[Illustration: "THEN IT'S ALL LIES! LIES AND MURDER!"]

THE CLARION

BY

SAMUEL HOPKINS ADAMS

WITH ILLUSTRATIONS BY W. D. STEVENS

_Published October 1914_

TO THE MEMORY OF MY FATHER MYRON ADAMS WHO LIVED AND DIED A SOLDIER OFIDEALS THIS BOOK IS REVERENTLY INSCRIBED

CONTENTS

 I. THE ITINERANT

 II. OUR LEADING CITIZEN

 III. ESMÉ

 IV. THE SHOP

 V. THE SCION

 VI. LAUNCHED

 VII. THE OWNER

 VIII. A PARTNERSHIP

 IX. GLIMMERINGS

 X. IN THE WAY OF TRADE

 XI. THE INITIATE

 XII. THE THIN EDGE

 XIII. NEW BLOOD

 XIV. THE ROOKERIES

 XV. JUGGERNAUT

 XVI. THE STRATEGIST

 XVII. REPRISALS

 XVIII. MILLY

 XIX. DONNYBROOK

 XX. THE LESSER TEMPTING

 XXI. THE POWER OF PRINT

 XXII. PATRIOTS

 XXIII. CREEPING FLAME

 XXIV. A FAILURE IN TACTICS

 XXV. STERN LOGIC

 XXVI. THE PARTING

 XXVII. THE GREATER TEMPTING

 XXVIII. "WHOSE BREAD I EAT"

 XXIX. CERTINA CHARLEY

 XXX. ILLUMINATION

 XXXI. THE VOICE OF THE PROPHET

 XXXII. THE WARNING

 XXXIII. THE GOOD FIGHT

 XXXIV. VOX POPULI

 XXXV. TEMPERED METAL

 XXXVI. THE VICTORY

 XXXVII. MCGUIRE ELLIS WAKES UP

 XXXVIII. THE CONVERT

ILLUSTRATIONS

 "THEN IT'S ALL LIES! LIES AND MURDER!"

 HELP AND CURE ARE AT THEIR BECK AND CALL

 "KILL IT, " SHE URGED SOFTLY

 "DON'T GO NEAR HIM. DON'T LOOK"

THE CLARION

CHAPTER I

THE ITINERANT

Between two flames the man stood, overlooking the crowd. A soft breeze, playing about the torches, sent shadows billowing across the massed folkon the ground. Shrewdly set with an eye to theatrical effect, thesephares of a night threw out from the darkness the square bulk of theman's figure, and, reflecting garishly upward from the naked hemlock ofthe platform, accentuated, as in bronze, the bosses of the face, andgleamed deeply in the dark, bold eyes. Half of Marysville buzzed andchattered in the park-space below, together with many representatives ofthe farming country near by, for the event had been advertised withskilled appeal: cf. The "Canoga County Palladium, " April 15, 1897, page4. 

The occupant of the platform, having paused, after a self-introductorytrumpeting of professional claims, was slowly and with an eye tooratorical effect moistening lips and throat from a goblet at his elbow. Now, ready to resume, he raised a slow hand in an indescribable gestureof mingled command and benevolence. The clamor subsided to a murmur, over which his voice flowed and spread like oil subduing vexed waters. 

"Pain. Pain. Pain. The primal curse, the dominant tragedy of life. Whoamong you, dear friends, but has felt it? You men, slowly torn upon therack of rheumatism; you women, with the hidden agony gnawing at yourbreast" (his roving regard was swift, like a hawk, to mark down thesudden, involuntary quiver of a faded slattern under one of thetorches); "all you who have known burning nights and pallid mornings, Ioffer you r-r-r-release!"

On the final word his face lighted up as from an inner fire ofinspiration, and he flung his arms wide in an embracing benediction. Thecrowd, heavy-eyed, sodden, wondering, bent to him as the torch-firesbent to the breath of summer. With the subtle sense of the man whowrings his livelihood from human emotions, he felt the moment of hismastery approaching. Was it fully come yet? Were his fish securely inthe net? Betwixt hovering hands he studied his audience. 

His eyes stopped with a sense of being checked by the steady regard ofone who stood directly in front of him only a few feet away; asolid-built, crisply outlined man of forty, carrying himself with apractical erectness, upon whose face there was a rather disturbinghalf-smile. The stranger's hand was clasped in that of a little girl, wide-eyed, elfin, and lovely. 

"Release, " repeated the man of the torches. "Blessed release from yourtorments. Peace out of pain. "

The voice was of wonderful quality, rich and unctuous, the labialsdropping, honeyed, from the lips. It wooed the crowd, lured it, enmeshedit. But the magician had, a little, lost confidence in the power of hisspell. His mind dwelt uneasily upon his well-garbed auditor. What was hedoing there, with his keen face and worldly, confident carriage, amidstthose clodhoppers? Was there peril in his presence? Your predatorycreature hunts ever with fear in his heart. 

"Guardy, " the voice of the elfin child rang silvery in the silence, asshe pressed close to her companion. "Guardy, is he preaching?"

"Yes, my dear little child. " The orator saw his opportunity and swoopedupon it, with a flash of dazzling teeth from under his pliant lips. "This sweet little girl asks if I am preaching. I thank her for theword. Preaching, indeed! Preaching a blessed gospel, for this world ofpain and suffering; a gospel of hope and happiness and joy. I offer you, here, now, this moment of blessed opportunity, the priceless boon ofhealth. It is within reach of the humblest and poorest as well as themillionaire. The blessing falls on all like the gentle rain fromheaven. "

His hands, outstretched, quivering as if to shed the promised balm, slowly descended below the level of the platform railing. Behind thetricolored cheesecloth which screened him from the waist down somethingstirred. The hands ascended again into the light. In each was a bottle. The speaker's words came now sharp, decisive, compelling. 

"Here it is! Look at it, my friends. The wonder of the scientific world, the never-failing panacea, the despair of the doctors. All diseasesyield to it. It revivifies the blood, reconstructs the nerves, drivesout the poisons which corrupt the human frame. It banishes pain, sickness, weakness, and cheats death of his prey. Oh, grave, where isthy victory? Oh, death, where is thy power? Overcome by my marvelousdiscovery! Harmless as water! Sweet on the tongue as honey! Potent as amiracle! By the grace of Heaven, which has bestowed this secret upon me, I have saved five thousand men, women, and children from sure doom, inthe last three years, through my swift and infallible remedy, ProfessorCertain's Vitalizing Mixture; as witness my undenied affidavit, sworn tobefore Almighty God and a notary public and published in every newspaperin the State. "

Wonder and hope exhaled in a sigh from the assemblage. People began tostir, to shift from one foot to another, to glance about them nervously. Professor Certain had them. It needed but the first thrust of hand intopocket to set the avalanche of coin rolling toward the platform. Fromnear the speaker a voice piped thinly:--

"Will it ease my cough?"

The orator bent over, and his voice was like a benign hand upon the browof suffering. 

"Ease it? You'll never know you had a cough after one bottle. "

"We-ell, gimme--"

"Just a moment, my friend. " The Professor was not yet ready. "Put yourdollar back. There's enough to go around. Oh, Uncle Cal! Step up here, please. "

An old negro, very pompous and upright, made his way to the steps andmounted. 

"You all know old Uncle Cal Parks, my friends. You've seen him hobblingand hunching around for years, all twisted up with rheumatics. He cameto me yesterday, begging for relief, and we began treatment with theVitalizing Mixture right off. Look at him now. Show them what you cando, uncle. "

Wild-eyed, the old fellow gazed about at the people. "Glory!Hallelujah!" Emotional explosives left over from the previous year'srevival burst from his lips. He broke into a stiff, but prankishdouble-shuffle. 

"I'd like to try some o' that on my old mare, " remarked afacetious-minded rustic, below, and a titter followed. 

"Good for man or beast, " retorted the Professor with smiling amiability. "You've seen what the Vitalizing Mixture has done for this poor oldcolored man. It will do as much or more for any of you. And the price isOnly One Dollar!" The voice double-capitalized the words. "Don't, forthe sake of one hundred little cents, put off the day of cure. Don'twaste your chance. Don't let a miserable little dollar stand between youand death. Come, now. Who's first?"

The victim of the "cough" was first, closely followed by the mare-owningwit. Then the whole mass seemed to be pressing forward, at once. Likethose of a conjurer, the deft hands of the Professor pushed in and outof the light, snatching from below the bottles handed up to him, andtaking in the clinking silver and fluttering greenbacks. And still theycame, that line of grotesques, hobbling, limping, sprawling their way tothe golden promise. Never did Pied Piper flute to creatures morebemused. Only once was there pause, when the dispenser of balm heldaloft between thumb and finger a cart-wheel dollar. 

"Phony!" he said curtly, and flipped it far into the darkness. "Don'tany more of you try it on, " he warned, as the thwarted profferer of thecounterfeit sidled away, and there was, in his tone, a dominantferocity. 

Presently the line of purchasers thinned out. The Vitalizing Mixture hadexhausted its market. But only part of the crowd had contributed to thelevy. Mainly it was the men, whom the "spiel" had lured. Now for thewomen. The voice, the organ of a genuine artist, took on a new cadence, limpid and tender. 

"And now, we come to the sufferings of those who bear pain with thefortitude of the angels. Our women-folk! How many here are hiding thatdreadful malady, cancer? Hiding it, when help and cure are at their beckand call. Lady, " he bent swiftly to the slattern under the torch and hisaccents were a healing effluence, "with my soothing, balmy oils, you cancure yourself in three weeks, or your money back. "

"I do' know haow you knew, " faltered the woman. "I ain't told no oneyet. Kinder hoped it wa'n't thet, after all. "

He brooded over her compassionately. "You've suffered needlessly. Soonit would have been too late. The Vitalizing Mixture will keep up yourstrength, while the soothing, balmy oils drive out the poison, and healup the sore. Three and a half for the two. Thank you. And is there somesuffering friend who you can lead to the light?"

The woman hesitated. She moved out to the edge of the crowd, and spokeearnestly to a younger woman, whose comely face was scarred with thechiseling of sleeplessness. 

"Joe, he wouldn't let me, " protested the younger woman. "He'd say 't wasa waste. "

"But ye'll be cured, " cried the other in exaltation. "Think of it. Ye'llsleep again o' nights. "

The woman's hand went to her breast, with a piteous gesture. "Oh, myGod! D'yeh think it could be true?" she cried. 

"Accourse it's true! Didn't yeh hear whut he sayed? Would he dast swearto it if it wasn't true?"

Tremulously the younger woman moved forward, clutching her shawl abouther. 

"Could yeh sell me half a bottle to try it, sir?" she asked. 

The vender shook his head. "Impossible, my dear madam. Contrary to myfixed professional rule. But, I'll tell you what I will do. If, in threedays you're not better, you can have your money back. "

She began painfully to count out her coins. Reaching impatiently for hisprice, the Professor found himself looking straight into the eyes of thewell-dressed stranger. 

"Are you going to take that woman's money?"

The question was low-toned but quite clear. An uneasy twitching besetthe corners of the professional brow. For just the fraction of a second, the outstretched hand was stayed. Then:--

"That's what I am. And all the others I can get. Can I sell _you_ abottle?"

Behind the suavity there was the impudence of the man who is a littlealarmed, and a little angry because of the alarm. 

"Why, yes, " said the other coolly. "Some day I might like to know what'sin the stuff. "

"Hand up your cash then. And here you are--Doctor. It _is_ 'Doctor, 'ain't it?"

"You've guessed it, " returned the stranger. 

[Illustration: HELP AND CURE ARE AT THEIR BECK AND CALL. ]

At once the platform peddler became the opportunist orator again. 

"A fellow practitioner, in my audience, ladies and gentlemen; and doingme the honor of purchasing my cure. Sir, " the splendid voice rose andsoared as he addressed his newest client, "you follow the noblest ofcallings. My friends, I would rather heal a people's ills than determinetheir destinies. "

Giving them a moment to absorb that noble sentiment, he passed on to hisnext source of revenue: Dyspepsia. He enlarged and expatiated upon itssymptoms until his subjects could fairly feel the grilling at the pit oftheir collective stomach. One by one they came forward, the yellow-eyed, the pasty-faced feeders on fried breakfasts, snatchers of hastynoon-meals, sleepers on gorged stomachs. About them he wove the glamourof his words, the arch-seducer, until the dollars fidgeted in theirpockets. 

"Just one dollar the bottle, and pain is banished. Eat? You can eat acord of hickory for breakfast, knots and all, and digest it in an hour. The Vitalizing Mixture does it. "

Assorted ills came next. In earlier spring it would have been pneumoniaand coughs. Now it was the ailments that we have always with us:backache, headache, indigestion and always the magnificent promise. Sohe picked up the final harvest, gleaning his field. 

"Now, "--the rotund voice sunk into the confidential, sympatheticregister, yet with a tone of saddened rebuke, --"there are topics thatthe lips shrink from when ladies are present. But I have a word for youyoung men. Young blood! Ah, young blood, and the fire of life! For thatwe pay a penalty. Yet we must not overpay the debt. To such as wish myprivate advice--_private_, I say, and sacredly confidential--" He brokeoff and leaned out over the railing. "Thousands have lived to bless thename of Professor Certain, and his friendship, at such a crisis;thousands, my friends. To such, I shall be available for consultationfrom nine to twelve to-morrow, at the Moscow Hotel. Remember the timeand place. Men only. Nine to twelve. And all under the inviolable sealof my profession. "

Some quality of unexpressed insistence in the stranger--or was it thespeaker's own uneasiness of spirit?--brought back the roving, brillianteyes to the square face below. 

"A little blackmail on the side, eh?"

The words were spoken low, but with a peculiar, abrupt crispness. This, then, was direct challenge. Professor Certain tautened. Should he acceptit, or was it safer to ignore this pestilent disturber? Craft and angerthrust opposing counsels upon him. But determination of the issue camefrom outside. 

"Lemme through. "

From the outskirts of the crowd a rawboned giant forced his way inward. He was gaunt and unkempt as a weed in winter. 

"Here's trouble, " remarked a man at the front. "Allus comes with aHardscrabbler. "

"What's a Hardscrabbler?" queried the well-dressed man. 

"Feller from the Hardscrabble Settlement over on Corsica Lake. Toughlot, they are. Make their own laws, when they want any; run their placeto suit themselves. Ain't much they ain't up to. Hoss-stealin', barn-burnin', boot-leggin', an' murder thrown in when--"

"Be you the doctor was to Corsica Village two years ago?" The newcomer'shigh, droning voice cut short the explanation. 

"I was there, my friend. Testimonials and letters from some of yourleading citizens attest the work--"

"You give my woman morpheean. " There was a hideous edged intonation inthe word, like the whine of some plaintive and dangerous animal. 

"My friend!" The Professor's hand went forth in repressive deprecation. "We physicians give what seems to us best, in these cases. "

"A reg'lar doctor from Burnham seen her, " pursued the Hardscrabbler, inthe same thin wail, moving nearer, but not again raising his eyes to theother's face. Instead, his gaze seemed fixed upon the man's shiningexpanse of waistcoat. "He said you doped her with the morpheean you giveher. "

"So your chickens come home to roost, Professor, " said the stranger, ina half-voice. 

"Impossible, " declared the Professor, addressing the Hardscrabbler. "Youmisunderstood him. "

"They took my woman away. They took her to the 'sylum. "

Foreboding peril, the people nearest the uncouth visitor had drawn away. Only the stranger held his ground; more than held it, indeed, for heedged almost imperceptibly nearer. He had noticed a fleck of red on thematted beard, where the lip had been bitten into. Also he saw that theProfessor, whose gaze had so timorously shifted from his, was intent, recognizing danger; intent, and unafraid before the threat. 

"She used to cry fer it, my woman. Cry fer the morpheean like a baby. "He sagged a step forward. "She don't haff to cry no more. She's dead. "

Whence had the knife leapt, to gleam so viciously in his hand? Almost asswiftly as it was drawn, the healer had snatched one of the heavytorch-poles from its socket. Almost, not quite. The fury leapt andstruck; struck for that shining waistcoat, upon which his regard hadconcentrated, with an upward lunge, the most surely deadly blow known tothe knife-fighter. Two other movements coincided, to the instant. Fromthe curtain of cheesecloth the slight form of a boy shot upward, withbrandished arms; and the square-built man reached the Hardscrabbler'sjaw with a powerful and accurate swing. There was a scream of pain, aroar from the crowd, and an answering bellow from the quack in midair, for he had launched his formidable bulk over the rail, to plunge, acrushing weight, upon the would-be murderer, who lay stunned on thegrass. For a moment the avenger ground him, with knees and fists; thenwas up and back on the platform. Already the city man had gained theflooring, and was bending above the child. There was a sprinkle of bloodon the bright, rough boards. 

"Oh, my God! Boy-ee! Has he killed you?"

"No: he isn't killed, " said the stranger curtly. "Keep the people back. Lift down that torch. "

The Professor wavered on his legs, grasping at the rail for support. 

"You _are_ a doctor?" he gasped. 

"Yes. "

"Can you save him? Any money--"

"Set the torch here. "

"Oh, Boyee, Boyee!" The great, dark man had dropped to his knees, hisface a mask of agony. 

