CHAPTER II 

PYRAMUS AND THISBE 

The two men turned up the street. They walked in silence. Arthur Mifflin was going over in his mind such outstanding events of the evening as he remembered--the nervousness, the relief of finding that he was gripping his audience, the growing conviction that he had made good; while Jimmy seemed to be thinking his own private thoughts. They had gone some distance before either spoke. 

"Who is she, Jimmy?" asked Mifflin. 

Jimmy came out of his thoughts with a start. 

"What's that?" 

"Who is she?" 

"I don't know what you mean." 

"Yes, you do! The sea air. Who is she?" 

"I don't know," said Jimmy, simply. 

"You don't know? Well, what's her name?" 

"I don't know." 

"Doesn't the Lusitania still print a passenger-list?" 

"She does." 

"And you couldn't find out her name in five days?" 

"No." 

"And that's the man who thinks he can burgle a house!" said Mifflin, despairingly. 

They had arrived now at the building on the second floor of which was Jimmy's flat. 

"Coming in?" said Jimmy. 

"Well, I was rather thinking of pushing on as far as the Park. I tell you, I feel all on wires." 

"Come in, and smoke a cigar. You've got all night before you if you want to do Marathons. I haven't seen you for a couple of months. I want you to tell me all the news." 

"There isn't any. Nothing happens in New York. The papers say things do, but they don't. However, I'll come in. It seems to me that you're the man with the news." 
Did Jimmy have any news to tell him about?
 It seems to me that you're the man with the news." 