The Man Called Gilray by Fred M. White

A grim smile flickered over Temple's face. The idea of anybody attempting a burglary at a newspaper office amused him. It would be the very last place in the world where the midnight marauder had any chance of obtaining any adequate return for his trouble. And then in his mind's eye Temple could see himself making quite an interesting little story out of the incident. He could tell it at the meetings of the Press Club, and later on make a smart special of it for the 'Herald.'

He stood there contemplating the unconscious thief who was searching among the papers with a certain amount of feverish haste. He had turned out two drawers apparently without success, and was now trying to pick the lock of another with something exceedingly primitive in the way of a tool. It needed no practised eye to see that the intruder was an amateur at the game.