"Very well, sir," said the lawyer. "I wish you good evening."

"Just one thing more," said the newspaper man, "before I leave you."

"My dear sir," said the lawyer, impatiently, "I am very busy. I've
already given you a liberal share of my time. I must request that this
interview end at once."

"I thought," said Mr. Stratton, calmly, "that perhaps you might be
interested in the first article that I am going to write. I shall devote
one column in the _Argus_ of the day after to-morrow to your defence of
the case, and whether your theory of defence is a tenable one or not."

Mr. Brown pushed back his chair and looked earnestly at the young man.
That individual was imperturbably pulling on his gloves, and at the
moment was buttoning one of them.

"Our _defence_!" cried the lawyer. "What do you know of our defence?"

"My dear sir," said Stratton, "I know _all_ about it."

"Sir, that is impossible. Nobody knows what our defence is to be except
Mr. Benham and myself."

"And Mr. Stratton, of the Chicago _Argus_," replied the young man, as he
buttoned his coat.

"May I ask, then, what the defence is?"

"Certainly," answered the Chicago man. "Your defence is that Mr. Brenton