"Oh, the devil!" said the physician disgustedly. "You're no help. Cleara way there, some of you, so that I can get him to the hotel. " Then, tothe other. "Keep quiet. There's no danger. Only a flesh wound, but he'sfainted. "

Carefully he swung the small form to his shoulder, and forced a waythrough the crowd, the little girl, who had followed him to theplatform, composedly trotting along in his wake, while theHardscrabbler, moaning from the pain of two broken ribs, was led away bya constable. Some distance behind, the itinerant wallowed like a drunkenman, muttering brilliant bargain offers of good conduct to Almighty God, if "Boyee" were saved to him. 

Once in the little hotel room, the physician went about his businesswith swift decisiveness, aided by the mite of a girl, who seemed to knowby instinct where to be and what to do in the way of handling towels, wash-basin, and the other simple paraphernalia required. ProfessorCertain was unceremoniously packed off to the drug store for bandages. When he returned the patient had recovered consciousness. 

"Where's Dad?" he asked eagerly. "Did he hurt Dad?"

"No, Boyee. " The big man was at the bedside in two long, velvety-footedsteps. Struck by the extenuation of the final "y" in the term, thephysician for the first time noted a very faint foreign accent, themerest echo of some alien tongue. "Are you in pain, Boyee?"

"Not very much. It doesn't matter. Why did he want to kill you?"

"Never mind that, now, " interrupted the physician. "We'll get thatscratch bound up, and then, young man, you'll go to sleep. "

Pallid as a ghost, the itinerant held the little hand during the processof binding the wound. "Boyee" essayed to smile, at the end, and closedhis eyes. 

"Now we can leave him, " said the physician. "Poppet, curl up in thatchair and keep watch on our patient while this gentleman and I have alittle talk in the outer room. "

With a brisk nod of obedience and comprehension, the elfin girl took herplace, while the two men went out. 

"What do I owe you?" asked Professor Certain, as soon as the door hadclosed. 

"Nothing. "

"Oh, that won't do. "

"It will have to do. "

"Courtesy of the profession? But--"

The other laughed grimly, cutting him short. "So you call yourself anM. D. , do you?"

"Call myself? I am. Regular degree from the Dayton Medical College. " Hesleeked down his heavy hair with a complacent hand. 

The physician snorted. "A diploma-mill. What did you pay for your M. D. ?"

"One hundred dollars, and it's as good as your four-year P. And S. Course or any other, for my purposes, " retorted the other, withhardihood. "What's more, I'm a member of the American Academy ofSurgeons, with a special diploma from St. Luke's Hospital of Niles, Michigan, and a certificate of fellowship in the National MedicalScientific Fraternity. Pleased to meet a brother practitioner. " Thesneer was as palpable as it was cynical. 

"You've got all the fake trimmings, haven't you? Do those things pay?"

"Do they! Better than your game, I'll bet. Name your own fee, now, anddon't be afraid to make it strong. "

"I'm not in regular practice. I'm a naval surgeon on leave. Give yourmoney to those poor devils you swindled to-night. I don't like the smellof it. "

"Oh, you can't rile me, " returned the quack. "I don't blame you regularsfor getting sore when you see us fellows culling out coin from underyour very noses, that you can't touch. "

"Cull it, and welcome. But don't try to pass it on to me. "

"Well, I'd like to do something for you in return for what you did formy son. "

"Would you? Pay me in words, then, if you will and dare. What is yourVitalizing Mixture?"

"That's my secret. "

"Liquor? Eh?"

"Some. "

"Morphine?"

"A little. "

"And the rest syrup and coloring matter, I suppose. A fine vitalizer!"

"It gets the money, " retorted the other. 

"And your soothing, balmy oils for cancer? Arsenious acid, I suppose, toeat it out?"

"What if it is? As well that as anything else--for cancer. "

"Humph! I happened to see a patient you'd treated, two years ago, bythat mild method. It wasn't cancer at all; only a benign tumor. Yoursoothing oils burned her breast off, like so much fire. She's dead now. "

"Oh, we all make mistakes. "

"But we don't all commit murder. "

"Rub it in, if you like to. You can't make me mad. Just the same, if itwasn't for what you've done for Boyee--"

"Well, what about 'Boyee'?" broke in his persecutor quite undisturbed. "He seems a perfectly decent sort of human integer. "

The bold eyes shifted and softened abruptly. "He's the big thing in mylife. "

"Bringing him up to the trade, eh?"

"No, damn you!"

"Damn me, if you like. But don't damn him. He seems to be a bit too goodfor this sort of thing. "

"To tell you the truth, " said the other gloomily, "I was going to quitat the end of this year, anyway. But I guess this ends it now. Accidentslike this hurt business. I guess this closes my tour. "

"Is the game playing out?"

"Not exactly! Do you know what I took out of this town last night? Onehundred and ten good dollars. And to-morrow's consultation is good forfifty more. That 'spiel' of mine is the best high-pitch in thebusiness. "

"High-pitch?"

"High-pitching, " explained the quack, "is our term for the talk, thepatter. You can sell sugar pills to raise the dead with a good-enoughhigh-pitch. I've done it myself--pretty near. With a voice like mine, it's a shame to drop it. But I'm getting tired. And Boyee ought to haveschooling. So, I'll settle down and try a regular proprietary trade withthe Mixture and some other stuff I've got. I guess I can make printer'sink do the work. And there's millions in it if you once get a start. More than you can say of regular practice. I tried that, too, before Itook up itinerating. " He grinned. "A midge couldn't have lived on myreceipts. By the way, " he added, becoming grave, "what was your game incutting in on my 'spiel'?"

"Just curiosity. "

"You ain't a government agent or a medical society investigator?"

The physician pulled out a card and handed it over. It read, "MarkElliot, Surgeon, U. S. N. "

"Don't lose any sleep over me, " he advised, then went to open the outerdoor, in response to a knock. 

A spectacled young man appeared. "They told me Professor Certain washere, " he said. 

"What is it?" asked the quack. 

"About that stabbing. I'm the editor of the weekly 'Palladium. '"

"Glad to see you, Mr. Editor. Always glad to see the Press. Of courseyou won't print anything about this affair?"

The visitor blinked. "You wouldn't hardly expect me to kill the story. "

"Not? Does anybody else but me give you page ads. ?"

"Well, of course, we try to favor our advertisers, " said the spectacledone nervously. 

"That's business! I'll be coming around again next year, if this thingis handled right, and I think my increased business might warrant adouble page, then. "

"But the paper will have to carry something about it. Too many folks sawit happen. "

"Just say that a crazy man tried to interrupt the lecture of ProfessorAndrew Leon Certain, the distinguished medical savant, and was locked upby the authorities. "

"But the knifing. How is the boy?"

"Somebody's been giving you the wrong tip. There wasn't any knife, "replied the Professor with a wink. "You may send me two hundred andfifty copies of the paper. And, by the way, do what you can to get thatpoor lunatic off easy, and I'll square the bills--with commission. "

"I'll see the Justice first thing in the morning, " said the editor withenthusiasm. "Much obliged, Professor Certain. And the article will beall right. I'll show you a proof. It mightn't be a bad notion for you todrop in at the jail with me, and see Neal, the man that stab--thatinterrupted the meeting, before he gets talking with any one else. "

"So it mightn't. But what about my leaving, now?" Professor Certainasked of the physician. 

"Go ahead. I'll keep watch. "

Shortly after the itinerant had gone out with the exponent of free anduntrammeled journalism, the boy awoke and looked about with feveredanxiety for his father. The little nurse was beside him at once. 

"You mustn't wiggle around, " she commanded. "Do you want a drink?"

Gratefully he drank the water which she held to his lips. 

"Where's my Dad?" he asked. 

"He's gone out. He'll come back pretty soon. Lie down. "

He sank back, fixing his eyes upon her. "Will you stay with me till hecomes?"

She nodded. "Does it hurt you much?" Her cool and tiny fingers touchedhis forehead, soothingly. "You're very hot. I think you've got a littlefever. "

"Don't take your hand away. " His eyes closed, but presently openedagain. "I think you're very pretty, " he said shyly. 

"Do you? I like to have people think I'm pretty. Uncle Guardy scolds mefor it. Not really, you know, but just pretending. He says I'm vain. "

"Is that your uncle, the gentleman that fixed my arm?"

"Yes. I call him Uncle Guardy because he's my guardian, too. "

"I like him. He looks good. But I like you better. I like you a lot. "

"Everybody does, " replied the girl with dimpling complacency. "Theycan't help it. It's because I'm me!"

For a moment he brooded. "Am I going to die?" he asked quite suddenly. 

"Die? Of course not. "

"Would you be sorry if I did?"

"Yes. If you died you couldn't like me any more. And I want everybody tolike me and think me pretty. "

"I'm glad I'm not. It would be tough on Dad. "

"My Uncle Guardy thinks your father is a bad man, " said the fairy, notwithout a spice of malice. 

Up rose the patient from his pillow. "Then I hate him. He's a liar. MyDad is the best man in the world. " A brighter hue than fever burnt inhis cheeks, and his hand went to his shoulder. "I won't have hisbandages on me, " he cried. 

But she had thrown herself upon his arm, and pushed him back. "Oh, don't! Please don't, " she besought. "Uncle Guardy told me to keep youperfectly quiet. And I've made you sit up--"

"What's all this commotion?" demanded Dr. Elliot brusquely, from thedoor. 

"You said my father was a bad man, " cried the outraged patient. 

"Lie back, youngster. " The physician's hand was gentle, but very firm. "I don't recall saying any such thing. Where did you get it?"

"I said you _thought_ he was a bad man, " declared the midget girl. "Iknow you do. You wouldn't have spoken back to him down in the square ifyou hadn't. "

Her uncle turned upon her a slow, cool, silent regard. "Esmé, you talktoo much, " he said finally. "I'm a little ashamed of you, as a nurse. Take your place there by the bedside. And you, young man, shut your earsand eyes and go to sleep. "

Hardly had the door closed behind the autocrat of the sick-room, whenhis patient turned softly. 

"You're crying, " he accused. 

"I'm not!" The denial was the merest gasp. The long lashes quivered withtears. 

"Yes, you are. He was mean to you. "

"He's _never_ mean to me. " The words came in a sobbing rush. "Buthe--he--stopped loving me just for that minute. And when anybody I lovestops loving me I want to die!"

The boy's brown hands crept timidly to her arm. "I like you awfully, " hesaid. "And I'll never stop, not even for a minute!"

"Won't you?" Again she was the child coquette. "But we're going awayto-night. Perhaps you won't see me any more. "

"Oh, yes, I shall. I'll look for you until I find you. "

"I'll hide, " she teased. 

"That won't matter, little girl. " He repeated the form softly anddrowsily. "Little girl; little girl; I'd do anything in the world foryou, little girl, if ever you asked me. Only don't go away while I'masleep. "

Back of them the door had opened quietly and Professor Certain, who, with Dr. Elliot, had been a silent spectator of the little drama, nowclosed it again, withdrawing, on the further side, with his companion. 

"He'll sleep now, " said the physician. "That's all he needs. Hello!What's this?"

In a corner of the sofa was a tiny huddle, outlined vaguely as human, under a faded shawl. Drawing aside the folds, the quack disclosed a wildlittle face, framed in a mass of glowing red hair. 

"That Hardscrabbler's young 'un, " he said. "She was crying quietly toherself, in the darkness outside the jail, poor little tyke. So I pickedher up, and" (with a sort of tender awkwardness) "she was glad to comewith me. Seemed to kind of take to me. Kiddies generally do. "

"Do they? That's curious. "

"I suppose you think so, " replied the quack, without rancor. 

"What are you going to do with her?"

"I'll see, later. At present I'm going to keep her here with us. She'sonly seven, and her mother's dead. Are you staying here to-night?"

"Got to. Missed my connection. "

"Then at least you'll let me pay your hotel bill, if you won't take mymoney. "

"Why, yes: I suppose so, " said the other grudgingly. "I'll look at theboy in the morning. But he'll be all right. Only, don't take up youritinerating again for a few days. "

"I'm through, I tell you. Give me a growing city to settle in and I'llgo in for the regular proprietary manufacturing game. Know anythingabout Worthington?"

"Yes. "

"Pretty good, live town?"

"First-class, and not too critical, I suppose, to accept your business, "said Dr. Elliot dryly. "I'm on my way there now for a visit. Well, Imust get my little girl. "

The itinerant opened the door, looked, and beckoned. The boy lay on hispillow, the girl was curled in her chair, both fast asleep. Their handswere lightly clasped. 

Dr. Elliot lifted his ward and carried her away. The itinerant, returning to the Hardscrabbler girl, took her out to arrange the night'saccommodation for her. So, there slept that night under one roof and atthe charge of Professor Andrew L. Certain, five human beings who, longyears after, were destined to meet and mingle their fates, intricate, intimate strands in the pattern of human weal and woe. 

CHAPTER II

OUR LEADING CITIZEN

The year of grace, 1913, commended itself to Dr. L. André Surtaine as anexcellent time in which to be alive, rich, and sixty years old. Thoroughly, keenly, ebulliently alive he was. Thoroughly rich, also; andif the truth be told, rather ebulliently conscious of his wealth. Youcould see at a glance that he had paid no usurious interest to Fate onhis success; that his vigor and zest in life remained to himundiminished. Vitality and a high satisfaction with his environment andwith himself as well placed in it, radiated from his bulky and handsomeperson; but it was the vitality that impressed you first: impressed andwarmed you; perhaps warned you, too, on shrewder observation. A gleamingpersonality, this. But behind the radiance one surmised fire. Occasiongiven, Dr. Surtaine might well be formidable. 

The world had been his oyster to open. He had cleaved it wide. Ill-natured persons hinted, in reference to his business, that he hadused poison rather than the knife wherewith to loosen the stubbornhinges of the bivalve. Money gives back small echo to the cries ofcalumny, however. And Dr. Surtaine's Certina, that infallible andguaranteed blood-cure, eradicator of all known human ills, "famousacross the map of the world, " to use one of its advertising phrases, under the catchword of "Professor Certain's Certina, the Sure-Cure" (forhe preserved the old name as a trade-mark), had made a vast deal ofmoney for its proprietor. Worthington estimated his fortune at fifteenmillions, growing at the rate of a million yearly, and was notpreposterously far afield. In a city of two hundred thousandinhabitants, claimed (one hundred and seventy-five thousand allowed by aniggling and suspicious census), this is all that the most needy ofmillionaires needs. It was all that Dr. Surtaine needed. He enjoyed hishigh satisfaction as a hard-earned increment. 

Something more than satisfaction beamed from his face this blusteryMarch noon as he awaited the Worthington train at a small station anhour up the line. He fidgeted like an eager boy when the whistlesounded, and before the cars had fairly come to a stop he was up thesteps of the sleeper and inside the door. There rose to meet him a tall, carefully dressed and pressed youth, whose exclamation was evenlyapportioned between welcome and surprise. 

"Dad!"

"Boy-ee!"

To the amusement of the other passengers, the two seized each other in abear-hug. 

"Oof!" panted the big man, releasing his son. "That's the best thingthat's happened to me this year. George" (to the porter), "get me aseat. Get us two seats together. Aren't any? Perhaps this gentleman, "turning to the chair back of him, "wouldn't mind moving across the aisleuntil we get to Worthington. "

"Certainly not. Glad to oblige, " said the stranger, smiling. Peopleusually were "glad to oblige" Dr. Surtaine whether they knew him or not. The man inspired good will in others. 

"It's nearly a year since I've set eyes on my son, " he added in a voicewhich took the whole car into his friendly confidence; "and it seemslike ten. How are you feeling, Hal? You look chirp as a cricket. "

"Couldn't possibly feel better, sir. Where did you get on?"

"Here at State Crossing. Thought I'd come up and meet you. The officegot on my nerves this morning. Work didn't hold me worth a cent. I keptfiguring you coming nearer and nearer until I couldn't stand it, so Ibanged down my desk, told my secretary that I was going to California onthe night boat and mightn't be back till evening, hung the scrap-basketon the stenographer's ear when she tried to hold me up to sign someletters, jumped out of the fifth-story window, and here I am. I hopeyou're as tickled to see me as I am to see you. "

The young man's hand went out, fell with a swift movement, to touch hisfather's, and was as swiftly withdrawn again. 

"Worthington's just waiting for you, " the Doctor rattled on. "You're putup at all the clubs. People you've never heard of are laying out dinnersand dances for you. You're a distinguished stranger; that's what youare. Welcome to our city and all that sort of thing. I'd like to have abrass band at the station to meet you, only I thought it might jar yourquiet European tastes. Eh? At that, I had to put the boys under bonds tokeep 'em from decorating the factory for you. "

"You don't seem to have lost any of your spirit, Dad, " said the junior, smiling. 

"Noticed that already, have you? Well, I'm holding my own, Boyee. Up todate, old age hasn't scratched me with his claws to any noticeableextent--is that the way it goes?--see 'Familiar Quotations. ' I'm gettingto be a regular book-worm, Hal. Shakespeare, R. L. S. , Kipling, ArnoldBennett, Hall Caine--all the high-brows. And I _get_ 'em, too. Soak 'emright in. I love it! Tell me, who's this Balzac? An agent was inyesterday trying to make me believe that he invented culture. What abouthim? I'm pretty hot on the culture trail. Look out, or I'll overhaulyou. "

"You won't have to go very far or fast. I've got only smatterings. " Butthe boy spoke with a subdued complacency not wholly lost upon the shrewdfather. 

