Jennie Baxter, Journalist

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  JENNIE BAXTER JOURNALIST

  By Robert Barr

  Entered according to Act of the Parliament of Canada, in theyear one thousand eight hundred and ninety-nine.

  CONTENTS

  I. JENNIE MAKES HER TOILETTE AND THE ACQUAINTANCE OF A PORTER

  II. JENNIE HAS IMPORTANT CONFERENCES WITH TWO IMPORTANT EDITORS

  III. JENNIE INTERVIEWS A FRIGHTENED OFFICIAL

  IV. JENNIE LEARNS ABOUT THE DIAMONDS OF THE PRINCESS

  V. JENNIE MEETS A GREAT DETECTIVE

  VI. JENNIE SOLVES THE DIAMOND MYSTERY

  VII. JENNIE ARRANGES A CINDERELLA VISIT

  VIII. JENNIE MIXES WITH THE ELITE OF EARTH

  IX. JENNIE REALIZES THAT GREAT EVENTS CAST THEIR SHADOWS BEHIND

  X. JENNIE ASSISTS IN SEARCHING FOR HERSELF

  XI. JENNIE ELUDES AN OFFER OF MARRIAGE

  XII. JENNIE TOUCHES THE EDGE OF A GOVERNMENT SECRET

  XIII. JENNIE INDULGES IN TEA AND GOSSIP

  XIV. JENNIE BECOMES A SPECIAL POLICE OFFICER

  XV. JENNIE BESTOWS INFORMATION UPON THE CHIEF OF POLICE

  XVI. JENNIE VISITS A MODERN WIZARD IN HIS MAGIC ATTIC

  XVII. JENNIE ENGAGES A ROOM IN A SLEEPING-CAR

  XVIII. JENNIE ENDURES A TERRIBLE NIGHT JOURNEY

  XIX. JENNIE EXPERIENCES THE SURPRISE OF HER LIFE

  XX. JENNIE CONVERSES WITH A YOUNG MAN SHE THINKS MUCH OF

  XXI. JENNIE KEEPS STEP WITH THE WEDDING MARCH

  CHAPTER I. JENNIE MAKES HER TOILETTE AND THE ACQUAINTANCE OF A PORTER.

  Miss Jennie Baxter, with several final and dainty touches that put torights her hat and dress--a little pull here and a pat there--regardedherself with some complacency in the large mirror that was set beforeher, as indeed she had every right to do, for she was an exceedinglypretty girl. It is natural that handsome young women should attirethemselves with extra care, and although Jennie would have beenbeautiful under any conceivable condition of dress, she nevertheless didnot neglect the arraying of herself becomingly on that account. All thatwas remarkable on this occasion consisted in the fact that she took morethan usual pains to make herself presentable, and it must be admittedthat the effect was as attractive as anyone could wish to have it. Herappearance was enough to send a friend into ecstasies, or drive an enemyto despair.

  Jennie's voluminous hair, without being exactly golden, was--as thepoets might term it--the colour of ripe corn, and was distractinglyfluffy at the temples. Her eyes were liquidly, bewitchingly black, ofmelting tenderness, and yet, upon occasion, they would harden intopiercing orbs that could look right through a man, and seem to fathomhis innermost thoughts. A smooth, creamy complexion, with a touch of redin the cheeks, helped to give this combination of blonde and brunette anappearance so charmingly striking that it may be easily understood shewas not a girl to be passed by with a single glance. Being so favouredby nature, Jennie did not neglect the aid of art, and it must beadmitted that most of her income was expended in seeing that herwardrobe contained the best that Paris could supply; and the best inthis instance was not necessarily the most expensive--at least not asexpensive as such supplementing might have been to an ordinary woman,for Jennie wrote those very readable articles on the latest fashionablegowns which have appeared in some of the ladies' weeklies, and it wasgenerally supposed that this fact did not cause her own replenishingfrom the _modistes_ she so casually mentioned in her writings to be moreexpensive than her purse could afford. Be that as it may, Miss Baxterwas always most becomingly attired, and her whole effect was soentrancing that men have been known to turn in the street as she passed,and murmur, "By Jove!" a phrase that, when you take into account thetone in which it is said, represents the furthermost point of admirationwhich the limited vocabulary of a man about town permits him to utter;and it says something for the honesty of Jennie's black eyes, and thestraightforwardness of her energetic walk, that none of these momentaryadmirers ever turned and followed her.

