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the weeks that followed Tregan entered the backwater of emotional calm. The pornographic atmosphere of the tabloid was more than counterbalanced by the air of alertness and alert competition that permeated the place.
The little city editor at first was a thorn in Tregan’s side. The rank filthiness of the man’s conversation offended Tregan and the reek of bad whiskey assaulted his nose. Their first real clash came on a quiet Sunday afternoon when news was as scarce as hen’s teeth. The deadline on the bulldog edition neared with no story fit for the front page streamer. True enough Mussolini had been on a rampage, a King in the Balkans was near death from complications following the bite of a pet monkey, and a scientist had discovered a new planet. But none of these could be writt