"Not so much that you'll think Worthington dull and provincial?"

"Oh, I dare say I shall find it a very decent little place. "

But here Hal touched another pride and loyalty, quite as genuine as thatwhich Dr. Surtaine felt for his son. 

"Little place!" he cried. "Two hundred thousand of the livest people onGod's earth. A gen-u-wine American city if there ever was one. "

"Evidently it suits you, sir. "

"Couldn't suit better if I'd had it made to order, " chuckled the Doctor. "And I did pretty near make it over to order. It was a dead-and-alivetown when we opened up here. Didn't care much about my business, either. Now we're the biggest thing in town. Why Certina is the cross-mark thatshows where Worthington is on the map. The business is sim-pleeBOOMING. " The word exploded in rapture. "Nothing like it ever known inthe proprietary trade. Wait till you see the shop. "

"That will be soon, won't it, sir? I think I've loafed quite longenough. "

"You're only twenty-five, " his father defended him. "It isn't as ifyou'd been idling. Your four years abroad have been just so muchcapital. Educational capital, I mean. I've got plenty of the other kind, for both of us. You don't need to go into the business unless you wantto. "

"Being an American, I suppose I've got to go to work at something. "

"Not necessarily. "

"You don't want me to live on you all my life, though, I suppose. "

"Well, I don't want you to want me to want you to, " returned the other, laughing. "But there's no hurry. "

"To tell the truth, I'm rather bored with doing nothing. And if I can beof any use to you in the business--"

"You're ready to resume the partnership, " his father concluded thesentence for him. "That was the foundation of it all; the old days whenI did the 'spieling' and you took in the dollars. How quick your littlehands were! Can you remember it? The smelly smoke of the torches, andthe shadows chasing each other across the crowds below. And to thinkwhat has grown out of it. God, Boyee! It's a miracle, " he exulted. 

"It isn't very clear in my memory. I used to get pretty sleepy, Iremember, " said the son, smiling. 

"Poor Boyee! Sometimes I hated the life, for you. But there was nobodyto leave you with; and you were all I had. Anyway, it's turned out well, hasn't it?"

"That remains to be seen for me, doesn't it? I'm rather at the start ofthings. "

"Most youngsters would be content with an unlimited allowance, and theworld for a playground. "

"One gets tired of playing. _And_ of globe-trotting. "

"Good! Do you think you can make Worthington feel like home?"

"How can I tell, sir? I haven't spent two weeks altogether in the placesince I entered college eight years ago. "

"Did it ever strike you that I'd carefully planned to keep you away fromhere, and that our periods of companionship have all been abroad or atsummer places?"

"Yes. "

"You've never spoken of it. "

"No. "

"Good boy! Now I'll tell you why. I wanted to be absolutely establishedbefore I brought you back here. Not in business, alone. That came longago. There have been obstacles, in other ways. They're all overcome. To-day we come pretty near to being king-pins in this town, you and I, Hal. Do you feel like a prince entering into his realm?"

"Rather more like a freshman entering college, " said the other, laughing. "It isn't the town, it's the business that I have misgivingsabout. "

"Misgivings? How's that?" asked the father quickly. 

"What I can do in it. "

"Oh, that. My doubts are whether it's the best thing for you. "

"Don't you want me to go into it, Dad?"

"Of course I want you with me, Boyee. But--well, frank and flat, I don'tknow whether it's genteel enough for you. "

"Genteel?" The younger Surtaine repeated the distasteful adjective withsurprise. 

"Some folks make fun of it, you know. It's the advertising that makes ita fair mark. 'Certina, ' they say. 'That's where he made his money. Patent-medicine millions. ' I don't mind it. But for you it's different. "

"If the money is good enough for me to spend, it's good enough for me toearn, " said Hal Surtaine a little grandiloquently. 

"Humph! Well, the business is a big success, and I want you to be a bigsuccess. But that doesn't mean that I want to combine the two. Isn'tthere anything else you've ever thought of turning to?"

"I've got something of a leaning toward your profession, Dad. "

"My prof--oh, you mean medicine. "

"Yes. "

"Nothing in it. Doctors are a lot of prejudiced pedants and hypocrites. Not one in a thousand is more than an inch wide. What started you onthat?"

"I hardly know. It was just a notion. I think the scientific andsociological side is what appeals to me. But my interest is onlytheoretical. "

"That's very well for a hobby. Not as a profession. Here we are, half anhour late, as usual. "

The sudden and violent bite of the brakes, a characteristic operation ofthat mummy among railroads, the Mid-State and Great Muddy River, commonly known as the "Mid-and-Mud, " flung forward in an involuntaryplunge the incautious who had arisen to look after their things. HalSurtaine found himself supporting the weight of a fortuitous citizen whohad just made his way up the aisle. 

"Thank you, " said the stranger in a dry voice. "You're the prodigal sonof whom we've heard such glowing forecast, I presume. "

"Well met, Mr. Pierce, " called Dr. Surtaine's jovial voice. "Yes, that'smy son, Harrington, you're hanging to. Hal, this is Mr. Elias M. Pierce, one of the men who run Worthington. "

Releasing his burden Hal acknowledged the introduction. Elias M. Pierce, receding a yard or so into perspective, revealed himself as a spare, middle-aged man who looked as if he had been hewn out of a block, square, and glued into a permanent black suit. Under his palely sardoniceye Hal felt that he was being appraised, and in none too amiable aspirit. 

"A favorite pleasantry of your father's, Mr. Surtaine, " said Pierce. "What became of Douglas? Oh, here he is. "

A clean-shaven, rather floridly dressed man came forward, was introducedto Hal, and inquired courteously whether he was going to settle down inWorthington. 

"Probably depends on how well he likes it, " cut in the dry Mr. Pierce. "You might help him decide. I'm sure William would be glad to have youlunch with him one day this week at the Huron Club, Mr. Surtaine. "

Somewhat surprised and a little annoyed at this curiously vicarioussuggestion of hospitality, the newcomer hesitated, although Douglaspromptly supported the offer. Before he had decided what to reply, hisfather eagerly broke in. 

"Yes, yes. You must go, Hal, " he said, apparently oblivious of the factthat he had not been included in the invitation. 

"I'll try to be there, myself, " continued Pierce, in a flat tone ofcondescension. "Douglas represents me, however, not only legally but inother matters that I'm too busy to attend to. "

"Mr. Pierce is president of the Huron Club, " explained Dr. Surtaine. "It's our leading social organization. You'll meet our best business menthere. " And Hal had no alternative but to accept. 

Here William Douglas turned to speak to Dr. Surtaine. "The ReverendNorman Hale has been looking for you. It is some minor hitch aboutthat Mission matter, I believe. Just a little diplomacy wanted. Hesaid he'd call to see you day after to-morrow. "

"Meaning more money, I suppose, " said Dr. Surtaine. Then, more loudly:"Well, the business can stand it. All right. Send him along. "

With Hal close on his heels he stepped from the car. But Douglas, having the cue from his patron, took the younger man by the arm anddrew him aside. 

"Come over and meet some of our fair citizens, " he said. "Nothing likestarting right. "

The Pierce motor car, very large, very quietly complete and elegant, was waiting near at hand, and in it a prematurely elderly, subduednondescript of a woman, and a pretty, sensitive, sensuous type ofbrunette, almost too well dressed. To Mrs. Pierce and Miss KathleenPierce, Hal was duly presented, and by them graciously received. Ashe stood there, bareheaded, gracefully at ease, smiling up into theinterested faces of the two ladies, Dr. Surtaine, passing to his owncar to await him, looked back and was warmed with pride and gratitudefor this further honorarium to his capital stock of happiness, for hesaw already in his son the assurance of social success, and, on thehour's reckoning, summed him up. And since we are to see much ofHarrington Surtaine, in evil chance and good, and see him at timesthrough the eyes of that shrewd observer and capitalizer of men, hisfather, the summing-up is worth our present heed, for all that it isto be considerably modified in the mind of its proponent, as eventsdevelop. This, then, is Dr. Surtaine's estimate of his beloved"Boyee, " after a year of separation. 

"A little bit of a prig. A little bit of a cub. Just a _little_ miteof a snob, too, maybe. But the right, solid, clean stuff underneath. And my son, thank God! _My_ son all through. "

CHAPTER III

ESMÉ

Hal saw her first, vivid against the lifeless gray of the cement wall, as he turned away from the Pierce car. A little apart from the humancurrent she stood, still and expectant. As if to point her out as thechosen of gods and men, the questing sun, bursting in triumph through acloud-rift, sent a long shaft of gold to encompass and irradiate her. Tothe end, whether with aching heart or glad, Hal was to see her thus, inflashing, recurrent visions; a slight, poised figure, all graciouscurves and tender consonances, with a cluster of the trailing arbutus, that first-love of the springtide, clinging at her breast. The breezebore to him the faint, wild, appealing fragrance which is the verybreath and soul of the blossom's fairy-pink. 

Half-turning, she had leaned a little, as a flower leans, to the warmthof the sunlight, uplifting her face for its kiss. She was not beautifulin any sense of regularity of outline or perfection of feature, so muchas lovely, with the lustrous loveliness which defiantly overrides thelapse of line and proportion, and imperiously demands the homage ofevery man born of woman. Chill analysis might have judged the mouth, with its delicate, humorous quirk at the corners, too large; the chintoo broad, for all its adorable baby dimple; the line of the nose tooabrupt, the wider contours lacking something of classic exactitude. Butthe chillest analysis must have warmed to enthusiasm at the eyes;wide-set, level, and of a tawny hazel, with strange, wine-brown lightsin their depths, to match the brownish-golden sheen of the hair, wherethe sun glinted from it. As it were a higher power of her physicalsplendor, there emanated from the girl an intensity and radiance of joyin being alive and lovely. 

Involuntarily Hal Surtaine paused as he approached her. Her glance fellupon him, not with the impersonal regard bestowed upon a casualpasser-by, but with an intent and brightening interest, --the thrill ofthe chase, had he but known it, --and passed beyond him again. But inthat brief moment, the conviction was borne in upon him that sometime, somewhere, he had looked into those eyes before. Puzzled and eager hestill stared, until, with a slight flush, she moved forward and passedhim. At the head of the stairs he saw her greet a strongly built, grizzled man; and then became aware of his father beckoning to him fromthe automobile. 

"Bewitched, Hal?" said Dr. Surtaine as his son came to him. 

"Was I staring very outrageously, sir?"

"Why, you certainly looked interested, " returned the older man, laughing. "But I don't think you need apologize to the young lady. She'sused to attention. Rather lives on it, I guess. "

The tone jarred on Hal. "I had a queer, momentary feeling that I'd seenher before, " he said. 

"Don't you recall where?"

"No, " said Hal, startled. "_Do_ I know her?"

"Apparently not, " taunted the other good-humoredly. "You should know. Hers is generally considered a face not difficult to remember. "

"Impossible to forget!"

"In that case it must be that you haven't seen her before. But you willagain. And, then look out, Boy-ee. Danger ahead!"

"How's that, sir?"

"You'll see for yourself when you meet her. Half of the boys in town arecrazy over her. She eats 'em alive. Can't you tell the man-killer typewhen you see it?"

"Oh, that's all in the game, isn't it?" returned Hal lightly. "So longas she plays fair. And she looks like a girl of breeding and standards. "

"All of that. Esmé Elliot is a lady, so far as that goes. But--well, I'mnot going to prejudice you. Here she comes now. "

"Who is it with her?"

"Her uncle, Dr. Elliot. He doesn't altogether approve of us--me, Imean. "

Uncle and niece were coming directly toward them now, and Hal watchedher approach with a thrill of delight in her motion. It was a study inharmonies. She moved like a cloud before the wind; like a ship upon thehigh seas; like the swirl of swift waters above hidden depths. As thepair passed to their car, which stood next to Dr. Surtaine's, the girlglanced up and nodded, with a brilliant smile, to the doctor, whoreturned to the salutation an extra-gallant bow. 

"You seem to be friends, " commented Hal, somewhat amused. 

"That was more for you than for me. But the fair Esmé can always spareone of those smiles for anything that wears trousers. "

Hal moved uneasily. He felt a sense of discord. As he cast about for atopic to shift to, the Elliot car rolled ahead slowly, and once more hecaught the woodsy perfume of the pink bloom. Strangely and satisfyinglyto his quickened perceptions, it seemed to express the quality of thewearer. Despite her bearing of worldly self-assurance, despite theatmosphere of modishness about her, there was in her charm somethingwild and vivid, vernal and remote, like the arbutus which, alone amongflowers, keeps its life-secret virgin and inviolate, resisting allendeavors to make it bloom except in its own way and in its own chosenplaces. 

CHAPTER IV

THE SHOP

Certina had found its first modest home in Worthington on a side street. As the business grew, the staid tenement which housed it expanded anddrew to itself neighboring buildings, until it eventually gave way tothe largest, finest, and most up-to-date office edifice in the city. None too large, fine, or modern was this last word in architecture forthe triumphant nostrum and the minor medical enterprises allied to it. For though Certina alone bore the name and spread the fame and featuresof its inventor abroad in the land, many lesser experiments had bloomedinto success under the fertilizing genius of the master-quack. 

Inanimate machinery, when it runs sweetly, gives forth a definitetone, the bee-song of work happily consummated. So this great humanmechanism seemed, to Harrington Surtaine as he entered the realm ofits activities, moving to music personal to itself. Through its widehalls he wandered, past humming workrooms, up spacious stairways, resonant to the tread of brisk feet, until he reached the fifth floorwhere cluster the main offices. Here through a succession of opendoors he caught a glimpse of the engineer who controlled all theselively processes, leaning easily back from his desk, fresh, suavelygroomed, smiling, an embodiment of perfect satisfaction. Before Dr. Surtaine lay many sheaves of paper, in rigid order. A stenographer satin a far corner, making notes. From beyond a side door came theprecise, faint clicking of a typewriter. The room possessed anatmosphere of calm and poise; but not of restfulness. At once andemphatically it impressed the visitor with a sense that it was a placewhere things were done, and done efficiently. 

Upon his son's greeting, Dr. Surtaine whirled in his chair. 

"Come down to see the old slave at work, eh?" he said. 

"Yes, sir. " Hal's hand fell on the other's shoulder, and the Doctor'sfingers went up to it for a quick pressure. "I thought I'd like to seethe wheels go 'round. "

"You've come to the right spot. This is the good old cash-factory, andyours truly is the man behind the engine. The State, I'm It, as Napoleonsaid to Louis the Quince. Where McBeth sits is the head of the table. "

"In other words, a one-man business. "

"That's the secret. There's nothing in this shop that I can't do, anddon't do, every now and then, just to keep my hand in. I can put morepull into an ad. To-day than the next best man in the business. Modestyisn't my besetting sin, you see, Hal. "

"Why should it be? Every brick in this building would give the lie toit. "

"Say every frame on these four walls, " suggested Dr. Surtaine with anexpansive gesture. 

Following this indication, Hal examined the decorations. On every sidewere ordinary newspaper advertisements, handsomely mounted, most of thembearing dates on brass plates. Here and there appeared a circular, or atyped letter, similarly designated. 

Above Dr. Surtaine's desk was a triple setting, a small advertisement, alarger one, and a huge full-newspaper-page size, each embodying the samefigure, that of a man half-bent over, with his hand to his back and alamentable expression on his face. 

Certain strongly typed words fairly thrust themselves out of thesurrounding print: "Pain--Back--Take Care--Means Something--YourKidneys. " And then in dominant presentment--

 CERTINA CURES. 

"What do you think of Old Lame-Boy?" asked Dr. Surtaine. 

"From an æsthetic point of view?"

"Never mind the æsthetics of it. 'Handsome is as handsome does. '"

"What has that faded beauty done, then?"

"Carried many a thousand of our money to bank for us, Boyee. That's thead. That made the business. "

"Did you design it?"

"Every word and every line, except that I got a cheap artist to touch upthe drawing a little. Then I plunged. When that copy went out, we hadjust fifty thousand dollars in the world, you and I. Before it had beenrunning three months, I'd spent one hundred thousand dollars more thanwe owned, in the newspapers, and had to borrow money right and left tokeep the manufacturing and bottling plant up to the orders. It was ayear before we could see clear sailing, and by that time we were prettynear quarter of a million to the good. Talk about ads. That pull! Itpulled like a mule-team and a traction engine and a fifty-cent painlessdentist all in one. I'm still using that copy, in the kidney season. "

"Do kidneys have seasons?"