  On this occasion Miss Jennie had paid more than usual attention to hertoilette, for she was about to set out to capture a man, and the man wasno other than Radnor Hardwick, the capable editor of the _Daily Bugle_,which was considered at that moment to be the most enterprising morningjournal in the great metropolis. Miss Baxter had done work for someof the evening papers, several of the weeklies, and a number of themonthlies, and the income she made was reasonably good, but hazardouslyfitful. There was an uncertainty about her mode of life which wasdispleasing to her, and she resolved, if possible, to capture an editoron one of the morning papers, and get a salary that was fixed andsecure. That it should be large was a matter of course, and pretty MissJennie had quite enough confidence in herself to believe she would earnevery penny of it. Quite sensibly, she depended upon her skill and herindustry as her ultimate recommendation to a large salary, but she waswoman enough to know that an attractive appearance might be of someassistance to her in getting a hearing from the editor, even though heshould prove on acquaintance to be a man of iron, which was tolerablyunlikely. She glanced at the dainty little watch attached to herwristlet, and saw that it lacked a few minutes of five. She knew theeditor came to his office shortly after three, and remained there untilsix or half-past, when he went out to dine, returning at ten o'clock, orearlier, when the serious work of arranging next day's issue began. Shehad not sent a note to him, for she knew if she got a reply it would bemerely a request for particulars as to the proposed interview, and shehad a strong faith in the spoken word, as against that which is written.At five o'clock the editor would have read his letters, and wouldprobably have seen most of those who were waiting for him, andMiss Baxter quite rightly conjectured that this hour would be moreappropriate for a short conversation than when he was busy with hiscorrespondence, or immersed in the hard work of the day, as he would beafter ten o'clock at night. She had enough experience of the world toknow that great matters often depend for their success on apparenttrivialities, and the young woman had set her mind on becoming a memberof the _Daily Bugle_ staff.

  She stepped lightly into the hansom that was waiting for her, and saidto the cabman, "Office of the _Daily Bugle_, please; side entrance."

  The careful toilette made its first impression upon the surly-lookingIrish porter, who, like a gruff and faithful watch-dog, guarded theentrance to the editorial rooms of the _Bugle_. He was enclosed in akind of glass-framed sentry-box, with a door at the side, and a smallarched aperture that was on a level with his face as he sat on a highstool. He saw to it, not too politely, that no one went up those stairsunless he had undoubted right to do so. When he caught a glimpse of MissBaxter, he slid off the stool and came out of the door to her, whichwas an extraordinary concession to a visitor, for Pat Ryan contentedhimself, as a usual thing, by saying curtly that the editor was busy,and could see no one.

  "What did you wish, miss? To see the editor? That's Mr. Hardwick. Haveye an appointment with him? Ye haven't; then I very much doubt if ye'llsee him this day, mum. It's far better to write to him, thin ye canstate what ye want, an' if he makes an appointment there'll be nothrouble at all, at all."

  "But why should there be any trouble now?" asked Miss Baxter. "Theeditor is here to transact business, just as you are at the door to dothe same. I have come on business, and I want to see him. Couldn't yousend up my name to Mr. Hardwick, and tell him I will keep him but a fewmoments?"

  "Ah, miss, that's what they all say; they ask for a few moments an' theyshtay an hour. Not that ther
e'd be any blame to an editor if he kept youas long as he could. An' it's willing I'd be to take up your name, butI'm afraid that it's little good it 'ud be after doin' ye. There's morethan a dozen men in the waitin'-room now, an' they've been there forthe last half-hour. Not a single one I've sent up has come down again."

