In the whole suite of rooms there
was no sign of human life.
"'Where is the editor?' 'Or the foreign editor?' 'Or the chief leader-
writer? Or anybody?'
"In answer to the shower of questions the boy unlocked a drawer and
produced a strange-looking envelope, which bore a Khokand postmark, and a
date of some seven or eight months back. It contained a scrap of paper
on which was written the following message:
"'Entire party captured by brigand tribe on homeward journey. Quarter
of million demanded as ransom, but would probably take less. Inform
Government, relations, and friends.'
"There followed the signatures of the principal members of the party and
instructions as to how and where the money was to be paid.
"The letter had been directed to the office-boy-in-charge, who had
quietly suppressed it. No one is a hero to one's own office-boy, and he
evidently considered that a quarter of a million was an unwarrantable
outlay for such a doubtfully advantageous object as the repatriation of
an errant newspaper staff. So he drew the editorial and other salaries,
forged what signatures were necessary, engaged new reporters, did what
sub-editing he could, and made as much use as possible of the large
accumulation of special articles that was held in reserve for
emergencies. The articles on foreign affairs were entirely his own
composition.
"Of course the whole thing had to be kept as quiet as possible; an
interim staff, pledged to secrecy, was appointed to keep the paper going
till the pining captives could be sought out, ransomed, and brought home,
in twos and threes to escape notice, and gradually things were put back
on their old footing.
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