"Kidney troubles do. "

"I'd have thought such diseases wouldn't depend on the time of year. "

"Maybe they don't, actually, " admitted the other. "Maybe they're justcrowded out of the public mind by the pressure of other sickness inseason, like rheumatism in the early winter, and pneumonia in the late. But there's no doubt that the kidney season comes in with the changesof the spring. That's one of my discoveries, too. I tell you, Boyee, I've built my success on things like that. It's psychology: that's whatit is. That's what you've got to learn, if you're going into theconcern. "

"I'm ready, Dad. It sounds interesting. More so than I'd have thought. "

"Interesting! It's the very heart and core of the trade. " Dr. Surtaineleaned forward, to tap with an earnest finger on his son's knee, apicture of expository enthusiasm. "Here's the theory. You see, alongabout March or April people begin to get slack-nerved and out-of-sortsy. They don't know what ails 'em, but they think there's something. Well, one look at that ad. Sets 'em wondering if it isn't their kidneys. Afterwonder comes worry. He's the best little worrier in the trade, OldLame-Boy is. He just pesters folks into taking proper care ofthemselves. They get Certina, and we get their dollars. And they gettheir money's worth, too, " he added as an afterthought for Hal'sbenefit, "for it's a mighty good thing to have your kidneys tonicked upat this time of year. "

"But, Dad, " queried Hal, with an effort of puzzled reminiscence, "in theold days Certina wasn't a kidney remedy, was it?"

"Not specially. It's always been _good_ for the kidneys. Good foreverything, for that matter. Besides, the formula's been changed. "

"Changed? But the formula's the vital thing, isn't it?"

"Yes, yes. Of course. Certainly it's the vital thing: certainly. But, you see, --well, --new discoveries in medicine and that sort of thing. "

"You've put new drugs in?"

"Yes: I've done that. Buchu, for instance. That's supposed to be goodfor the kidneys. Dropped some things out, too. Morphine got sort of abad name. The muckrakers did that with their magazine articles. "

"Of course I don't pretend to know about such things, Dad. But morphineseems a pretty dangerous thing for people to take indiscriminately. "

"Well, it's out. There ain't a grain of it in Certina to-day. "

"I'm glad of it. "

"Oh, I don't know. It's useful in its place. For instance, you can't runa soothing-syrup without it. But when the Pure Food Law compelled us toprint the amount of morphine on the label, I just made up my mind thatI'd have no government interference in the Certina business, so Idropped the drug. "

"Did the law hurt our trade much?"

"Not so far as Certina goes. I'm not even sure it didn't help. You see, now we can print 'Guaranteed under the U. S. Food and Drugs Act' on everybottle. In fact we're required to. "

"What does the guaranty mean?"

"That whatever statement may be on the label is accurate. That's all. But the public takes it to mean that the Government officiallyguarantees Certina to do everything we claim for it, " chuckled Dr. Surtaine. "It's a great card. We've done more business under the newformula than we ever did under the old. "

"What is the formula now?"

"Prying into the secrets of the trade?" chuckled the elder man. 

"But if I'm coming into the shop, to learn--"

"Right you are, Boyee, " interrupted his father buoyantly. "There's theformula for making profits. " He swept his hand about in a spaciouscircle, grandly indicating the advertisement-bedecked walls. "There'swhere the brains count. Come along, " he added, jumping up; "let's take aturn around the joint. "

Every day, Dr. Surtaine explained to his son, he made it a practice togo through the entire plant. 

"It's the only way to keep a business up to mark. Besides, I like toknow my people. "

Evidently he did know his people and his people knew and strongly likedhim. So much Hal gathered from the offhand and cheerily friendlygreetings which were exchanged between the head of the vast concern andsuch employees, important or humble, as they chanced to meet in theirwanderings. First they went to the printing-plant, the Certina Companydoing all its own printing; then to what Dr. Surtaine called "theliterary bureau. "

"Three men get out all our circulars and advertising copy, " he explainedin an aside. "One of 'em gets five thousand a year; but even so I haveto go over all his stuff. If I could teach him to write ads. Like I doit myself, I'd pay him ten thousand--yes, twenty thousand. I'd have to, to keep him. The circulars they do better; but I edit those, too. Whatabout that name for the new laxative pills, Con? Hal, I want you to meetMr. Conover, our chief ad. -man. "

Conover, a dapper young man with heavy eye-glasses, greeted Hal withsome interest, and then turned to the business in hand. 

"What'd you think of 'Anti-Pellets'?" he asked. "Anti, opposed to, youknow. In the sub-line, tell what they're opposed to: indigestion, appendicitis, and so on. "

"Don't like it, " returned Dr. Surtaine abruptly. "Anti-Ralgia's playedthat to death. Lemme think, for a moment. "

Down he plumped into Conover's chair, seized a pencil and made tentativejabs at a sheet of paper. "Pellets, pellets, " he muttered. Then, in akind of subdued roar, "I've got it! I've got it, Con! 'Pro-Pellets. 'Tell people what they're for, not what they're against. Besides, thename has got the idea of pro-pulsion. See? Pro-Pellets, pro-pel!" Hisbig fist shot forward like a piston-rod. "Just the idea for a laxative. Eh?"

"Fine!" agreed Conover, a little ruefully, but with genuineappreciation of the fitness of the name. "I wish I'd thought of it. "

"You did--pretty near. Anyway, you made me think of it. Anti-Pellets, Pro-Pellets: it's just one step. Like as not you'd have seen it yourselfif I hadn't butted in. Now, go to it, and figure out your series onthat. "

With kindly hands he pushed Conover back into his chair, gave him ahearty pat on the shoulder, and passed on. Hal began to have an inklingof the reasons for his father's popularity. 

"Have we got other medicines besides Certina?" he asked. 

"Bless you, yes! This little laxative pills business I took over from aconcern that didn't have the capital to advertise it. Across the hallthere is the Sure Soother department. That's a teething syrup: doeswonders for restless babies. On the floor below is the Cranicure Mixturefor headaches, Rub-it-in Balm for rheumatism and bruises, and a coupleof small side issues that we're not trying to push much. We're handlingStomachine and Relief Pills from here, but the pills are made inCincinnati, and we market 'em under another trade name. "

"Stomachine is for stomach troubles, I assume, " said Hal. "What are theRelief Pills?"

"Oh, a female remedy, " replied his father carelessly. "Quite a boominglittle trade, too. Take a look at the Certina collection oftestimonials. "

In a room like a bank vault were great masses of testimonial letters, all listed and double-catalogued by name and by disease. 

"Genuine. Provably genuine, every one. There's romance in some of 'em. And gratitude; good Lord! Sometimes when I look 'em over, I wonder Idon't run for President of the United States on a Certina platform. "

From the testimonial room they went to the art department where Dr. Surtaine had some suggestions to make as to bill-board designs. 

"You'll never get another puller like Old Lame-Boy, " Hal heard the headdesigner say with a chuckle, and his father reply: "If I could I'd startanother proprietary as big as Certina. "

"Where does that lead to?" inquired Hal, as they approached a sidepassage sloping slightly down, and barred by a steel door. 

"The old building. The manufacturing department is over there. "

"Compounding the medicine, you mean?"

"Yes. Bottling and shipping, too. "

"Aren't we going through?"

"Why, yes: if you like. You won't find much to interest you, though. "

Nor, to Hal's surprise, did Dr. Surtaine himself seem much concernedwith this phase of the business. Apparently his hand was not so close incontrol here as in the other building. The men seemed to know him lesswell. 

"All this pretty well runs itself, " he explained negligently. 

"Don't you have to keep a check on the mixing, to make sure it's right?"

"Oh, they follow the formula. No chance for error. "

They walked amidst chinking trucks, some filled with empty, some withfilled and labeled bottles, until they reached the carton room wherescores of girls were busily inserting the bottles, together with foldedcirculars and advertising cards, into pasteboard boxes. At the far endof this room a pungent, high-spiced scent, as of a pickle-kitchen with afortified odor underlying it, greeted the unaccustomed nose of theneophyte. 

"Good!" he sniffed. "How clean and appetizing it smells!"

Enthusiasm warmed the big man's voice once more. 

"Just what it is, too!" he exclaimed. "Now you've hit on the second bigpoint in Certina's success. It's easy to take. What's the worst thingabout doctors' doses? They're nasty. The very thought of 'em would gag acat. Tell people that here's a remedy better than the old medicine andpleasant to the taste, and they'll take to it like ducks to water. Certina is the first proprietary that ever tasted good. Next to OldLame-Boy, it's my biggest idea. "

"Are we going into the mixing-room?" asked his son. 

"If you like. But you'll see less than you smell. "

So it proved. A heavy, wet, rich vapor shrouded the space about a hugecauldron, from which came a sound of steady plashing. Presently anattendant gnome, stripped to the waist, appeared, nodded to Dr. Surtaine, called to some one back in the mist, and shortly brought Hal asmall glass brimming with a pale-brown liquid. 

"Just fresh, " he said. "Try it. "

"My kidneys are all right, " protested Hal. "I don't need any medicine. "

"Take it for a bracer. It won't hurt you, " urged the gnome. 

Hal looked at his father, and, at his nod, put his lips to the glass. 

"Why, it tastes like spiced whiskey!" he cried. 

"Not so far out of the way. Columbian spirits, caramel, cinnamon andcardamom, and a touch of the buchu. Good for the blues. Finish it. "

Hal did so and was aware of an almost instantaneous glow. 

"Strong stuff, sir, " he said to his father as they emerged into aclearer atmosphere. 

"They like it strong, " replied the other curtly. "I give 'em what theylike. "

The attendant gnome followed. "Mr. Dixon was looking for you, Dr. Surtaine. Here he comes, now. "

"Dixon's our chief chemist, " explained Dr. Surtaine as a shabby, anxious-looking man ambled forward. 

"We're having trouble with that last lot of cascara, sir, " said helugubriously. 

"In the Number Four?"

"Yes, sir. It don't seem to have any strength. "

"Substitute senna. " So offhand was the tone that it sounded like asuggestion rather than an order. 

As the latter, however, the chemist contentedly took it. 

"It'll cost less, " he observed; "and I guess it'll do the work just aswell. "

To Hal it seemed a somewhat cavalier method of altering a medicalformula. But his mind, accustomed to easy acceptance of the businesswhich so luxuriously supplied his wants, passed the matter over lightly. 

"First-rate man, Dixon, " remarked Dr. Surtaine as they passed along. "College-bred, and all that. Boozes, though. I only pay him twenty-fivea week, and he's mighty glad to get it. "

On the way back to the offices, they traversed the checking andaccounting rooms, the agency department, the great rows of desks whereatthe shipping and mailing were looked after, and at length stopped beforethe door of a small office occupied by a dozen women. One of these, afull-bosomed, slender, warm-skinned girl with a wealth of deep-hued, rippling red hair crowning her small, well-poised head, rose and came tospeak to Dr. Surtaine. 

"Did you get the message I sent you about Letter Number Seven?" sheasked. 

"Hello, Milly, " greeted the presiding genius, pleasantly. "Just what wasthat about Number Seven?"

"It isn't getting results. "

"No? Let's see it. " Dr. Surtaine was as interested in this as he hadbeen casual about the drug alteration. 

"I don't think it's personal enough, " pursued the girl, handing him asheet of imitation typewriter print. 

"Oh, you don't, " said her employer, amused. "Maybe you could better it. "

"I have, " said the girl calmly. "You always tell us to makesuggestions. Mine are on the back of the paper. "

"Good for you! Hal, here's the prettiest girl in the shop, and about thesmartest. Milly, this is my boy. "

The girl looked up at Hal with a smile and brightened color. He wassuddenly interested and appreciative to see to what a vivid prettinessher face was lighted by the raised glance of her swift, gray-green eyes. 

"Are you coming into the business, Mr. Surtaine?" she asked composedly, and with almost as proprietary an air as if she had said "our business. "

"I don't know. Is it the sort of business you would advise a rather lazyperson to embark in, Miss--"

"Neal, " she supplied; adding, with an illustrative glance around, uponher busy roomful, all sorting and marking correspondence, "You see, Ionly give advice by letter. "

She turned away to answer one of the subordinates, and, at the sametime, Dr. Surtaine was called aside by a man with a shipping-bill. Looking down the line of workers, Hal saw that each one was simplyopening, reading, and marking with a single stroke, the letters from adistributing groove. To her questioner Milly Neal was saying, briskly:

"That's Three and Seven. Can't you see, she says she has spots beforeher eyes. That's stomach. And the lameness in the side is kidneys. Markit 'Three pass to Seven. ' There's a combination form for that. "

"What branch of the work is this?" asked Hal, as she lifted her eyes tohis again. 

"Symptom correspondence. This is the sorting-room. "

"Please explain. I'm a perfect greenhorn, you know. "

"You've seen the ads. Of course. Nobody could help seeing them. They allsay, 'Write to Professor Certain'--the trade name, you know. It's theregular stock line, but it does bring in the queries. Here's theafternoon mail, now. "

Hundreds upon hundreds of letters came tumbling from a bag upon thereceiving-table. All were addressed to "Prof. " or "Dr. " Certain. 

"How can my father hope to answer all those?" cried Hal. 

The girl surveyed him with a quaint and delicious derision. "He? Youdon't suppose he ever sees them! What are _we_ here for?"

"You do the answering?"

"Practically all of it, by form-letters turned out in the printingdepartment. For instance, Letter One is coughs and colds; Two, headaches; Three, stomach; and so on. As soon as a symp-letter is readthe girl marks it with the form-letter number, underscores the address, and it goes across to the letter room where the right answer is mailed, advising the prospect to take Certina. Orders with cash go direct to theshipping department. If the symp-writer wants personal advice that theform-letters don't give, I send the inquiry upstairs to Dr. De Vito. He's a regular graduate physician who puts in half his time as ourMedical Adviser. We can clear up three thousand letters a day, here. "

"I can readily see that my father couldn't attend to them personally, "said Hal, smiling. 

"And it's just as good this way. Certina is what the prospects want andneed. It makes no difference who prescribes it. This is the Chief's owndevice for handling the correspondence. "

"The Chief?"

"Your father. We all call him that, all the old hands. "

Hal's glance skimmed over the fresh young face, and the brilliant eyes. "You wouldn't call yourself a very old hand, Miss Neal. "

"Seven years I've worked for the Chief, and I never want to work in abetter place. He's been more than good to me. "

"Because you've deserved it, young woman, " came the Doctor's voice frombehind Hal. "That's the one and only reason. I'm a flint-livered olddivvle to folks that don't earn every cent of their wages. "

"Don't you believe him, Mr. Surtaine, " controverted the girl, earnestly. "When one of my girls came down last year with tuber--"

"Whoof! Whoof! Whoof!" interrupted the big man, waving his hands in theair. "Stop it! This is no experience meeting. Milly, you're right aboutthis letter. It's the confidential note that's lacking. It'll work upall right along the line of your suggestion. I'll have to send Hal toyou for lessons in the business. "

"Miss Neal would have to be very patient with my stupidity. "

"I don't think it would be hard to be patient with you, " she saidsoftly; and though her look was steady he saw the full color rise in hercheeks, and, startled, felt an answering throb in his pulses. 

"But you mustn't flirt with her, Hal, " warned the old quack, with ajoviality that jarred. 

Uncomfortably conscious of himself and of the girl's altered expression, Hal spoke a hasty word or two of farewell, and followed his father outinto the hallway. But the blithe and vivid femininity of the youngexpert plucked at his mind. At the bend of the hall, he turned with halfa hope and saw her standing at the door. Her look was upon him, and itseemed to him to be both troubled and wistful. 

CHAPTER V

THE SCION

To Harrington Surtaine, life had been a game with easy rules. Certainthings one must not do. Decent people didn't do them. That's all therewas to that. In matters of morals and conduct, he was guided by anatural temperance and an innate sense of responsibility to himself. Difficult questions had not come up in his life. Consequently he had notfound the exercise of judgment troublesome. His tendency, as regardedhis own affairs, was to a definite promptness of decision, and there wasan end of the matter. Others he seldom felt called upon to judge, but ifthe instance were ineluctable, he was prone to an amiable generosity. Ease of living does not breed in the mind a strongly defined philosophy. All that young Mr. Surtaine required of his fellow beings was that theyshould behave themselves with a due and respectable regard to the rightsof all in general and of himself in particular--and he would do the sameby them. Rather a pallid attenuation of the Golden Rule; but he had thusfar found it sufficient to his existence. 

Into this peaceful world-scheme intruded, now, a disorganizing factor. He had brought it home with him from his visit to the "shop. " Anundefined but pervasive distaste for the vast, bustling, profitableCertina business formed the nucleus of it. As he thought it over thatnight, amidst the heavily ornate elegance of the great bedroom, which, with its dressing-room and bath, his father had set aside for his use inthe Surtaine mansion, he felt in the whole scheme of the thing a vagueoffense. The air which he had breathed in those spacious halls of tradehad left a faintly malodorous reminiscence in his nostrils. 

One feature of his visit returned insistently to his mind: the contrastbetween the semi-contemptuous carelessness exhibited by his fathertoward the processes of compounding the cure and the minute andinsistent attention given to the methods of expounding it. Was theadvertising really of so much more import than the medicine itself? Ifso, wasn't the whole affair a matter of selling shadow rather thansubstance?

But it is not in human nature to view with too stern a scrutiny abusiness which furnishes one's easeful self with all the requisites ofluxury, and that by processes of almost magic simplicity. Hal reflectedthat all big businesses doubtless had their discomforting phases. He hadonce heard a lecturing philosopher express a doubt as to whether it werepossible to defend, ethically, that prevalent modern phenomenon, themillionaire, in any of his manifestations. By the counsel of perfectionthis might well be true. But who was he to judge his father by suchrigorous standards? Of the medical aspect of the question he could formno clear judgment. To him the patent medicine trade was simply a part ofthe world's business, like railroading, banking, or any other form ofmerchandising. His own precocious commercial experience, when, as a boy, he had played his little part in the barter and trade, had blinded himon that side. Nevertheless, his mind was not impregnably fortified. OldLame-Boy, bearer of dollars to the bank, loomed up, a disturbing figure. 

