Banker this time," a book-keeper, who had deserted his desk to get the latest news, says jestingly.

"Ah, it'll be a dead shoemaker next," laughingly exclaims a messenger boy who has heard the book-keeper's remark.

By a strange coincidence the name that appears the following instant is that of Henry Hide, the head of the leather Trust. The ribald jest of the boy proves to be all too true.

CHAPTER XXV.

BIG NEWS IN THE JAVELIN OFFICE.

Inside the newspaper offices there is even greater excitement than on the streets. The editors are non-plussed at the appalling news that comes pouring in from every section of the laud.

How is the news to be conveyed to the people? is the question that the oldest journalist is unable to answer.

In selecting the leading feature of the day's terrible news, what is to be considered? The fact that an astounding number of murders or accidents have simultaneously stricken with death a score of the leading men of the country, is in itself a matter of unprecedented importance.

But the end is not in sight. Every half hour brings tidings of still other deaths and murders.

The peculiar feature of the news is, however, that in every instance where a banker, mine owner or financier is murdered, the evil-doer has committed suicide. What does this indicate? Is it a concerted move on the part of some society; or is it the result of an inexplicable fatalistic phenomenon?

Just as a decision on these points is arrived at, and the editors have given their orders for the make-up of the extras, some account, either of the death of a railroad magnate or the head of some one of the great trusts, is received. The necessity of a change in the form of the paper is made imperative. For the thought that a rival sheet may feature the news forces a change.

Extras of the evening papers are being issued every half hour. The excitement on the streets exceeds even that of the days when the reports of our wars was the all absorbing topic.

In the present calamity men know not what to think. To some it is apparent that a modern juggernaut is abroad; others hold the belief that a conspiracy is being carried to its b.l.o.o.d.y fulfillment.

No more accurate idea of the confused condition of the public mind can be gathered than from a study of the action in the editorial rooms of the great New York newspaper, the Javelin.

The editorial staff of this paper is composed of the brainiest men in journalism; men who have won distinction in their profession by reason of their ability to handle the news of the day in a manner that will satisfy the demands of the public.

On the large reportorial staff are men who have been brought from various cities; each is competent to gather news and present it in the most interesting fashion.

In the composing room sixty of the most skilled linotypists sit at their machines ready to set the words as they fall from the pencils of the writers.

Still other men are at the presses, awaiting to put the great mechanisms in motion, to pour out a stream of a hundred thousand papers an hour.

All is in readiness to turn out the news with unerring accuracy and incredible speed.

Year in and year out the routine of publication has been gone through with. Now one man who is advanced or discharged vacates a position, which is immediately filled by the man next in line for promotion. The machinery of the office never clogs. But on this night, turmoil takes the place of system.

A crisis in the history of the paper is being reached. The heads of departments are all present, having been summoned by telegram or telephone. They are ready to act. Yet the signal for action is delayed.

To run off the edition of a morning paper is a far different thing from getting out an edition of an evening paper.