The daily Alaskan., 1910-03-23

Ing tue t0pluA A"l NhS Nub k--5s that was Co reveal Bartelmy Ia-lss in his true light, was inter- rupted once more-Jhis time by the eI- trance of the grccnlsh hued face of the poet reporter, Powell.
 You sent for me. sIr?' asked the new scribe.
 "So you've covered a suicideE said Brand
 "Powow's" eyes rolled wildly He clasped his hands and his knees shook in his horror at what he had learned.
 "Oh. yessir-a terrible sight. l shall dre-e-e-a-m of it. sir, It would take a Dante, to write of 1t. Oh, I'-
 What was this girls uame:' asked Brand in matter of fact tones.
 Madeline"
 Madeline what"
 Her ust name" the poet asked dazedly. "I guess I don't remember. Oh. yes. it was JcuEs-Madcline JcukSw He spoke fcvcrishly
 Brand picked up the poets first newspaper story and began to read it. In spite of the high pressure of events that night in the Advance office, in spite of his ever present fear that Bar telmy and Dupuy might in some way persuade Nolan to order the sensational bribery story killed. this many sided young man found the time to bother with the fantastic young poet reporter ard his fantastic first article.
 Madeline JcnkS, chg commented Brand, turning over the pages Well the first place you mention her name is on page B."
 He plucked on the first two pages and threw them on the floor. Powell wiuced painfully at the massacre of his first reportorial offspring. Begin there" said Brand. Powell lunged downward Co rescue his first two pages, but Brand kicked them away from him. "Whered she livc:' he next asked. Powell clasped his hands and gazed plaiutively at the ceiling.
 "Ovtr a chop Suey cafe, sir
 Number and Strcet:'
 Two forty-three and a half West Pearl street"
 Brand threw away two more pages, Powell watching him auXiously the while.
 Put that next. Here. Madeline Jenks." Brand began to write. "on in mate of 243ls West Pearl street, What did she do:"
 "She destroyed herself utterly" the new reporter walled
 Brand went on writing,
 "Is she dcad:"
 "Yes, sir"
 "Shot and killed herself-whcn?'
 Tonight at 9 o'clock"
 Brand wrote on.
 Last night at 8 o'clock. Why:'
 Powell answered very intensely:
 "Oh. she could no longer face the ghasuiness of her existence. She knew she
 "She was weary of life in the streets"
 q don't blame her." Brand com mented to himself He turned to Powell. "Theres your story. Thirty words-you had 5000 And remember the story of the creation was told in coo words"
 Powell picked up the pages of his story which Brand had discarded and walked dcjcctedly away.
 Mac, Brand ordered, here's a dance hall suicide. Put it with local brevitics, will you?"
 Had Brand at this moment been able to see through the wall that separated the composing room from the hall he would have witnessed a sight that would have deprived him of some of the self possession that marked his present demeanor. A figure clad in an elaborate evening gown crcpt softly up the stairway, stood irresolutely at the landing and then turned into the managing editors office. Judith Bar telmy probably never looked more beautiful in her life than she did that night. A flush of excitement enhanced the soft allurement of her exquisite features, and the low cut neck of her sleeveless gown completed a picture of feminine lOyelineSs that innOcently