Then, from a recess in his memory, there popped out the word "genteel. "His father had characterized the Certina business as being, possibly, not sufficiently "genteel" for him. He caught at the saving suggestion. Doubtless that was the trouble. It was the blatancy of the business, notany evil quality inherent in it, which had offended him. Kindest andgentlest of men and best of fathers as Dr. Surtaine was, he was not aparagon of good taste; and his business naturally reflected hispersonality. Even this was further than Hal had ever gone before incritical judgment. But he seized upon the theory as a defense againstfurther thought, and, having satisfied his self-questionings with thissop, he let his mind revert to his trip through the factory. It pausedon the correspondence room and its attractive forewoman. 

"She seemed a practical little thing, " he reflected. "I'll talk to heragain and get her point of view. " And then he wondered, rather amusedly, how much of this self-suggestion arose from a desire for information, and how much was inspired by a memory of her haunting, hungry eyes. 

On the following morning he kept away from the factory, lunched at theHuron Club with William Douglas, Elias M. Pierce, who had found time tobe present, and several prominent citizens whom he thought quite dullysimilar to each other; and afterward walked to the Certina Building tokeep an appointment with its official head. 

"Been feeding with our representative citizens, eh?" his father greetedhim. "Good! Meantime the Old Man grubbed along on a bowl of milk and apiece of apple pie, at a hurry-up lunch-joint. Good working diet, foryoung or old. Besides, it saves time. "

"Are you as busy as all that, Dad?"

"Pretty busy this morning, because I've had to save an hour for you outof this afternoon. We'll take it right now if you're ready. "

"Quite ready, sir. "

"Hal, where's Europe?"

"Europe? In the usual place on the map, I suppose. "

"You didn't bring it back with you, then?"

"Not a great deal of it. They mightn't have let it through the customs. "

Dr. Surtaine snapped a rubber band from a packet of papers lying on hisdesk. "Considering that you seem to have bought it outright, " he said, twinkling, "I thought you might tell me what you intend doing with it. There are the bills. "

"Have I gone too heavy, sir?" asked Hal. "You've never limited me, and Isupposed that the business--"

"The business, " interrupted his father arrogantly, "could pay thosebills three times over in any month. That isn't the point. The point isthat you've spent something more than forty-eight thousand dollars thislast year. "

Hal whistled ruefully. "Call it an even fifty, " he said. "I've made alittle, myself. "

"No! Have you? How's that?"

"While I was in London I did a bit of writing; sketches of queer placesand people and that sort of thing, and had pretty good luck selling 'em. One fellow I know there even offered me a job paragraphing. That's likeour editorial writing, you know. "

"Fine! That makes me feel easier. I was afraid you might be going soft, with so much money to spend. "

"How I ever spent that much--"

"Never mind that. It's gone. However, we'll try another basis. I'dthought of an allowance, but I don't quite like the notion. Hal, I'mgoing to give you your own money. "

"My own money? I didn't know that I had any. "

"Well, you have. "

"Where did I get it?"

"From our partnership. From the old days on the road. "

"Rather an intangible fortune, isn't it?"

"That old itinerant business was the nucleus of the Certina of to-day. You had a profit-sharing right in that. You've still got it--in this. Hal, I'm turning over to you to-day half a million dollars. "

"That's a lot of money, Dad, " said the younger man soberly. 

"The interest doesn't come to fifty thousand dollars a year, though. "

"More than half; and that's more than plenty. "

"Well, I don't know. We'll try it. At any rate, it's your own. Plentymore where it comes from, if you need extra. "

"I shan't. It's more than generous of you--"

"Not a bit of it. No more than just, Boyee. So let the thanks go. "

"All right, sir. But--you know how I feel about it. "

"I guess I know just about how you and I feel toward each other onanything that comes up between us, Boyee. " There was a grave gentlenessin Dr. Surtaine's tone. "Well, there are the papers, " he added, morebriskly. "I haven't put all your eggs in one basket, you see. "

Going over the certificates Hal found himself possessed of fiftythousand dollars in the stock of the Mid-State and Great Muddy Railroad:an equal sum in the Security Power Products Company; twenty-fivethousand each in the stock of the Worthington Trust Company and theRemsen Savings Bank; one hundred thousand in the Certina Company, andfifty thousand in three of its subsidiary enterprises. Besides this, hefound five check-books in the large envelope which contained his riches. 

"What are these, Dad?" he asked. 

"Cash on deposit in local and New York banks. You might want to do someinvesting of your own. Or possibly you might see some businessproposition you wanted to buy into. "

"I see some Security Power Products Company certificates. What is that?"

"The local light, heat, and power corporation. It pays ten per cent. Certina never pays less than twenty. The rest is all good for six, atleast and the Mid-and-Mud averages eight. You've got upwards ofthirty-seven thousand income there, not counting your deposits. Whileyou're looking about, deciding what you're going to do, it'll be yourown money and nobody else's that you're spending. "

"Do you think many fathers would do this sort of thing, Dad?" said Halwarmly. 

"Any sensible one would. I don't want to own you, Boyee. I want you toown yourself. And to make yourself, " he added slowly. 

"If I can make myself like you, Dad--"

"Oh, I'm a good-enough piece of work, for my day and time, " laughed thefather. "But I want a fine finish on you. While you're looking aroundfor your life-work, how about doing a little unpaid job for me?"

"Anything, " cried Hal. "Just try me. "

"Do you know what an Old Home Week is?"

"Only what I read in to-day's paper announcing the preliminarycommittee. "

"That gave you enough idea. We make a big thing of Old Home Week inWorthington. This year it will be particularly big because it's thehundredth anniversary of the city. The President of the United Stateswill be here. I'm to be chairman of the general committee, and I wantyou for my secretary. "

"Nothing I'd like better, sir. "

"Good! All the moneyed men in town will be on the committee. The workwill put you in touch with the people who count. Well, that settles ourbusiness. Good luck to you in your independence, Boyee. " He touched abell. "Any one waiting to see me, Jim?" he asked the attendant. 

"Yes, sir. The Reverend Norman Hale. "

"Send him in. "

"Shall I go, Dad?" asked Hal. 

"Oh, you might take a little ramble around the shop. Go anywhere. Askany questions of anybody. They all know you. "

At the door, Hal passed a tall, sinewy young man with heavy brows andrebellious hair. A slight, humorous uptilt to his mouth relieved theface of impassivity and saved it from a too formal clericalism. Thevisitor was too deeply concerned with some consideration of his innerself to more than glance at Hal, who heard Dr. Surtaine's heartygreeting through the closing door. 

"Glad to see you, Mr. Hale. Take a chair. "

The visitor bowed gravely and sat down. 

"You've come to see me about--?"

"Your subscription to the East End Church Club Fund. "

"I am heartily in sympathy with the splendid work your church is doingin the--er--less salubrious parts of our city, " said Dr. Surtaine. 

"Doubtless, " returned the young clergyman dryly. 

"Seems to be saving his wind, " thought Dr. Surtaine, a little uneasily. "I suppose it's a question, " he continued, aloud, "of the disposition ofthe sum--"

"No: it is not. "

If this bald statement required elucidation or expansion, its proponentdidn't seem to realize the fact. He contemplated with minute scrutiny afly which at that moment was alighting (in about the proportion of thegreat American eagle) upon the pained countenance of Old Lame-Boy. 

"Well?" queried the other, adding to himself, "What the devil ails theman!"

The scrutinized fly rose, after the manner of its kind, and (now reducedto normal scale) touched lightly in its exploratory tour upon Dr. Surtaine's domed forehead. Following it thus far, the visitor's gazerested. Dr. Surtaine brushed off the insect. He could not brush off theregard. Under it and his caller's continued silence he grew fidgety. 

"While I'm very glad, " he suggested, "to give you what time you need--"

"I've come here because I wanted to have this thing out with you face toface. "

"Well, have it out, " returned the other, smiling but wary. 

The young clergyman drew from his pocket a folded newspaper page towhich was pinned an oblong of paper. This he detached and extended tothe other. 

"What's that?" asked the doctor, making no motion to receive it, for heinstantly recognized it. 

"Your check. "

"You're returning it?"

"Without thanks. "

"You mean to turn down two thousand dollars!" demanded the other in slowincredulity. 

"Exactly. "

"Why?"

"Is that question asked in good faith?"

"It is. "

"Then you haven't seen the letter written by the superintendent of ourSunday School to the Certina Company. "

"What kind of a letter?"

"A testimonial letter--for which your two thousand dollars is payment, Isuppose. "

"Two thousand for a church testimonial!" Dr. Surtaine chuckled at hiscaller's innocence. "Why, I wouldn't pay that for a United StatesSenator. Besides, " he added virtuously, "Certina doesn't buy itstestimonials. "

"Then it's an unfortunate coincidence that your check should have comeright on top of Mr. Smithson's very ill-advised letter. "

By a regular follow-up mechanism devised by himself, every donation byDr. Surtaine was made the basis of a shrewd attempt to extract from thebeneficiary an indorsement of Certina's virtues, or, if not that, of thepersonal character and professional probity of its proprietor. This iswhat had happened in the instance of the check to Mr. Hale's church, Smithson being the medium through whom the attempt was made. 

The quack saw no occasion to explain this to his inquisitor. So hemerely said: "I never saw any such letter, " which was, in a literalsense, true. 

"Nor will you know anything about it, I suppose, until the name of thechurch is spread broadcast through your newspaper advertising. "

Now, it is a rule of the patent medicine trade never to advertise anunwilling testimonial because that kind always has a kick-back. Hence:--

"Oh, if you feel that way about it, " said Dr. Surtaine disdainfully, "I'll keep it out of print. "

"And return it to me, " continued the other, in a tone of calmsequentiality, which might represent either appeal, suggestion, ordemand. 

"Don't see the point, " said the quack shortly. 

"Since you do not intend to use it in your business, it can't be of anyvalue to you, " countered the other. 

"What's its value to you?"

"In plain words, the honor of my church is involved. The check is abribe. The letter is the graft. "

"Nothing of the sort. You come here, a minister of the gospel, " Dr. Surtaine reproached him sorrowfully, "and use hard words about atransaction that is perfectly straight business and happens every day. "

"Not in my church. "

"It isn't your letter, anyhow. You didn't write it. "

"It is written on the official paper of the church. Smithson told me so. He didn't understand what use would be made of it when he wrote it. Takeyour check back, Dr. Surtaine, and give me the letter. "

"Persistency, thy name is a jewel, " said Dr. Surtaine with an air ofscholarliness. "You win. The letter will be returned to-morrow. You'lltake my word, I suppose?"

"Certainly; and thank you. "

"And now, suppose I offered to leave the check in your hands?" asked theDoctor curiously. 

"I couldn't take it, " came the decisive reply. 

"Do you mind telling me why?"

The visitor spread out upon the table the newspaper page which he hadtaken from his pocket. "This morning's 'Clarion, '" he said. 

"So that's the trouble! You've been reading that blackmailing sheet. Why, what's the 'Clarion, ' anyway? A scandal-mongering, yellowblatherskite, on its last legs financially. It's for sale to any bidderwho'd be fool enough to put up money. The 'Clarion' went after mebecause it couldn't get our business. It ain't any straighter than acorkscrew's shadow. "

"Do I understand you to say that this attack is due to your refusal toadvertise in the 'Clarion'?"

"That's it, to a T. And now, you see, Mr. Hale, " continued Dr. Surtainein a tone of long-suffering and dignified injury, "how believing all yousee in print lures you into chasing after strange dogs. "

The visitor's mouth quivered a little at this remarkable paraphrase ofthe Scripture passage; but he said gravely enough:

"Then we get back to the original charges, which the 'Clarion' quotesfrom the 'Church Standard. '"

"And there you are! Up to three years ago the 'Standard' took all theadvertising we'd give them, and glad to get it. Then it went daffy overthe muckraking magazine exposures, and threw out all the proprietarycopy. Now nothing will do but it must roast its old patrons to show offits new virtue. "

"Do you deny what the editor of the 'Standard' said about Certina?"

Dr. Surtaine employed the stock answer of medical quackery whenchallenged on incontrovertible facts. "Why, my friend, " he said withelaborate carelessness, "if I tried to deny everything thatirresponsible parties say about me, I wouldn't have any time left forbusiness. Well, well; plenty of other people will be glad of that twothousand. Turn in the check at the cashier's window, please. Good-dayto you. "

The Reverend Norman Hale retired, leaving the "Clarion's" denunciationlying outspread on the table. 

Meantime, wandering in the hallway, Hal had encountered Milly Neal. 

"Are you very busy, Miss Neal?" he asked. 

"Not more than usual, " she answered, regarding him with bright andkindly eyes. "Did you want me?"

"Yes. I want to know some things about this business. "

"Outside of my own department, I don't know much. "

"Well; inside your own department, then. May I ask some questions?"

With a businesslike air she consulted a tiny watch, then glanced towarda settee at the end of the hall. "I'll give you ten minutes, " sheannounced. "Suppose we sit down over there. "

"Do the writers of those letters--symp-letters, I believe, you callthem--" he began; "do they seem to get benefit out of the advicereturned?"

"What advice? To take Certina? Why, yes. Most of 'em come back formore. "

"You think it good medicine for all that long list of troubles?"

The girl's eyes opened wide. "Of course it's a good medicine!" shecried. "Do you think the Chief would make any other kind?"

"No; certainly not, " he hastened to disclaim. "But it seems like a widerange of diseases to be cured by one and the same prescription. "

"Oh, we've got other proprietaries, too, " she assured him with herpretty air of partnership. "There's the Stomachine, and the headachepowders and the Relief Pills and the liniment; Dr. Surtaine runs 'emall, and every one's a winner. Not that I keep much track of 'em. Weonly handle the Certina correspondence in our room. I know what thatcan do. Why, I take Certina myself when there's anything the matter withme. "

"Do you?" said Hal, much interested. "Well, you're certainly a livingtestimonial to its efficacy. "

"All the people in the shop take it. It's a good tonic, even when you'reall right. "

The listener felt his vague uneasiness soothed. If those who wereactually in the business had faith in the patent medicine's worth, itmust be all that was claimed for it. 

"I firmly believe, " continued the little loyalist, "that the Chief hasdone more good and saved more lives than all the doctors in the country. I'd trust him further than any regular doctor I know, even if he doesn'tbelong to their medical societies and all that. They're jealous of him;that's what's the matter with them. "

"Good for you!" laughed Hal, feeling his doubts melt at the fire of herenthusiasm. "You're a good rooter for the business. "

"So's the whole shop. I guess your father is the most popular employerin Worthington. Have you decided to come into the business, Mr. Surtaine?"

"Do you think I'd make a valuable employee, Miss Milly?" he bantered. 

But to Milly Neal the subject of the Certina factory admitted of nojocularity. She took him under advisement with a grave and quaintdubiety. 

"Have you ever worked?"

"Oh, yes; I'm not wholly a loafer. "

"For a living, I mean. "

"Unfortunately I've never had to. "

"How old are you?"

"Twenty-five. "

"I don't believe I'd want you in my department, if it was up to me, " shepronounced. 

"Do you think I wouldn't be amenable to your stern discipline?"

Still she refused to meet him on his ground of badinage. "It isn'tthat. But I don't think you'd be interested enough to start in at thebottom and work up. "

"Perhaps you're right, Miss Neal, " said Hal, a little startled by theacuteness of her judgment, and a little piqued as well. "Though youcondemn me to a life of uselessness on scant evidence. "

She went scarlet. "Oh, please! You know I didn't mean that. But you seemtoo--too easy-going, too--"

"Too ornamental to be useful?"

Suddenly she stamped her foot at him, flaming into a swift exasperation. "You're laughing at me!" she accused. "I'm going back to my work. Iwon't stay and be made fun of. " Then, in another and rather a dismayedtone, "Oh, I'm forgetting about your being the Chief's son. "

Hal jumped to his feet. "Please promise to forget it when next we meet, "he besought her with winning courtesy. "You've been a kind little friendand adviser. And I thank you for what you have said. "

"Not at all, " she returned lamely, and walked away, her face stillcrimson. 

Returning to the executive suite, the young scion found his fatherimmersed in technicalities of copy with the second advertising writer. 

"Sit down, Boyee, " said he. "I'll be through in a few minutes. " And heresumed his discussion of "black-face, " "36-point, " "indents, " "boxes, "and so on. 

Left to his own devices Hal turned idly to the long table. From thenewspaper which the Reverend Norman Hale had left, there glared up athim in savage black type this heading:--

 CERTINA A FAKE

 _Religious Editor Shows Up Business and Professional_

 _Methods of Dr. L. André Surtaine_

The article was made up of excerpts from a religious weekly's exposé, interspersed with semi-editorial comment. As he skimmed it, Hal's wrathand loyalty waxed in direct ratio. Malice was obvious in every line, tothe incensed reader. But the cause and purpose were not so clear. As helooked up, brooding upon it, he caught his father's eye. 

