Tales of the City Room
tained his humorous productions in the private archives of his own desk, where they continued to increase in quantity if not in quality.
It was a pity to "fire" Davidson for doing such clever outside work, Chesterfield thought, especially when it would interfere with his marriage. They ought n't to do it—it was n't right. The evidence against Davidson was only circumstantial at best. A dutiful perusal of reports of murder trials had shown Chesterfield how much such evidence could be relied on. According to Kelly, the humorous editor, the very paper on which the offending paragraph was printed was different from that in Davidson's bundle of manuscript. It was written on the typewriter, too. Some one else might have written it. Some one else might say he had!
Chesterfield was interrupted in his reverie by a change in Miss Neville's position. She was beckoning to him. He was at her side in an instant, and as she glanced down at him he saw that her brown eyes looked dim and tired.
"I 've a headache, Chesterfield," she said, laying a hand lightly on her young knight's shoulder. "Will you go down to the chem-
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