EXCLUSIVE INFORMATION.

New Zealand Herald, Volume XLVI, Issue 14222, 19 November 1909, Page 3

EXCLUSIVE INFORMATION.

PUBLISHED BY SPECIAL ARRANGEMENT. ;

BY FRANCIS GRIBBLE.

[COPYRIGHT.]

David Eiiert, the editor of the "Delphio Oracle," had had American as well as English experience of journalism. This generally makes a man smart, though it does not necessarily make him scrupulous; but we need not go into that. David Emery, at any rate, flattered himself on being smart, and practical, and in all respect* up-to-date; and he expounded the principles on which he conducted the "Delphic Oracle" as follows:—

" I don't care a snap of the fingers," he said, "for your high-class literary article. Nine-tenths of the public don't like it, and the other tenth like something else better. What I do want is exclusive information. I want that first, and last, and all the time. If I can't get it for less than it's worth I'm willing to pay more.",

He said that in the sub-editorial room; and the sub-editors repeated it at the Press Club and elsewhere, as they were meant to do. ,

"Put it about. Pass it round," was the mot d'ordre; and messages of that sort are seldom passed round without result. Bargainers soon began to arrive, bringing exclusive information of one kind or another. The Delphic Oracle was the first paper in London to announce that the eldest son of the Bishop of Lundy Island was engaged to be married to Mies Polly Shuffles, of the Gaiety Theatre. It also anticipated the '* Oracle of Dodona" in the statement that the Emperor of China was going through a course of Sandow exercises for indigestion. 'Twas well'; 'twas something; but it was not enough to satisfy the ambitions of the editor. He flew at higher game than chorus girls and heathen potentates. " You can't really spread yourself on that sort of scoop," he said. "I want the sort of exclusive information that people can't wait for when once they know it is about." " For instance?" asked his secretary. "Well, you remember the row there was when one of the papers got hold of a secret treaty, and when another published a draft of a Redistribution Bill afore it was given to the press. That's the sort of thing that would make the Delphic Oracle hum." " No doubt it would, but—" But what?"

" When one buys information of that sort one is pretty much in tbo position of a receiver of stolen goods." The editor first shrugged his shoulders, and then drew himself up with dignity. "It is no part of my business," he said, " to euspect the integrity of any man who comes to this office with a good story. Every man is the custodian of his own honour. You want that put about?" " Of course." "All right." " And if you see your way to introduce any one with the sort of story that I have in mv mind— " Thanks. I don't know that I care about doing that; but I'll remember what you say, and pass it round." " That's a good fellow. Pass it round that I'm a bona-fide buyer at fancv prices." So they left it at that, and parted, each of them smiling quietly to himself; and the days pawed, and the weeks passed, and nothing happened, for of course it is not every day, or every week, or even every month that exclusive information of the sort that the world is dying to hear, is being hawked between Charing Cross and Ludgate Hill. " You're sure you're putting it about," the editor sometimes asked the secretary impatiently. "Oh, yes, I'm casting your bread upon the waters. I didn't promise to do more than that." ' '"Very well. I won't forget you if anything comes of it." ' The secretary smiled a deprecating smile; and then more days, and more weeks passed, until, about nine o'clock one evening, a lady called at the office of the Delphic Oracle, and sent in her card.

