with no spiritual indigestion troubling him, mr. james chase, late of the new york chanticleer, now of the morning telephone, lighted a cigarette at the corner of harley street. the night was young and there was plenty of time for him to mature his plans. he had got what he called an "almighty scoop" in his pocket, indeed in the whole history of yellow journalism he could remember no greater. london dried up like a withered sponge and absolutely devoid of water! london with the liquid plague bursting from every subterranean pipe and fountain! the whirling headlines were revolving in chase's close-cropped head.

he reached the offices of the telephone at length and crawled up a dingy flight of stairs. without knocking he passed the barrier of a door marked "strictly private." the controlling genius of the telephone sat limp and bereft of coat and vest. his greeting of chase was not burdened with flattering politeness. he merely asked what the blazes he wanted. chase nodded sweetly and drew a large sheet of paper before him. after a little thought he dashed in half-a-dozen vigorous lines with a blue pencil.

"things pretty slack lately," he remarked amicably. "so hot that even the east end can't rise to its weekly brutal murder. still you get on to a pearl sometimes. grady, my boy, what do you think of that for a contents bill?"

he held the white sheet aloft so that the flare of the gas should fall upon it. the tired look faded from grady's eyes; he sat up alert and vigorous. here was the tonic that his fretted soul craved for.

"chapter and verse?" he said, speaking fast as if he had run far.

"i overheard a conversation between him and doctor langdale."

"got it all from derbyshire," chase replied. "i overheard a conversation between him and doctor longdale in his own house. also i managed to get hold of some notes to copy."

"it wants pluck," grady remarked, "a scare like that might ruin the empire; if——"

"none of that," chase cut in. "take it or leave it. if you haven't got the grit, sutton of the flashlight will jump at the chance."

he held the contents bill up to the light again and grady nodded. he was going to do this thing deliberately, once he was sure of his ground. he remarked cynically that it sounded like a fairy story.

"not a bit of it," chase, said briskly. "the plague breaks out on this barque and the crew know it. there's no ceremony with sailors of that class. they just lose their vessel and strike for the nearest land. knowing something of our quarantine laws they make themselves scarce as soon as they can. a local doctor calls the plague english cholera, too much bad fruit in very hot weather, and there you are."

grady nodded again. the sweltering heat of the place no longer affected him. down below the presses were already beginning to clang and boom. there was a constant clatter of feet along the passages.

"sit down right away," grady snapped. "make two columns of it. i'll get some statistics out for you."

chase peeled off his coat and got to work at once. grady found the book he required and proceeded to compile his facts therefrom.

the further he dived into the volume the more terribly grave the situation appeared.

the upper waters of the thames were poisoned beyond doubt. and the thames for some time past had been little better than a stagnant ditch under a fiery sun. let that water only find its way into the pipes under london and who could forecast the magnitude of the disaster? nearly all london derived its supply from the thames.

so far as grady could see from a swift examination of dr. richard siskey's valuable book, there were only two london water companies did not derive their stock from the thames—the new river company with its 40,000,000 gallons per diem, and the kent company with 20,000,000 gallons a day were the favoured ones.

but what of the other six sources of supply? chelsea, east london, west middlesex, grand junction, southwark, and vauxhall and lambeth were all dependent upon the thames. some 250,000,000 gallons of water daily were a matter of necessity for the areas supplied by the above-named companies. fancy that liquid poison flowing like a flood into the fast end from limehouse to west ham, and from bow to walthamstow, and nobody dreaming of the hideous danger! why, the great plague of london would be nothing to it.

and the west end would be no better off. from sunbury to mayfair those connected with the grand junction supply would suffer. so far as london proper was concerned, only those fortunate ones who were joined to the new river mains would be exempt from peril, and, even then, what chance has a sanitary area surrounded by pestilent districts? if it were not already too late, the only chance was to cut off the contaminated water supply, and then leave four-fifths of the population of london absolutely without water under a heat that seemed to deprive one of vital power.

the further grady read on the more he was impressed. if he could get this dread information into the hands of the people before it was too late, he felt that he would be playing the part of a benefactor. desperate as the situation looked, the telephone might yet save it. professor darbyshire had no right to hold up such a secret when he should have been taking measures to avert the threatened danger. it never occurred to grady that darbyshire had had this calamity before his eyes for years, and that his genius had found a way to nullify the evil.

"the figures are pretty bad," grady muttered. "upon my word, it makes me creepy to think about it. got your stuff ready? want anything?"

"anything in the way of food, you mean?" chase asked.

"that's it. no? so much the better; because when that copy goes upstairs not a soul leaves the premises till the paper has gone to bed."

an hour later the presses were roaring: presently huge parcels of damp sheets were vomited into the street. under the glare of the arc lamps perspiring porters ghostly blue and spectral vans waited. the whole street was busy with the hum of high noon. and all the while, a little way beyond the radius of purple arcs, london slept....

london awoke presently and prepared for the day's work. there was no sign of fear or panic yet. a copy of the telephone lay on a hundred thousand odd breakfast tables, news in tabloid form for busy men to read. as the sheets were more or less carelessly opened the eye was arrested by the scare heads on page 5. nothing else seemed to be visible:—

the poisoned thames

millions of plague germs flowing down into london. bacillus of bubonic plague in the river. new river and kent companies alone can supply pure water. stupendous discovery by professor darbyshire. death in your breakfast cup to-day. shun it as you would poison. if you are not connected with either of the above companies, or if you have no private supply.

cut off your water at the main at once!

what did it all mean? nobody seemed to know. at eight o'clock in the morning london's pulse was calm and regular. an hour later it was writhing like some great reptile in the throes of mortal pain.