"Been reading that slush, Hal?"

"Yes, sir. Of course it's all a pack of lies. But what's the reason forit?"

"Blackmail, son. "

"Do they expect to get money out of you this way?"

"No. That isn't it. I've always refused to have any business dealingswith 'em, and this is their way of revenge. "

"But I didn't know you advertised Certina in the local papers. "

"We don't. Proprietaries don't usually advertise in their own towns. We're so well known at home that we don't have to. But some of the sidelines, like the Relief Pills, that go out under another trade name, usespace in the Worthington papers. The 'Clarion' isn't getting that copy, so they're sore. "

"Can't you sue them for libel, Dad?"

"Hardly worth while. Decent people don't read the 'Clarion' anyway, soit can't hurt much. It's best just to ignore such things. "

"Something ought to be done about it, " declared Hal angrily. 

Stuffing the paper into his pocket he took his wrath out into the openair. Hard and fast he walked, but the farther he went the hotter burnedhis ire. 

There was in Harrington Surtaine a streak of the romantic. His innerworld was partly made up of such chimerical notions as are bred in alively mind, not in very close touch with the world of actualities, by along course of novel-reading and theater-going. Deep within him stirreda conviction that there was a proper and suitable, nay, an almostobligatory, method made and provided for just such crises as this:something that a keen-spirited and high-bred youth ought to do about it. Suddenly it came to him. Young Surtaine returned home with his resolvetaken. In the morning he would fare forth, a modern knight redressinghuman wrongs, and lick the editor of the "Clarion. "

Overnight young Mr. Surtaine revised his project. Horsewhipping would beno more than the offending editor deserved. However, he should have hischance. Let him repent and retract publicly, and the castigation shouldbe remitted. Forthwith the avenger sat him down to a task ofcomposition. The apology which, after sundry corrections andemendations, he finally produced in fair copy, was not alone completeand explicit: it was fairly abject. In such terms might a confessed andhopeless criminal cast himself desperately upon the mercy of the court. Previsioning this masterly _apologium_ upon the first page of themorrow's "Clarion, "--or perhaps at the top of the editorialcolumns, --its artificer thrilled with the combined pride of authorshipand poetic justice. 

On the walls of the commodious room which had been set aside in theSurtaine mansion for the young master's study hung a plaited dog-whip. The agent of just reprisals curled this neatly inside his overcoatpocket and set forth upon his errand. It was then ten o'clock in themorning. 

Now, in hunting the larger fauna of the North American continent with adog-whip, it is advantageous to have some knowledge of the game'shabits. Mr. Harrington Surtaine's first error lay in expecting to findthe editorial staff of a morning newspaper on duty in the earlyforenoon. So much a sweeper, emerging from a pile of dust, communicatedto him across a railing, further volunteering that three o'clock wouldbe a well-chosen hour for return, as the boss would be less pressed uponby engagements then, perhaps, than at other hours. 

In the nature of things, the long delay might well have cooled theknightliest ardor. But as he departed from the office, Mr. Surtaine tookwith him a copy of that day's "Clarion" for perusal, and in its pagesdiscovered a "follow-up" of the previous day's outrage. Back home hewent, and added to his literary effort a few more paragraphs wherein theeditorial "we" more profoundly cringed, cowered, and crawled inpenitential abasement. Despite the relish of the words, Hal rather hopedthat the editor would refuse to publish his masterpiece. He itched touse that whip. 

CHAPTER VI

LAUNCHED

For purposes of vital statistics, the head office boy of the Worthington"Daily Clarion" was denominated Reginald Currier. As this chastecognomen was artistically incompatible with his squint eye, his militantswagger, and a general bearing of unrepressed hostility toward allcreated beings, he was professionally known as "Bim. " Journalism, forhim, was comprised in a single tenet; that no visitor of whatsoever kindhad or possibly could have any business of even remotely legitimatenature within the precincts of the "Clarion" office. Tradition of theplace held that a dent in the wall back of his desk marked thetermination of an argument in which Reginald, all unwitting, had essayedto maintain his thesis against the lightweight champion of the State whohad come to call on the sporting editor. 

There had been a lull in the activities of this minor Cerberus when thelight and swinging footfall of one coming up the dim stairway severalsteps at a time aroused his ready suspicions. He bristled forth to therail to meet a tall and rather elegant young man whom he greeted with agrowl to this effect:

"Hoojer wanter see?"

"Is the editor in?"

"Whajjer want uvvum?"

The tall visitor stepped forward, holding out a card. "Take this to him, please, and say that I'd like to see him at once. "

Unwisely, Reginald disregarded the card, which fluttered to the floor. More unwisely, he ignored a certain tensity of expression upon the faceof his interlocutor. Most unwisely he repeated, in his very savagestgrowl:

"Whajjer want uvvum, I said. Didn' chu hear me?"

Graceful and effortless as the mounting lark, Reginald Currier rose andsoared. When he again touched earth, it was only to go spinning into afar corner where he first embraced, then strove with and was finallytripped and thrown by a large and lurking waste-basket. Somewhatperturbed, he extricated himself in time to see the decisive visitordisappear through an inner door. Retrieving the crumpled and rejectedcard from its resting-place, he examined it with interest. The legendupon it was "Mr. Harrington Surtaine. "

"Huh!" grunted Reginald Currier; "I never seen _that_ in no sportingcolumn. "

Once within the sacred precincts, young Mr. Surtaine turned into aninner room, bumped against a man trailing a kite-tail of proof, who hadissued from a door to the right, asked a question, got a response, andentered the editor's den. Two littered desks made up the principalfurniture of the place. Impartially distributed between the further deskand a chair, the form of one lost in slumber sprawled. At the nearer onesat a dyspeptic man of middle age waving a heavy pencil above a galleyproof. 

"Are you the editor?" asked Hal. 

"One editor. I'm Mr. Sterne. How the devil did you get in here?"

"Are you responsible for this?" Hal held up the morning's clipping, headed "Surtaine Fakeries Explained. "

"Who are you?" asked Sterne, nervously hitching in his chair. 

"I am Harrington Surtaine. "

The journalist whistled, a soft, long-drawn note. "Dr. Surtaine's son?"he inquired. 

"Yes. "

"That's awkward. " "Not half as awkward as it's going to be unless youapologize privately and publicly. "

Mr. Sterne looked at him estimatingly, at the same time wadding up anewspaper clipping from the desk in front of him. This he cast at theslumberer with felicitous accuracy. 

"Hoong!" observed that gentleman, starting up and caressing his cheek. 

"Wake up, Mac. Here's a man from the Trouble Belt, with samples toshow. "

The individual thus addressed slowly rose out of his chair, exhibiting asquat, gnarly figure surmounted by a very large head. 

Hal's hand came up out of his pocket, with the dog-whip writhingunpleasantly after it. Simultaneously, the ex-sleeper projected himself, without any particular violence but with astonishing quickness, betweenthe caller and his prey. Without at all knowing whence it was derived, Hal became aware of a large, black, knobby stick, which it wereinadequate to call a cane, in his new opponent's grasp. 

Of physical courage there was no lack in the scion of the Surtaine line. Neither, however, was he wholly destitute of reasoning powers andcaution. The figure before him was of an unquestionable athleticism; theweapon of obvious weight and fiber. The situation was embarrassing. 

"Please don't lick the editor, " said the interrupter of poetic justicegood-humoredly. "Appropriately framed and hung upon the wall, fifteencents apiece. Yah-ah-ah-oo!" he yawned prodigiously. "Calm down, " headded. 

Hal stared at the squat and agile figure. "You're the office bully andbouncer, I suppose, " he said. 

"McGuire Ellis, _at_ your service. Bounce only when compelled. Otherwisepeaceful. _And_ sleepy. "

"My business is with this man, " said Hal, indicating Sterne. "Put upyour toy, then, and state it in words of one syllable. "

For a moment the visitor pondered, drawing the whip through his hands, uncertainly. "I'm not fool enough to go up against that war-club, " heremarked. 

Mr. McGuire Ellis nodded approval. "First sensible thing I've heard yousay, " he remarked. 

"But neither"--here Hal's jaw projected a little--"am I going to letthis thing drop. "

"Law?" inquired Sterne. "If you think there's any libel in what the'Clarion' has said, ask your lawyer. What do you want, anyway?"

Thus recalled to the more pacific phase of his errand, Hal produced hisdocument. "If you've got an iota of decency or fairness about you, you'll print that, " he said. 

Sterne glanced through it swiftly. "Nothing doing, " he statedsuccinctly. "Did Dr. Surtaine send you here with that thing?"

"My father doesn't know that I'm here. "

"Oho! So that's it. Knight-errantry, eh? Now, let me put this thing toyou straight, Mr. Harrington Surtaine. If your father wants to make afair and decent statement, without abuse or calling names, over his ownsignature, the 'Clarion' will run it, at fifty cents a word. "

"You dirty blackmailer!" said Hal slowly. 

"Hard names go with this business, my young friend, " said the othercoolly. 

"At present you've got me checked. But you don't always keep your paidbully with you, I suppose. One of these days you and I will meet--"

"And you'll land in jail. "

"He talks awfully young, doesn't he?" said Mr. Ellis, shaking a solemnhead. 

"As for blackmail, " continued Sterne, a bit eagerly, "there's nothing inthat. We've never asked Dr. Surtaine for a dollar. He hasn't got a thingon us. " "You never asked him for advertising either, I suppose, " saidHal bitterly. 

"Only in the way of business. Just as we go out after any otheradvertising. "

"If he had given you his ads. --"

"Oh, I don't say that we'd have gone after him if he'd been one of ourregular advertisers. Every other paper in town gets his copy; whyshouldn't we? We have to look out for ourselves. We look out for ourpatrons, too. Naturally, we aren't going to knock one of ouradvertisers. Others have got to take their chances. "

"And that's modern journalism!"

"It's the newspaper business, " cried Sterne. "No different from anyother business. "

"No wonder decent people consider newspaper men the scum of the earth, "said Hal, with rather ineffectual generalization. 

"Don't be young!" besought McGuire Ellis wearily. "Pretend you're agrown-up man, anyway. You look as if you might have some sense about yousomewhere, if you'd only give it a chance to filter through. "

Some not unpleasant quirk of speech and manner in the man worked uponHal's humor. 

"Why, I believe you're right about the youngness, " he admitted, with asmile. "Perhaps there are other ways of getting at this thing. Just fora test, --for the last time will you or will you not, Mr. Sterne, publishthis apology?"

"We will not. There's just one person can give me orders. "

"Who is that?"

"The owner. "

"I think you'll be sorry. "

McGuire Ellis turned upon him a look that was a silent reproach toimmaturity. 

"Anything more?" queried Sterne. "Nothing, " said Hal, with an effort atcourtesy. "Good-day to you both. "

"Well, what about it?" asked McGuire Ellis of his chief, as thevisitor's footsteps died away. 

"Nothing about it. When'll the next Surtaine roast be ready?"

"Ought to be finished to-morrow. "

"Schedule it for Thursday. We'll make the old boy squeal yet. Do youbelieve the boy when he says that his father didn't send him?"

"Sounded straight. Pretty straight boy he looked like to me, anyway. "

"Pretty fresh kid, _I_ think. And a good deal of a pin-head. Distributing agency for the old man's money, I guess. He won't getanywhere. "

"Well, I'm not so sure, " said Ellis contemplatively. "Of course he actsgosh-awful young. But did you notice him when he went?"

"Not particularly. "

"He was smiling. "

"Well?"

"Always look out for a guy that smiles when he's licked. He's got acome-back to him. "

Eleven o'clock that night saw McGuire Ellis lift his head from thefive-minute nap which he allowed himself on evenings of light pressureafter the Washington copy was run off, and blink rapidly. At the samemoment Mr. David Sterne gave utterance to an exclamation, partly ofannoyance, partly of surprise. Mr. Harrington Surtaine, wearing anexpression both businesslike and urbane stood in the doorway. 

"Good-evening, gentlemen, " he remarked. 

Mr. Sterne snorted. Mr. Ellis's lips seemed about to form thereproachful monosyllable "young. " Without further greeting the visitortook off his hat and overcoat and hung them on a peg. "You makeyourself at home, " growled Sterne. 

"I do, " agreed Hal, and, discarding his coat, hung that on another peg. "I've got a right to. "

Tilting a slumber-burdened head, McGuire Ellis released his adjurationagainst youthfulness. 

"What's the answer?" demanded Sterne. 

"I've just bought out the 'Clarion, '" said Hal. 

CHAPTER VII

THE OWNER

Some degree of triumph would perhaps have been excusable in the newowner. Most signally had he turned the tables on his enemies. Yet it waswith no undue swagger that he seated himself upon a chair ofproblematical stability, and began to study the pages of the morning'sissue. Sterne regarded him dubiously. 

"This isn't a bluff, I suppose?" he asked. 

"Ask your lawyers. "

"Mac, get Rockwell's house on the 'phone, will you, and find out ifwe've been sold. "

Presently the drawl of Mr. Ellis was heard, pleading with a fair andanonymous Central, whom he addressed with that charming impersonalityemployed toward babies, pet dogs, and telephone girls, as "Tootsie, " toabjure juvenility, and give him 322 Vincent, in a hurry. 

"You'll excuse me, Mr. Surtaine, " said Sterne, in a new and ingratiatingtone, for which Hal liked him none the better, "but verifying news hascome to be an instinct with me. "

"It's straight, " said Ellis, turning his heavy face to his principal, after a moment's talk over the wire. "Bought _and_ sold, lock, stock, and barrel. "

"Have you had any newspaper experience, Mr. Surtaine?" inquired Sterne. 

"Not on the practical side. "

"As owner I suppose you'll want to make changes. "

"Undoubtedly. "

"They all do, " sighed Sterne. "But my contract has several months--""Yes: I've been over the contracts with a lawyer. Yours and Mr. Ellis's. He says they won't hold. "

"All newspaper contracts are on the cheese, " observed McGuire Ellisphilosophically. "Swiss cheese, at that. Full of holes. "

"I don't admit it, " protested Sterne. "Even so, to turn a man out--"

A snort of disgust from Ellis interrupted the plea. The glare with whichthat employee favored his boss fairly convicted the seamed and grayingeditor of willful and captious immaturity. 

"Contract or no contract, you'll both be fairly treated, " said the newowner shortly. 

"Who, me?" inquired Ellis. "You can go rapidly to hell and take mycontract with you. I know when I'm fired. "

"Who fired you?"

"I did. To save you the satisfaction. "

"Very good of you, I'm sure, " drawled Hal in a tone of loftysuperiority, turning away. Out of the corner of his eye, however, hecould see McGuire Ellis making pantomime as of one spanking a baby withfervor. Amusement helped him to the recovery of his temper. 

"Working under an amateur journalist will just suit Sterne, " observedEllis, in a tone quite as offensive as Hal's. 

"Cut it out, Mac, " suggested his principal. "There's no occasion forhard words. "

"Amateur isn't the hardest word in the dictionary, " said Hal quietly. "Perhaps I'll become a professional in time. "

"Buying a newspaper doesn't make a newspaper man. "

"Well, I'm not too old to learn. But see here, Mr. Ellis, doesn't yourcontract hold you?"

"The contract that you said was no good? Do you expect it to work allone way?"

"Well, professional honor, then, I should suppose--"

"Professional honor!" cut in Ellis, with scathing contempt. "You stepin here and buy a paper out of a freak of revenge--"

"Hold on, there! How can you know my motive?"

"What else could it be?"

Hal was silent, finding no answer. 

"You see! To feed your mean little spite, you've taken over control ofthe biggest responsibility, for any one with any decent sense ofresponsibility, that a man could take on his shoulders. And what willyou make of it? A toy! A rich kid's plaything. "

"Well, what would you make of it, yourself?" asked Hal. 

"A teacher and a preacher. A force to tear down and to build up. To ripthis old town wide open, and remould it nearer to the heart's desire!That's what a newspaper might be, and ought to be, and could be, by Godin Heaven, if the right man ever had a free hand at it. "

"Don't get profane, my boy, " tittered Sterne. 

"You think that's swearing?" retorted Ellis. "Yes; _you_ would. But Iwas nearer praying then than I've ever been since I came to this office. We'll never live to see that prayer answered, you and I. "

"Perhaps, " began Hal. 

"Oh, perhaps!" Ellis snatched the word from his lips. "Perhaps you'rethe boy to do it, eh? Why, it's your kind that's made journalism thesewer of the professions, full of the scum and drainings of every othertrade's failures. What chance have we got to develop ideals when yououtsiders control the whole business?"

"Hullo!" observed Sterne with a grin. "Where do you come in on theidealist business, Mac? This is new talk from you. "

"New? Why wouldn't it be new? Would I waste it on you, Dave Sterne?"

"You certainly never have since I've known you. "

"Call it easing up my mind if you like. I can afford that luxury, nowthat you 're not my boss any longer. Not but what it's all Greek toyou. "

"Had a drink to-day, Mac?"

"No, damn you. But I'm going out of here and take a hundred. First, though, I'm going to tell young Bib-and-Tucker over there a thing or twoabout his new toy. Oh, yes: you can listen, too, Sterne, but it won'tget to your shelled-in soul. "

"You in'trust muh, strangely, " said Sterne, and looked over to Hal forcountenance of his uneasy amusement. 

