The Argosy, Volume XLIV — page 321: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

THE BEAT OF THE “PULSE” AND THE SCOOP OF THE “SPADE.” ways of getting on and off a vessel at quarantine, and Warburton understood them all. He saw everybody that there was to be seen, and returned to his office in high glee. The next day the papers in town published news reeking with stag- nation—there was nothing new, every- thing was rehashed. But the Daily Pulse, that enterpri- sing sheet, came out with a modest two column first page article entitled: IMPENDING BRAZILIAN REVOLUTION. EMISSARIES FROM REVOLTING PARTY ARRIVE HERE FROM RI0 DE JANEIRO. Come on SS. “ Senegambia,” Red ‘‘ K” Line, . To Buy Arms and Ammunition. The article went on to state, with characteristic modesty, that the re- porter of the Pulse had discovered, hid- den in the hold of the Senegambia, two dark featured gentlemen, Giovanni Pietro and Castilio Serrano by name, revolutionary agents despatched se- cretly to New York for the purpose of purchasing firearms and ammunition in illimitable quantities for the purpose of instituting and fostering a revolu- tion, the like of which all South Amer- ica had never seen. These gentlemen, in return probably for his kindness in aiding them to land, had talked effusively and enthusiastic- ally to him, and when he left them at their chosen hotel—location withheld —he was in complete possession of the story, which was one of startling inter- est. The Datly Pulse repeated it in the graphic manner in which Warburton had written it. The Pulse was an evening paper. The next morning the editor was deep in the perusal of the story when he felt a tap on his shoulder. It was Warburton. He appeared de- jected. | “ T went down there,” he began, with the air of a man who had simply done his duty; “I didn’t find anything at all. There were three passengers beside the crew. Nobody, captain and crew in- cluded, ever heard of a revolution. I showed them the small clipping you gave me—they said it was a lie, that there wouldn’t be a revolution in Brazil 317 in a thousand years. So, as I couldn’t find anything of any interest, 1—I just . came back. That’s all. “T thought I’d tell you about it,” he added listlessly. The editor pointed to the two header on the first page. “ But this!” he insisted. “Oh, well,” returned Warburton, “we just simply had to fill up, don’t you know. So I wrote that. It’s made up out of whole cloth.” The editor grinned. “Say, Warburton,” he commanded, “just rehash this and bring it up-to- date, and let’s get an extra out at once. It’s too good to be true, and so we must make the most of it. We'll have these other fellows guessin’, all right.” The extra was issued. The news had already gone like wild fire over the town. Brazilian stocks went down. Bread- stuffs and gunpowder went up. The boys filled the streets with the papers. The impending Brazilian revolution was the talk of every export merchant. The excitement calmed during the day, for cablegrams from Brazil report- ed everything quiet, and stated most positively that no revolution was im- pending. But the Daily Pulse pointed out that as the revolutionists were keeping everything a secret, and suc- cessfully, too, no official in Brazil could possibly know anything about it. This seemed plausible enough, and the public hung breathless between one report and the other. Up to this time, no other paper had printed anything upon the subject. They were laying low. “They've got something up their sleeves, I guess,” remarked the Pulse’s editor to Warburton; “ we'll see what it is.” / Two days later almost every news- paper in the city came out with the an- nouncement that it had ransacked every hotel and lodging house in the place, and had been unable to find Signors Pietro and Serrano anywhere. They had interviewed the Red K linc, and the captain of the Senegambia, and every other available man, and had been unable to find any trace of either revolutionist.