Five Mile Beach weekly journal., 1918-08-16

scoop. II was JDe mereSL
successes mostly are, if we knew the
truth of them. One evening he was
walking along one of the fashionable
residence streets when suddenly he
was startled by a scream, and looking
up he saw a woman with the wild
eyes and cunning of a maniac sitting
on the very outer coping Of the walls
of a tall house, where she waved her
arms gleefully, and leaned dizzily for
ward to peer into the street below.
In an instant all the mystery Of the
drawn blinds, and jealousy guarded
doors of the mansion, at which many
had marveled, was revealed. Here
was one of those family tragedies, at
which the world guesses-some poor
crazed creature, living out her life
within padded walls, who had escaped
from her keepers, and with that in
stinct of flight from a prison which
survives all reason, was preparing to
take a fatal leap into the street be-
low. The street crowd that seems to
spring from the very pavement when
ever anything unusual happens, had
already gathered. They could see the
frantic gestures of the keeper vainly
trying to call the woman, but at every
movement, the crouching creatures fig
ure on the perilous edge made a mo-
ton as If to cast herself down, and
for very fear the attendant dare not
approach her. The great front door
of the house was flung suddenly open,
and terrified servants rushed about
vainly seeking assistance, but none
knew what to do, and the crowd be-
low could only wait breathlessly for
the impending tragedy.
1t had taken Philip but an instant
to realize the scene, and with a sud-
den inspiration he dashed past the
servant in the doorway, and up the
stairway. The crazed woman was still
young and pretty. A dainty silken
robe, and a flmy lace scarf blew about
her. Evidently she was a woman Of
fashion and society, so the thoughts
flew through his mind as he dashed
up the three flights of steps and
through the open door in the roof
through which she had evidently
climbed. He knew well enough he
might be going to his death, but he
only smiled a little grimly, and moved
on towards the pathetic figure sway
ing on the ledge of the wall. The
woman looked up at the sound of an
approaching step. She saw a hand
some young young man such
as she vaguely remembered in that
world that was not all horrible dreams
and padded walls-coming toward
her. When he reached her he made a
courtly bow, and offered her his arm,
and without one protest, mechanically,
naturally, as if they had been on the
ballroom floor, she arose and put her
hand within it, and together they start
ed toward the house, treading the
narrow ledge, whose outer edge was
death. A single push of the crazed
woman's feeble hand and mutilation
waited for them below, but there was
not a tremble in the mans voice as he
asked her:
sand what did you think OF the new
tenor this winter at the operaT"
In the street below the crowd stood
silent, tense with excitement, until
they saw Philip hand the woman, still
with cOurtly grace, through the door
in the roof, and then it broke into tu-
multuous cheering.
AS for Philip, his one thought was
to get to the office. His part In the
adventure appealed to him not at all.
1t was what any fellow would nave
done, he thought, and he could leave
that out, but he realized the value of
the story. The secret Of the darken-
ed mansion. The closed blinds. The
beautiful woman, with her wild, mad
eyes-it vas full of color, it was pic
turesque. Besides it was a scoop. No
other reporter had been there, and a
scoop is as dear to the newspaper
heart as a first-born to a mother. There
was still some of the excitement of the
adventure tingling in his veins. and
as he wrote he felt his description
was vivid, and he turned it in to the
city editor with the calm and unmixed
satisfaction Of knowing that it was
good copy"
1uSIS L, perhaps, AO Juliet joy III
life equal to that of the young
writer who reads hisA5wn productions
in type, and Philips first con
scious act the next morning was to
reach for the paper. He had expected
his story to be given some prominent
place; perhaps to be featured. To his
dismay it was not wen printed. He
looked the paper over twice to have
suspicion deepen into certainty. 1t
had been left out. How long he might
have stared at the paper in bewilder-
ment he never knew, but that two let
tiers caught his eyes, as they lay upon
his table. One was from the city ed
itor of the Asterisk, and he pounced
upon it for an explanation.
"Dear Van Vivier," he read, "sorry,
but your scoop was scooped. The dis
treSSed damSel Won rescued is old La