But the new owner did not appear amused. He had faced around in hischair and now sat regarding the glooming and exalted Ellis with anintent surprise. 

"A plaything! That's what you think you've bought, young Mr. HarringtonSurtaine. One of two things you'll do with it: either you'll try to runit yourself, and you'll dip deeper and deeper into Poppa's medicine-bagtill he gets sick of it and closes you up; or you'll hire some practicalman to manage it, and insist on dividends that'll keep it just where itis now. And that's pretty low, even for a Worthington paper. "

"It won't live on blackmail, at any rate, " said Hal, his mind revertingto its original grievance. 

"Maybe it will. You won't know it if it does. Anyhow, it'll live onsuppression and distortion and manipulation of news, because it'll haveto, if it's going to live at all. "

"You mean that is the basis of the newspaper business as it is to-day?"

"Generally speaking. It certainly is in Worthington. "

"You're frank, at any rate. Where's all your glowing idealism now?"

"Vanished into mist. All idealism goes that way, doesn't it?"

"Not if you back it up with work. You see, Mr. Ellis, I'm something ofan idealist myself. "

"The Certina brand of idealism. Guaranteed under the Pure Thought andDeed Act. "

"Our money may have been made a little--well, blatantly, " said Hal, flushing. "But at least it's made honestly. " He was too intent on hissubject to note either Sterne's half-wink or Ellis's stare of blankamazement. "And I'm going to run this newspaper on the same highprinciples. I don't quite reconcile your standards with the practices ofthis paper, Mr. Ellis--"

"Mac has nothing to do with the policy of the paper, Mr. Surtaine, " putin Sterne. "He's only an employee. "

"Then why don't you get work on some paper that practices yourprinciples?"

"Hard to find. Not having been born with a silver spoon, full ofCertina, in my mouth, I have to earn my own living. It isn't profitableto make a religion of one's profession, Mr. Surtaine. Not that I thinkyou need the warning. But I've tried it, and I know. "

"Do you know, it's rather a pity you don't like me, " said Hal, withruminative frankness. "I think I could use some of that religion ofyours. "

"Not on the market, " returned Ellis shortly. 

"You see, " pursued the other, "it's really my own money I've put intothis paper: half of all I've got. "

"How much did you pay for it?" inquired Ellis: "since we're telling eachother our real names. "

"Two hundred and thirty thousand dollars. "

"Whee-ee-ee-ew!" Both his auditors joined in the whistle. 

"They asked two-fifty. "

"Half of that would have bought, " said Sterne. 

Hal digested that information in silence for a minute. "I suppose I waseasy. Hurry never yet made a good bargain. But, now that I've got thispaper I'm going to run it myself. "

"On the rocks, " prophesied McGuire Ellis. "Utter and complete shipwreck. I'm glad I'm off. "

"Is it your habit, Mr. Ellis, to run at the first suggestion ofdisaster?"

Ellis looked his questioner up and down. "Say the rest of it, " hebarked. 

"Why, it seems to me you're still an officer of this ship. Doesn't itenter into your ethics somewhere that you ought to stick by her untilthe new captain can fill your place, and not quit in the face of theshipwreck you foresee?"

"Humph, " grunted McGuire Ellis, "I guess you're not quite as young as Ithought you were. How long would you want me to stay?"

"About a year. "

"What!"

"On an unbreakable contract. To be editorial manager. You see, I'mprepared to buy ideals. "

"What about my opinion of amateur journalism?"

"You'll just have to do the best you can about that. "

"Give me till to-morrow to think it over. "

"All right. "

Ellis put down the hat and cane which he had picked up preparatory tohis departure. 

"Not going out after those hundred drinks, eh, Mac?" laughed Sterne. 

"Indefinitely postponed, " replied the other. 

"The first thing to do, " said Hal decisively, "is to make amends. Mr. Sterne, the 'Clarion' is to print a full retraction of the attacks uponmy father, at once. "

"Yes, sir, " assented Sterne, slavishly responsive to the new authority. 

Not so McGuire Ellis. "If you do that you'll make a fool of your ownpaper, " he said bluntly. 

"Make a fool of the paper by righting a rank injustice?"

"Just the point. It isn't a rank injustice. "

"See here, Mr. Sterne: isn't it a fact that this attack was made becausemy father doesn't advertise with you?"

The editor twisted uneasily in his chair. "A newspaper's got to lookout for its own interests, " he asserted defensively. 

"Please answer my question. "

"Well--yes; I suppose it is so. "

"Then you're simply operating a blackmailing scheme to get the Certinaadvertising for the 'Clarion. '"

"The Certina advertising?" repeated Sterne in obvious surprise. 

"Certina doesn't advertise locally. Most patent medicines don't. It's asort of fashion of the trade not to, " explained Ellis. 

"What on earth is all this about, then?"

The two newspaper men exchanged a glance. Obviously the new bossunderstood little of his progenitor's extensive business interests. "Might as well know sooner as later, " decided Ellis, aloud. "It's theNeverfail Company of Cincinnati that we got turned down on. "

"What is the Neverfail Company?"

"One of Dr. Surtaine's alia--one of the names he does business under. Every other paper in town gets their copy. We don't. Hence the roast. "

"What sort of business is it?"

"Relief Pills. Here's the ad. In this morning's 'Banner. '"

The name struck chill on Hal's memory. He stared at the sinister oblongof type, vaguely sensing in its covert promises the taint, yet failingto apprehend the full villainy of the lure. 

"Whatever the advertising is, " said he, "the principle is the same. "

"Precisely, " chirped Ellis. 

"And you call that decent journalism?"

"No: my extremely youthful friend, I do not. What's more, I never did. "

"If you want a retraction published, " said Sterne, spreading wide hishands as one offering fealty, "wouldn't it be just as well to prefaceit with an announcement of the taking-over of the paper by yourself?"

"That itself would be tantamount to an announced reversal of policy, "mused Hal. 

Again Sterne and Ellis glanced at each other, but with a differentexpression this time. The look meant that they had recognized in theintruder a flash of that mysterious sense vaguely known as "thenewspaper instinct, " with which a few are born, but which most menacquire by giving mortgages on the blest illusions of youth. 

"Cor-_rect_, " said Ellis. 

"Let the retraction rest for the present. I'll decide it later. "

The door was pushed open, and a dark man of perhaps thirty, with abegrimed and handsome face, entered. In one hand he held a proof. 

"About this paragraph, " he said to Sterne in a slightly foreign accent. "Is it to run to-morrow?"

"What paragraph is that?"

"The one-stick editorial guying Dr. Surtaine. "

"Kill it, " said Sterne hastily. "This is Mr. Harrington Surtaine. Mr. Surtaine, this is Max Veltman, foreman of our composing-room. "

Slowly the printer turned his fine, serious face from one to the other. "Ah, " he said presently. "So it is arranged. We do not print thisparagraph. Good!"

Impossible to take offense at the tone. Yet the smile which accompaniedit was so plainly a sneer that Hal's color rose. 

"Mr. Surtaine is the new owner of the 'Clarion, '" explained Ellis. 

"In that case, of course, " said Veltman quietly. "Good-night, gentlemen. "

"Good-looking chap, " remarked Hal. "But what a curious expression. "

"Veltman's a thinker and a crank, " said Ellis. "If he had a little morebalance he'd make his mark. But he's a sort of melancholiac. Ill-health, nerves, and a fixed belief in the general wrongness of creation. "

"Well. I'll get to know more about the shop to-morrow, " said Hal. "I'mfor home and sleep just now. See you at--what time, by the way?"

"Noon, " said Sterne. "If that suits you. "

"Perfectly. Good-night. "

Arrived at home, Hal went straight to the big ground-floor librarywhere, as the light suggested, his father sat reading. 

"Dad, do you want a retraction printed?"

"Of the 'Clarion' article?"

"Yes. "

"From 'Want' to 'Get' the road runs rocky, " said the senior Surtainewhimsically. 

"I've just come from removing a few of the rocks at the 'Clarion'office. "

"Go down to lick the editor?" Dr. Surtaine's eyes twinkled. 

"There may have been some such notion in the back of my head. "

"Expensive exercise. Did you do it?"

"No. He had a club. "

"If I were running a slander-machine like the 'Clarion' I'd wantsix-inch armor-plate and a quick-fire battery. Well, what did you do?"

"Bought the paper. "

"You needn't have gone down town to do that. It comes to the office. "

"You don't understand. I've bought the 'Clarion, ' presses, plant, circulation, franchise, good-will, ill-will, high, low, jack, andthe game. "

"You! What for?"

"Why, " said Hal thoughtfully; "mainly because I lost my temper, Ibelieve. "

"Sounds like a pretty heavy loss, Boy-ee. "

"Two hundred and thirty thousand dollars. Oh, the prodigal son hasn'tgot anything on me, Dad, when it comes to scattering patrimonies, " heconcluded a little ruefully. 

"What are you going to do with it, now you've got it?"

"Run it. I've bought a career. "

"Now you're talking. " The big man jumped up and set both hands on Hal'sshoulders. "That's the kind of thing I like to hear, and in the kind ofway it ought to be said. You go to it, Hal. I'll back you, as far as youlike. "

"No, sir. I thank you just the same: this is my game. "

"Want to play it alone, do you?"

"How else can I make a career of it?"

"Right you are, Boyee. But it takes something behind money to build up anewspaper. And the 'Clarion' 'll take some building up. "

"Well, I've got aspiration enough, if it comes to that, " smiled Hal. 

"Aspiration's a good starter: but it's perspiration that makes abusiness go. Are you ready to take off your coat and work?"

"I certainly am. There's a lot for me to learn. "

"There is. Everything. Want some advice from the Old Man?"

"I most surely do, Dad. "

"Listen here, then. A newspaper is a business proposition. Never forgetthat. All these hifalutin' notions about its being a palladium and thevoice of the people and the guardian of public interests are good enoughto talk about on the editorial page. Gives a paper a following, thatkind of guff does. But the duty of a newspaper is the duty of any otherbusiness, to make money. There's the principle, the policy, thepolitics, ethics, and religion of the newspaper in a nutshell. Now, howare you going to make money with the 'Clarion'?"

"By making it a better paper than the others. "

"Hm! Better. Yes: that's all right, so long as you mean the right thingby 'better. ' Better for the people that want to use it and can pay forusing it. "

"The readers, you mean?"

"The advertisers. It's the advertisers that pay for the paper, not thereaders. You've got to have circulation, of course, to get theadvertising. But remember this, always: circulation is only a means toan end. It never yet paid the cost of getting out a daily, and it neverwill. "

"I know enough of the business to understand that. "

"Good! Look at the 'Clarion, ' as it is. It's got a good circulation. Andthat lets it out. It can't get the advertising. So it's losing money, hand over fist. "

"Why can't it?"

"It's yellow. It doesn't treat the business interests right. "

"Sterne says they always look after their own advertisers. "

"Oh, that! Naturally they have to. Any newspaper will do that. But theyprint a lot of stuff about strikes and they're always playing up to thelaboring man and running articles about abuses and pretending to be thefriend of the poor and all that slush, and the better class of businesswon't stand for it. Once a paper gets yellow, it has to keep on. Otherwise it loses what circulation it's got. No advertiser wants to useit then. The department stores do go into the 'Clarion' because it getsto a public they can't reach any other way. But they give it just aslittle space as they can. It isn't popular. "

"Well, I don't intend to make the paper yellow. "

"Of course you don't. Keep your mind on it as a business proposition andyou won't go wrong. Remember, it's the advertiser that pays. Think ofthat when you write an editorial. Frame it and hang it where everysub-editor and reporter can't help but see it. Ask of every bit of news, 'Is this going to get me an advertiser? Is that going to lose me anadvertiser?' Be on the lookout to do your advertisers favors. Theyappreciate little things like special notices and seeing their names inprint, in personals, and that kind of thing. And keep the paperoptimistic. Don't knock. Boost. Business men warm up to that. Why, Boy-ee, if you'll just stick to the policy I've outlined, you'll notonly make a big success, but you'll have a model paper that'll make anew era in local journalism; a paper that every business man in townwill swear by and that'll be the pride of Worthington before you'rethrough. "

Fired by the enthusiasm of his fair vision of a higher journalism, Dr. Surtaine had been walking up and down, enlivening, with swinging arms, the chief points of his Pæan of Policy. Now he dropped into his chairand with a change of voice said:

"Never mind about that retraction, Hal. "

"No?"

"No. Forget it. When do you start in work?"

"To-morrow. "

"You must save to-morrow evening. "

"For what?"

"You're invited to the Festus Willards'. Mrs. Willard was particularlyanxious you should come. "

"But I don't know them, Dad. "

"Doesn't matter. It's about the most exclusive house in town. A cutabove me, I can tell you. I've never so much as set foot in it. "

"Then I won't go, " declared his son, flushing. 

"Yes: you must, " insisted his father anxiously. "Don't mind about me. I'm not ambitious socially. I told you some folks don't like thebusiness. It's too noisy. But you won't throw out any echoes. You'll go, Boyee?"

"Since you want me to, of course, sir. But I shan't find much time forplay if I'm to learn my new trade. "

"Oh, you can hire good teachers, " laughed his father. "Well, I'msleepy. Good-night, Mr. Editor. "

"Good-night, Dad. I could use some sleep myself. " But thought shared thepillow with Hal Surtaine's head. Try as he would to banish thecontestants, Dr. Surtaine's Pæan of Policy and McGuire Ellis'simpassioned declaration of faith did battle for the upper hand in hisformulating professional standards. The Doctor's theory was theclean-cut, comprehensible, and plausible one. But something within Halresponded to the hot idealism of the fighting journalist. He wantedEllis for a fellow workman. And his last waking notion was that hewanted and needed Ellis mainly because Ellis had told him to go to hell. 

CHAPTER VIII

A PARTNERSHIP

All the adjectives in the social register were exhausted by the dailypapers in describing Mrs. Festus Willard's dance. Without following theminto that verbal borderland wherein "recherché" vies with "exclusive, "and "chic" disputes precedence with "distingué, " it is sufficient forthe purposes of this narrative to chronicle the fact that the pick ofWorthington society was there, and not much else. Also, if I may borrowfrom the Society Editor's convenient phrase-book, "Among those present"was Mr. Harrington Surtaine. 

For reasons connected with his new venture, Hal had come late. He wasstanding near the doorway wondering by what path to attain to anunidentified hostess, when Miss Esmé Elliot, at the moment engaged withthat very hostess on some matter of feminine strategy with which we haveno concern, spied him. 

"Who is the young Greek godling, hopelessly lost in the impenetrabledepths of your drawing-room?" she propounded suddenly. 

"Who? What? Where?" queried Mrs. Willard, thus abruptly recalled to herduties. 

"Yonder by the doorway, looking as if he didn't know a soul. "

"It's some stranger, " said the hostess, trying to peer around anintervening palm. "I must go and speak to him. "

"Wait. Festus has got him. "

For the host, a powerful, high-colored man in his early forties, with aslight limp, had noticed the newcomer and was now introducing himself. Miss Elliot watched the process with interest. 

"Jinny, " she announced presently, "I want that to play with. "

The stranger turned a little, so that his full face was shown. "It's HalSurtaine!" exclaimed Mrs. Willard. 

"I don't care who it is. It looks nice. Please, mayn't I have it to playwith?"

"Will you promise not to break it? It used to be a particular pet ofmine. "

"When?"

"Oh, years ago. When you were in your cradle. "

"Where?"

"On the St. Lawrence. Several summers. He was my boy-knight, andchaperon, and protector. Such a dear, chivalrous boy!"

"Was he in love with you?" demanded Miss Elliot with lively interest. 

"Of course he wasn't. He was a boy of fifteen, and I a mature youngwoman of twenty-one. "

"He _was_ in love with you, " accused the girl, noting a brightness inher friend's color. 

"There was a sort of knightly devotion, " admitted the other demurely. "There always is, isn't there, in a boy of that age, for a woman yearsolder?"

"And you didn't know him at first?"

"It's ten years since I've set eyes on him. He doesn't even know that Iam the Mrs. Festus Willard who is giving this party. "

"Festus is looking around for you. They'll be over here in a minute. No!Don't get up yet. I want you to do something for me. "

"What is it, Norrie?"

"I'm not going to feel well, about supper-time. "

"Why not?"

"Would _you_ feel well if you'd been in to dinner three times in thelast week with Will Douglas, and then had to go in to supper with him, too?"

"But I thought you and Will--"

"I'm tired of having people think, " said Miss Elliot plaintively. "Toomuch Douglas! Yes; I shall be quite indisposed, about one dance beforesupper. "

"I'll send you home. "

"No, you won't, Jinny, dear. Because I shall suddenly recover, about twominutes before the oysters arrive. "

"Norrie!"

"Truly I shall. Quite miraculously. And you're to see that the youngGreek godling doesn't get any other partner for supper--"

"Esmé!!"

"--because I'm sure he'd rather have me, " she concluded superbly. 

"Eleanor Stanley Maxwell Elliot!"

"Oh, you may call me _all_ my names. I'm accustomed to abuse from you. But you'll arrange it, _dear_ Jinny, won't you!"

"Did you ever fail of anything when you put on that wheedling face andtone?"