David Emery, read the name and address: " Miss Laura Hitchcock, 177, Baalbec Road, Highbury," and saw that the words "special and exclusive information ". were scrawled across the card in pencil. "Show her in," ho said/and she entered. She was a nice, neat-looking young woman, apparently about seven-and-twenty years of age, undistinguished but quite selfpossessed; and she carried a roll of paper under her arm. "Might I see you alone? It's something very important," she began; and the editor nodded to the secretary, Who rose and left the room. "Well?" he said interrogatively, motioning to her to be seated. " I'm & typewriter. I'm in Mrs. Wellingborough's office. I've just been typing something very interesting." " Very interesting to you, or very interesting to the public?" " I think it would be very interesting to the public. Butthis is quite confidential, isn't it?" " Absolutely, my dear young lady, absolutely." "Will you promise faithfully that you won't tell anybody?" "Of course. It is a professional confidence. Your secret will be quite safe with me." '.' And you won't make any use of what I tell you unless— unless " Unless we come to terms' for the information? No, I promise that. What is it all about?" " You know that Mrs. Wellingborough's office gets all the important things to type?" '" I believe I have heard so." " I daresay you read in one of the papers that we were typing tiro forthcoming Memoirs of the Earl of Bideford." Does that sound interesting?" It did. Tlfe memoirs of the Earl of Bideford had been long and eagerly awaited. Such .unauthorised biographies as had appeared had only whetted curiosity. It was well-known that the authentic reminiscences would be full of scandals and indiscretions. That was the reason why their publication had been delayed. To have the opportunity of culling the good things from them before they were published was indeed the chance of a life-time; and David Emery found it very hard to iiide his avid curiosity. " Certainly the memoirs should be interesting," he said. "What can you tell me about them?" " Onlv a part of them passed through myhands, but I think it was the best part, and I kept a copy." . "Which copy you are prepared to sell?" " Yes— the highest bidder." "You have it with you?" "This is it." " I see. Have you already had an offer?" " Yes, the Oracle of Dodona offered me £300, but I think it is worth more." " Indeed ! May I look at the manuscript, and see whether I think so?" "I couldn't possibly leave it." " But you have no objection to my glancing through it in your presence, I suppose?" "No. I am quite willing that you should do that," She untied the string, and handed the editor the sheets. He glanced over them with the rapid eye of experience, and their contents surpassed his best expectations. There were any number of new and piquant stories about celebrities'; stories about statesmen and churchmen ; stories of cabinet and palace intrigues; stories of the financial embarrassments of Prime Ministers, and of the love affairs and conjugal disagreements of members of royal housesa veritable feast of good things, the publication of which would inevitably be the talk of London for a twelvemonth. David Emery read eagerly to the end, and then: "How much?" he asked. "A thousand pounds." "That's rather stiff." " You'd pay that for a first-class serial story, and this is worth more to you." It was, and he knew it. This was the scoop of a century, and he had long made up*his mind that, when that scoop came in his way, he would not hagcle. "Very well," he said. ; " I will write the cheque, and you can leave the manuscript." But Miss Hitchcock hesitated. She must make one condition, she 6aid. " And what is that?" " Well, it's this, T don't think I'm doing anything wrong, or else, of course, I wouldn't do it." ~,,, , ;' . „.•*-■''■■•• "Naturally:" "* "•" * _' " But Mrs. Wellingborough mightn't like it, because she's very particular, and she'd be sure to think it was me, so I want you you to promise to give me time to pack and get out of the country. The printers haven't got the manuscripts yet, you know." Ho did know; for ho had thought that the printers might be worth approaching on this very subject. So there was no hurry. Indeed, it would be worth while to spend a little time in re-casting the material, so as to avoid difficulties with the law of copyright. "Will a week be long enough?" he asked. " Yes, thank you. A week will do." • "Then, it's settled. Shall I cross the cheque?" "Thanks, but as I'm leaving the country an open cheque will be more convenient." " Here it is. Good evening." " Good evening." i So Miss Hitchcock departed, and David Emerv summoned his secretary to rejoice with him. " I'll give this job to you." he said, after ho had explained, " because I know you'll do it properly. Don't use the actual text, for fear of an injunction. Paraphrase it. Spin it out. It's first-class copv, and there's enough of it to run through half-a-dozen, numbers-. To avoid risks we'd better do it here, and we'll burn the manuscript as soon as it's done." . The secretary smiled, and agreed, and kept his counsel as he was enjoined to do. A week passed, and the fateful day arrived on which the scoop of the century was to win the Delphic Oracle its laurels. David Emery was a late riser, as the editor of a daily morning paper is almost bound to be. On his breakfast table he found the number of the Delphic Oracle containing the first instalment of his " feature." It was splendidly subedited; he had seen to that himself. An entire page was given up to it. Nearly all the disclosures were sensational, and a good many of them were compromising to honoured reputations. In comparison with the Delphic Oracle, all the other morning papers were Mid and dull that day. The editor enjoyed his triumph in private over the tea and toast, and then set out to enjoy it in public, hailing a cab, and driving from his chambers in Mountstreet to the Reform Club. The early editions of the halfpenny evening papers were already out. David Emery read the posters from the window of his hansom as he passed. LORD BIDEFORD'S MEMOIRS. EXTRAORDINARY REVELATIONS. was the welcome legend that met his eye. Ho passed proudly on into the club smokingroom, prepared to be envied by strangers and congratulated by his friends. "Bring me the Westminster," he said to the waiter. The waiter brought it, and he unfolded it, and read: [ "We are' authorised by the executors of the late Earl of Bideford to state that the alleged extracts from his lordship's forthcoming memoirs are unauthentic and a baseless fabrication. The editor, in his anxiety to anticipate events before they occur, has evidently been the victim of a hoax." That was all, but it was enough to send David Emery running to the telephone. Ho rang up Mrs. Wellingborough, and inquired for Miss Laura Hitchcock. " No young woman of that name has ever been known at this office," was the disconcerting, reply. The next step was to call for a Post Office directory and look out Baalbec Road, Highbury. The road itself certainly existed, but it contained no house numbered 177. David Emery swore an oath, and flung the directory from him in his passion. He, the smartest editor in London, with all his American experience behind him, had overreached himself, and let himself be fooled by a chit of a girl. , " Good heavens! It's a put-up job, and she's planted a fake on me," he exclaimed and then added. " And to think that I never tumbled to it when she asked me to let her have a week to cover up her tracks.!" / And then he went away, suspecting that his secretary was " in it," "but knowing that, even if he were, nothing could be proved against him; and the secretary, after expressing sympathy and consternation, smiled a very quiet smile when the editor's .back .seas safely turned,. ' "