  "But surely," said Miss Jennie, in her most coaxing tone, "there must besome way to see even such a great man as the editor, and if there is,you know the way."

  "Indade, miss, an' I'm not so sure there is a way, unless you met him inthe strate, which is unlikely. As I've told ye, there's twelve men nowwaitin' for him in the big room. Beyont that room there's another one,an' beyont that again is Mr. Hardwick's office. Now, it's as much as myplace is worth, mum, to put ye in that room beyont the one where themen are waitin'; but, to tell you the truth, miss," said the Irishman,lowering his voice, as if he were divulging office secrets, "Mr.Hardwick, who is a difficult man to deal with, sometimes comes throughthe shmall room, and out into the passage whin he doesn't want to seeanyone at all, at all, and goes out into the strate, leavin' everybodywaitin' for him. Now I'll put ye into this room, and if the editor triesto slip out, then ye can speak with him; but if he asks ye how ye gotthere, for the sake of hiven don't tell him I sint ye, because that'snot my duty at all, at all."

  "Indeed, I won't tell him how I got there; or, rather, I'll say I camethere by myself; so all you need to do is to show me the door, and therewon't need to be any lies told.

  "True for ye, an' a very good idea. Well, miss, then will ye just comeup the stairs with me? It's the fourth door down the passage."

  Miss Jennie beamed upon the susceptible Irishman a look of such meltinggratitude that the man, whom bribery had often attempted to corrupt invain, was her slave for ever after. They went up the stairs together, atthe head of which the porter stood while Miss Baxter went down the longpassage and stopped at the right door; Ryan nodded and disappeared.

  Miss Baxter opened the door softly and entered. She found the room nottoo brilliantly lighted, containing a table and several chairs. The doorto the right hand, which doubtless led into the waiting-room, where thedozen men were patiently sitting, was closed. The opposite door, whichled into Mr. Hardwick's office, was partly open. Miss Baxter sat downnear the third door, the one by which she had entered from the passage,ready to intercept the flying editor, should he attempt to escape.

  In the editor's room someone was walking up and down with heavyfootfall, and growling in a deep voice that was plainly audible whereMiss Jennie sat. "You see, Alder, it's like this," said the voice. "Anypaper may have a sensation every day, if it wishes; but what I want isaccuracy, otherwise our sheet has no real influence. When an articleappears in the _Bugle_, I want our readers to understand that thatarticle is true from beginning to end. I want not only sensation, butdefiniteness and not only definiteness, but absolute truth."

  "Well, Mr. Hardwick," interrupted another voice--the owner of which waseither standing still or sitting in a chair, so far as Miss Baxter couldjudge by the tone, while the editor uneasily paced to and fro--"whatHazel is afraid of is that when this blows over he will lose hissituation--"

  "But," interjected the editor, "no one can be sure that he gave theinformation. No one knows anything about this but you and I, and we willcertainly keep our mouths shut."

  "What Hazel fears is that the moment we print the account, the Board ofPublic Construction will know he gave away the figures, because of theiraccuracy. He says that if we permit him to make one or two blunders,which will not matter in the least in so far as the general accountgoes, it will turn suspicion from him. It will be supposed that someonehad access to the books, and in the hurry of transcribing figureshad made the blunders, which they know he would not do, for he has areputation for accuracy."

  "Quite so," said the editor; "and it is just that reputation--foraccuracy--that I want to gain for the _Daily Bugle_. Don't you think thetruth of it is that the man wants more money?"

  "Who? Hazel?"

  "Certainly. Does he imagine that he could get more than fifty poundselsewhere?"

  "Oh, no; I'm sure the money doesn't come into the matter at all. Ofcourse he wants the fifty pounds, but he doesn't want to lose hissituation on the Board of Public Construction in the getting of it."

  "Where do you meet this man, at his own house, or in his office at theBoard?"

