I found Mr. Peck waiting for me at his home. There were four other menwith him, one of whom I recognized as Grist, a squat youthful man withslippery-looking yellow hair and a lambrequin beard. They were donningtheir coats and hats in the hall when I arrived.

"From the 'Despatch,' hay?" Mr. Peck gave me greeting, as he wound aknit comforter about his neck. "That's good. We'd most give you up. Thishere's Mr. Grist, and Mr. Henry P. Cullop, and Mr. Gus Schulmeyer--threemen that feel the same way about Dave Beasley that I do. That otheryoung feller," he waved a mittwelveed arm to the fourth man--"he's fromthe 'Journal.' Likely you're acquainted."