CHAPTER XX.
CRIED A SENSATION.
In Chicago was a sheet--it could not be called a newspaper and assuredly was not a publication--that was rarely seen until late at night, and which always appeared to have been smuggled across the border-line of darkness into the light of the street lamps.

Ragged boys, carrying this sheet, hung about the theaters and cried a sensation when the play was done.

Their aim was to catch strangers, and to turn fiercely upon their importunity was not so effective as simply to say, "I live here." One night, as Henry and Ellen came out of a theater, they heard these ragged boys shouting the names of Witherspoon and Brooks.
"Gracious," said Ellen, with sudden weight on Henry's arm, "what does that mean ?" "It's nothing but a fake," he answered.
"But get a paper and see; won't you ?" "Yes, as soon as I can." They were so crowd-pressed that it was some time before they could reach one of the boys; and when they did, Ellen snatched a paper and attempted to read it by the light of the carriage lamp.
"Wait until we get home," he said.

"I tell you it amounts to nothing." "No, we will go to a restaurant," she replied.
The sensation was a half column of frightening head on a few inches of smeared body.

It declared that recent developments pointed to the fact that Witherspoon and Brooks knew more concerning the whereabouts of Dave Kittymunks than either of them cared to tell.