Three o'clock
The office was growing quieter . Weary news gatherers slipped into their coats and departed quietly . Copy readers and editors completed their tasks and went away . Three o'clock came , and Feehan was busy tabulating the statistics of some player in a far-off league , when the telephone rang . By some inspiration he knew a trail had been found and he reached for the instrument with more haste than he had shown , his seventh sense spurring him on . `` Hello ! Yes -- that you , Jimmy ? ''