forth scouts all down the Oldcastle Road to put spurs into the procession, and the scouts returned, having seen nothing.  Pessimists glanced at the possibility of the whole procession having fallen into the canal at Cauldon Bridge.  The paper was printed, the train-parcels for Knype, Longshaw, Bursley, and Turnhill were despatched; the boys were waiting; the fingers of the clock in the publishing department were simply flying.  It had been arranged that the bulk of the Hanbridge edition, and in particular the first copies of it, should be sold by boys from the gilt chariots themselves.  The publisher hesitated for an awful moment, and then decided that he could wait no more, and that the boys must sell the papers in the usual way from the pavements and gutters.  There was no knowing what the Daily might not be doing.

And then Signal boys in dozens rushed forth paper-laden, but they were disappointed boys; they had thought to ride in gilt chariots, not to paddle in mud.  And almost the first thing they saw in Crown Square was the car of Jupiter in its glory, flying all the Signal colours; and other cars behind.  They did not rush now; they sprang, as from a catapult; and alighted like flies on the vehicles.  Men insisted on taking their papers from them and paying for them on the spot.  The boys were startled; they were entirely puzzled; but they had not the habit of refusing money.  And off went the procession to the music of its own band down the road to Knype, and perhaps a hundred boys on board, cheering.  The men in charge then performed a curious act:  they tore down all the Signal flagging, and replaced it with the emblem of the Daily.

So that all the great and enlightened public wandering home in crowds from the football match at Knype, had the spectacle of a Daily procession instead of a Signal procession, and could scarce believe their eyes.  And Dailys were sold in quantities from the cars.  At Knype Station the procession curved and returned to Hanbridge, and finally, after a multitudinous triumph, came to a stand with all its Daily bunting in front of the Signal offices; and Denry appeared from his lair.  Denry’s men fled with bundles.

“They’re an hour and a half late,” said Denry calmly to one of the proprietors of the Signal, who was on the pavement.  “But I’ve managed to get them here.  I thought I’d just look in to thank you for giving such a good feed to our lads.”

The telephones hummed with news of similar Daily processions in Longshaw and Bursley.  And there was not a high-class private bar in the district that did not tinkle with delighted astonishment at the brazen, the inconceivable effrontery of that card, Denry Machin.  Many people foresaw law-suits, but it was agreed that the Signal had begun the game of impudence in trapping the Daily lads so as to secure a holy calm for its much-trumpeted procession.