In the outer sanctuary guarding the executive offices of the Inter-City Railways Company, on lower Broadway, a fat middle-aged man and a lean young man occupied respectively the chair to the immediate right and the chair to the just as immediate left of red-headed Tess O'Malley, custodian of the switchboard. Both were very keen-eyed gentlemen who kept glancing alternately to a door in front of them marked "Private," from behind which came the rumble of men's voices, and then to the lone telephone resting atop Miss O'Malley's cabinet of plugs and wires.
Outwardly polite and nonchalant toward each other, the fat man was in his mind trying desperately to work out a plan whereby he might thwart the lean man, and vice versa. For they came from rival Wall Street news ticker services and the most important thing in the lives of each just now was to insure getting over the wire to the editorial office first any news resulting from the meeting of the Inter-City Board of Directors now going on behind the door marked "Private." Once flashed to the home office, the news would be instantly relayed over tickers located in brokers' offices in the entire financial district of New York and even in other cities. The Stock Exchange was in session, the news might vitally affect Inter-City stocks. Beat-