  "Oh, in his own house, of course."

  "You haven't seen the books, then?"

  "No; but he has the accounts all made out, tabulated beautifully, andhas written a very clear statement of the whole transaction. Youunderstand, of course, that there has been no defalcation, noembezzlement, or anything of that sort. The accounts as a wholebalance perfectly, and there isn't a penny of the public funds wronglyappropriated. All the Board has done is to juggle with figures so thateach department seems to have come out all right, whereas the truth isthat some departments have been carried on at a great profit, while withothers there has been a loss. The object obviously has been to deceivethe public and make it think that all the departments are economicallyconducted."

  "I am sorry money hasn't been stolen," said the editor generously, "thenwe would have had them on the hip; but, even as it is, the _Bugle_ willmake a great sensation. What I fear is that the opposition press willseize on those very inaccuracies, and thus try to throw doubt on thewhole affair. Don't you think that you can persuade this person to letus have the information intact, without the inclusion of those blundershe seems to insist on? I wouldn't mind paying him a little more money,if that is what he is after."

  "I don't think that is his object. The truth is, the man is frightened,and grows more and more so as the day for publication approaches. He isso anxious about his position that he insisted he was not to be paid bycheque, but that I should collect the money and hand it over to him insovereigns."

  "Well, I'll tell you what to do, Alder. We mustn't seem too eager. Letthe matter rest where it is until Monday. I suppose he expects you tocall upon him again to-day?"

  "Yes; I told him I should be there at seven."

  "Don't go, and don't write any explanation. Let him transfer a little ofhis anxiety to the fear of losing his fifty pounds. I want, if possible,to publish this information with absolute accuracy."

  "Is there any danger, Mr. Hardwick, that some of the other papers mayget on the track of this?"

  "No, I don't think so; not for three days, anyway. If we appear tooeager, this man Hazel may refuse us altogether."

  "Very good, sir."

  Miss Baxter heard the editor stop in his walk, and she heard therustling of paper, as if the subordinate were gathering up somedocuments on which he had been consulting his chief. She waspanic-stricken to think that either of the men might come out and findher in the position of an eavesdropper, so with great quietness sheopened the door and slipped out into the hall, going from there to theentrance of the ordinary waiting-room, in which she found, not thetwelve men that the porter had expatiated upon, but five. Evidently theother seven had existed only in the porter's imagination, or had becometired of waiting and had withdrawn. The five looked up at her as sheentered and sat down on a chair near the door. A moment later the doorcommunicating with the room she had quitted opened, and a clerk came in.He held two or three slips of paper in his hand, and calling out a name,one of the men rose.

  "Mr. Hardwick says," spoke up the clerk, "that this matter is in Mr.Alder's department; would you mind seeing him? Room number five."

  So that man was thus got rid of. The clerk mentioned another name, andagain a man rose.

  "Mr. Hardwick," the clerk said, "has the matter under consideration.Call again to-morrow at this hour, then he will give you his decision."

  That got rid of number two. The third man was asked to leave his nameand address; the editor would write to him. Number four was told thatif he would set down his proposition in writing, and send it in to Mr.Hardwick, it would have that gentleman's serious consideration. Thefifth man was not so
easily disposed of. He insisted upon seeing theeditor, and presently disappeared inside with the clerk. Miss Baxtersmiled at the rapid dispersion of the group, for it reminded her of therhyme about the one little, two little, three little nigger-boys. Butall the time there kept running through her mind the phrase, "Board ofPublic Construction," and the name, "Hazel."

  After a few minutes, the persistent man who had insisted upon seeing theeditor came through the general waiting-room, the secretary, or clerk,or whoever he was, following him.

  "Has your name been sent in, madam?" the young man asked Miss Baxter, asshe rose. "I think not," answered the girl. "Would you take my card toMr. Hardwick, and tell him I will detain him but a few moments?"

  In a short time the secretary reappeared, and held the door open forher.