"Never, " said Miss Elliot with composure, but giving her friend a littlehug. "Here they come. I fly. Bring him to me later. "

Piloted by Festus Willard, Hal crossed the floor, and beheld, moving tomeet him with outstretched hands, a little woman with an elfin face andthe smile of a happy child. 

"Have you forgotten me, Hal?"

"Lady Jeannette!" he cried, the old boyhood name springing to his lips. "What are you doing here?"

"Didn't Festus tell you?" She looked fondly up at her big husband. "Ididn't know that the surprise would last up to the final moment. "

"It's the very best surprise that has happened to me in Worthington, "declared Hal emphatically. 

"We're quite prepared to adopt you, Surtaine, " said Willard pleasantly. "Jinny has never ceased to wonder why she heard nothing from you inreply to her note telling of our engagement. "

"Never got it, " said Hal promptly. "And I've wondered why she dropped meso unaccountably. It's rather luck for me, you know, " he added, smiling, "to find friends ready-made in a strange town. "

"Oh, you'll make friends enough, " declared Mrs. Willard. "The presentmatter is to make acquaintances. Come and dance this dance out with meand then I'll take you about and introduce you. Are you as good a danceras you used to be?"

Hal was, and something more. And in his hostess he had one of the bestpartners in Worthington. Cleverly she had judged that the "Boston" withher, if he were proficient, would be the strongest recommendation to thebuds of the place. And, indeed, before they had gone twice about thefloor, many curious and interested eyes were turned upon them. Not theleast interested were those of Miss Elliot, who privately decided, overa full and overflowing programme, that she would advance her recovery toone dance before the supper announcement. 

"You're going to be a social success, Hal, " whispered his partner. "Ifeel it. And _where_ did you learn that delightful swing after the dip?"

"Picked it up on shipboard. But I shan't have much time for gayeties. You see, I've become a workingman. "

"Tell me about it to-morrow. You're to dine with us; quite _en famille_. You _must_ like Festus, Hal. "

"I should think that would be easy. "

"It is. He is just the finest, cleanest, straightest human being in theworld, " she said soberly. "Now, come away and meet a million people. "

So late was it that most of the girls had no vacancies on theirprogrammes. But Jeannette Willard was both a diplomat and a bit of adespot, socially, and several of the young eligibles relinquished, withsurprisingly good grace, so Hal felt, their partners, in favor of thenewcomer. He did not then know the tradition of Worthington's best set, that hospitality to a stranger well vouched for should be the commonconcern of all. Very pleasant and warming he found this atmosphere, after his years abroad, with its happy, well-bred frankness, its opencomradeship, and obvious, "first-name" intimacies. But though every onehe met seemed ready to extend to him, as a friend of the Willards, aready welcome, he could not but feel himself an outsider, and at theconclusion of a dance he drew back into a side passage, to watch for atime. 

Borne on a draught of air from some invisibly opening door behind himthere came to his nostrils the fairy-spice of the arbutus-scent. Heturned quickly, and saw her almost at his shoulder, the girl of thelustrous face. Behind her was Festus Willard. 

"Ah, there you are, Surtaine, " he said. "I've been looking for you topresent you to Miss Elliot. Esmé, this is Mr. Harrington Surtaine. "

She neither bowed nor moved in acknowledgment of Hal's greeting, butlooked at him with still, questioning eyes. The springtide hue of thewild flower at her breast was matched in her cheek. Her head was heldhigh, bringing out the pure and lovely line of chin and throat. To Halit seemed that he had never seen anything so beautiful and desirable. 

"Is it a bet?" Festus Willard's quiet voice was full of amusement. "Haveyou laid a wager as to which will keep silent longest?"

At this, Hal recovered himself, though stumblingly. 

"'Fain would I speak, '" he paraphrased, "'but that I fear to--to--to--'"

"Stutter, " suggested Willard, with solicitous helpfulness. The girlbroke into a little trill of mirth, too liquid for laughter; beingrather the sound of a brooklet chuckling musically over its privatedelectations. 

"If I could have a dance with you, " suggested Hal, "I'm sure it wouldhelp my aphasia. "

"I'm afraid, " she began dubiously, "that--No; here's one just beforesupper. If you haven't that--"

"No: I haven't, " said Hal hastily. "It's awfully good of you--and luckyfor me. "

"I'll be with Mrs. Willard, " said the girl, nodding him a cheerfulfarewell. 

Just what or who his partners for the next few dances were, Hal couldnot by any effort recall the next day. He was conscious, on the floor, only of an occasional glimpse of her, a fugitive savor of the wildwoodfragrance, and then she had disappeared. 

Later, as he returned from a talk with Festus Willard outside, he becameaware of the challenge of deep-hued, velvety eyes, regarding him with asomewhat petulant expression, and recognized his acquaintance of themotor car and the railroad terminal. 

"You'd forgotten me, " accused Miss Kathleen Pierce, pouting, as he cameto greet her. 

Hal's disclaimer had sufficient diplomatic warmth to banish herdispleasure. She introduced to him as Dr. Merritt a striking-looking, gray-haired young man, who had come up at the same time with ananticipatory expression. This promptly vanished when she saidoffhandedly to him:

"You've had three dances with me already, Hugh. I'm going to give thisone to Mr. Surtaine if he wants it. "

"Of course I want it, " said Hal. 

"Not that you deserve it, " she went on. "You should have come aroundearlier. I'm not in the habit of giving dances this late in theevening. "

"How could I break through the solid phalanx of supplicating admirers?"

"At least, you might have tried. I want to try that new step I saw youdoing with Mrs. Willard. And I always get what I want. "

"Unfortunate young lady!"

"Why unfortunate?"

"To have nothing seem unattainable. Life must pall on you terribly. "

"Indeed, it doesn't. I like being a spoiled child, don't you? Don't youthink it's fun having everything you want to buy, and having a leadingcitizen for a father?"

"Is your father a leading citizen?" asked Hal, amused. 

"Of course. So's yours. Neither of them quite knows which is the mostleading. Dr. Surtaine is the most popular, but I suppose Pop is the mostinfluential. Between the two of them they pretty much run this littleold burg. Of course, " she added with careless insolence, "Pop has got itall over Dr. Surtaine socially. 

"I humbly feel that I am addressing local royalty, " said Hal, smilingsardonically. 

"Who? Me? Oh, I'm only the irresponsible child of wealth and power. Dr. Merritt called me that once--before I got him tamed. " Turning to look atthe gray young man who stood not far off, and noting the quiet force andcompetence of the face, Hal hazarded a guess to himself that the veryfrank young barbarian with whom he was talking was none too modest inher estimate of her own capacities. "Mrs. Willard is our local queen, "she continued. "And Esmé Elliot is the princess. Have you met Esmé yet?"

"Yes. "

"Then, of course, nobody else has a chance--so long as you're the newesttoy. Still, you might find a spare hour between-times to come and callon us. Come on; let's dance. "

"Pert" was the mildest term to which Hal reduced his characterization ofMiss Pierce, by the time the one-step ended. Nevertheless, he admittedto himself that he had been amused. His one chief concern now, however, was the engagement with Miss Elliot. 

When finally his number came around, he found her calmly explaining to awell-favored young fellow with a pained expression that he must havemade a mistake about the number, while Mrs. Willard regarded her withmingled amusement and disfavor. 

"Don't expect me to dance, " she said as Hal approached. "I've twisted myfoot. "

"I'm sorry, " said he blankly. 

"Let's find a quiet place where we can sit. And then you may get me somesupper. "

His face lighted up. Esmé Elliot remarked to herself that she had seldomseen a more pleasing specimen of the youth of the species. 

"This is rather like a fairy-gift, " he began eagerly, as they made theirway to a nook under the stairway, specially adapted to two people ofhermit tastes. "I shouldn't have dared to expect such good fortune. "

"You'll find me quite a fairy-godmother if you're good. Besides, " sheadded with calm audacity, "I wanted you to myself. "

"Why?" he asked, amused and intrigued. 

"Curiosity. My besetting sin. You're a phenomenon. "

"An ambiguous term. It may mean merely a freak. "

"A new young man in Worthington, " she informed him, "is a phenomenon, asocial phenomenon. Of course he may be a freak, also, " she addedjudicially. 

"Newness is a charm that soon wears off. "

"Then you're going to settle down here?"

"Yes. I've joined the laboring classes. "

"What kind of labor?"

"Journalism. I've just started in, to-day. "

"Really! Which paper?"

"The 'Clarion. '"

Her expressive face changed. "Oh, " she said, a little blankly. 

"You don't like the 'Clarion'?"

"I almost never see it. So I don't know. And you're going to begin atthe bottom? That's quite brave of you. "

"No; I'm going to begin at the top. That's braver. Anyway, it's morereckless. I've bought the paper. "

"Have you! I hadn't heard of it. "

"Nobody's heard of it yet. No outsider. You're the first. "

"How delightful!" She leaned closer and looked into his face withshining eyes. "Tell me more. What are you going to do with it?"

"Learn something about it, first. "

"It's rather yellow, isn't it?"

"Putting it mildly, yes. That's one of the things I want to change. "

"Oh, I wish I owned a newspaper!"

"Do you? Why?"

"For the power of it. To say what you please and make thousands listen. "The pink in her cheeks deepened. "There's nothing in the world like thethrill of that sense of power. It's the one reason why I'd be almostwilling to be a man. "

"Perhaps you wouldn't need to be. Couldn't you exert the power withoutactually owning the newspaper?"

"How?"

"By exercising your potent influence upon the obliging proprietor, " hesuggested smiling. 

There came a dancing light in her eyes. "Do you think I'd make a goodGoddess-Outside-the-Machine, to the 'Daily Clarion'?"

"Charming! For a two-cent stamp--no, for a spray of your arbutus, I'llsell you an editorial sphere of influence. "

"Generous!" she cried. "What would my duties be?"

"To advise the editor and proprietor on all possible points, " helaughed. 

"And my privileges?"

"The right of a queen over a slave. "

"We move fast, " she said. Her fingers went to the cluster ofdelicate-hued bells in her bodice. But it was a false gesture. EsméElliot was far too practiced in her chosen game to compromise herself tocomment by allowing a man whom she had just met to display her favor inhis coat. 

"Am I to have my price?" His voice was eager now. She looked very lovelyand childlike, with her head drooping, consideringly, above the flowers. 

"Give me a little time, " she said. "To undertake a partnership on fiveminutes' notice--that isn't business, is it?"

"Nor is this--wholly, " he said, quite low. 

Esmé straightened up. "I'm starved, " she said lightly. "Are you notgoing to get me any supper?"

After his return she held the talk to more impersonal topics, advisinghim, with an adorable assumption of protectiveness, whom he was to meetand dance with, and what men were best worth his while. At parting, shegave him her hand. 

"I will let you know, " she said, "about the--the sphere of influence. "

Hal danced several more numbers, with more politeness than enjoyment, then sought out his hostess to say good-night. 

"I'll see you to-morrow, then, " she said: "and you shall tell me allyour news. "

"You're awfully good to me, Lady Jeannette, " said he gratefully. "Without you I'd be a lost soul in this town. "

"Most people are good to you, I fancy, Hal, " said she, looking him overwith approval. "As for being a lost soul, you don't look it. In factyou look like a very well-found soul, indeed. "

"It _is_ rather a cheerful world to live in, " said Hal with apparentirrelevance. 

"I hope they haven't spoiled you, " she said anxiously. "Are you vain, Hal? No: you don't look it. "

"What on earth should I be vain about? I've never done anything in theworld. "

"No? Yet you've improved. You've solidified. What have you been doing toyourself? Not falling in love?"

"Not that, certainly, " he replied, smiling. "Nothing much buttraveling. "

"How did you like Esmé Elliot?" she asked abruptly. 

"Quite attractive, " said Hal in a flat tone. 

"Quite attractive, indeed!" repeated his friend indignantly. "In allyour travelings, I don't believe you've ever seen any one else half aslovely and lovable. "

"Local pride carries you far, Lady Jeannette, " laughed Hal. 

"And I _had_ intended to have her here to dine to-morrow; but as you'reso indifferent--"

"Oh, don't leave her out on my account, " said Hal magnanimously. 

"I believe you're more than half in love with her already. "

"Well, you ought to be a good judge unless you've wholly forgotten theold days, " retorted Hal audaciously. 

Jeannette Willard laughed up at him. "Don't try to flirt with amiddle-aged lady who is most old-fashionedly in love with her husband, "she advised. "Keep your bravo speeches for Esmé! She's used to them. "

"Rather goes in for that sort of thing, doesn't she?"

"You mean flirtation? Someone's been talking to you about her, " saidMrs. Willard quickly. "What did they say?"

"Nothing in particular. I just gathered the impression. "

"Don't jump to any conclusions about Esmé, " advised his friend. "Mostmen think her a desperate flirt. She does like attention and admiration. What woman doesn't? And Esmé is very much a woman. "

"Evidently!"

"If she seems heartless, it's because she doesn't understand. She enjoysher own power without comprehending it. Esmé has never been reallyinterested in any man. If she had ever been hurt, herself, she would bemore careful about hurting others. Yet the very men who have beenhardest hit remain her loyal friends. "

"A tribute to her strategy. "

"A finer quality than that. It is her own loyalty, I think, that makesothers loyal to her. But the men here aren't up to her standard. She iscomplex, and she is ambitious, without knowing it. Fine and clean as ourWorthington boys are, there isn't one of them who could appeal to theimagination and idealism of a girl like Esmé Elliot. For Esmé, under allthat lightness, is an idealist; the idealist who hasn't found herideal. "

"And therefore hasn't found herself. "

She flashed a glance of inquiry and appraisal at him. "That's rathersubtle of you, " she said. "I hope you don't know _too_ much about women, Hal. "

"Not I! Just a shot in the dark. "

"I said there wasn't a man here up to her standard. That isn't quitetrue. There is one, --you met him to-night, --but he has troubles of hisown, elsewhere, " she added, smiling. "I had hoped--but there has alwaysbeen a friendship too strong for the other kind of sentiment between himand Esmé. "

"For a guess, that might be Dr. Merritt, " said Hal. 

"How did you know?" she cried. 

"I didn't. Only, he seems, at a glance, different and of a broader gaugethan the others. "

"You're a judge of men, at least. As for Esmé, I suppose she'll marrysome man much older than herself. Heaven grant he's the right one! Forwhen she gives, she will give royally, and if the man does not meet heron her own plane--well, there will be tragedy enough for two!"

"Deep waters, " said Hal. The talk had changed to a graver tone. 

"Deep and dangerous. Shipwreck for the wrong adventurer. But El Doradofor the right. Such a golden El Dorado, Hal! The man I want for EsméElliot must have in him something of woman for understanding, andsomething of genius for guidance, and, I'm afraid, something of theangel for patience, and he must be, with all this, wholly a man. "

"A pretty large order, Lady Jeannette. Well, I've had my warning. Good-night. "

"Perhaps it wasn't so much warning as counsel, " she returned, a littlewistfully. "How poor Esmé's ears must be burning. There she goes now. What a picture! Come early to-morrow. "

Hal's last impression of the ballroom, as he turned away, was summed upin one glance from Esmé Elliot's lustrous eyes, as they met his acrossher partner's shoulder, smiling him a farewell and a remembrance oftheir friendly pact. 

"Honey-Jinny, " said Mrs. Willard's husband, after the last guest hadgone; "I don't understand about young Surtaine. Where did he get it?"

"Get what, dear? One might suppose he was a corrupt politician. "

"One might suppose he might be anything crooked or wrong, knowing hisold, black quack of a father. But he seems to be clean stuff allthrough. He looks it. He acts it. He carries himself like it. And hetalks it. I had a little confab with him out in the smoking-room, and Itell you, Jinny-wife, I believe he's a real youngster. "

"Well, he had a mother, you know. "

"Did he? What about her?"

"She was an old friend of my mother's. Dr. Surtaine eloped with her outof her father's country place in Midvale. He was an itinerant peddler ofsome cure-all then. She was a gently born and bred girl, but a merechild, unworldly and very romantic, and she was carried away by theman's personal beauty and magnetism. "

"I can't imagine it in a girl of any sort of family. "

"Mother has told me that he had a personal force that was almosthypnotic. There must have been something else to him, too, for they saythat Hal's mother died, as desperately in love as she had been when sheran away with him, and that he was almost crushed by her loss and neverwholly got over it. He transferred his devotion to the child, who wasonly three years old when the mother died. When Hal was a mere child mymother saw him once taking in dollars at a country fair booth, --justthink of it, dearest, --and she said he was the picture of hisgirl-mother then. Later, when Professor Certain, as he called himselfthen, got rich, he gave Hal the best of education. But he never let himhave anything to do with the Ellersleys--that was Mrs. Surtaine's name. All the family are dead now. "

"Well, there must be some good in the old boy, " admitted Willard. "But Idon't happen to like him. I do like the boy. Blood does tell, Jinny. Butif he's really as much of an Ellersley as he looks, there's a bitterenlightenment before him when he comes to see Dr. Surtaine as he reallyis. "

Meantime Hal, home at a reasonable hour, in the interest of his newprofession, had taken with him the pleasantest impressions of theWillards' hospitality. He slept soundly and awoke in buoyant spirits forthe dawning enterprise. On the breakfast table he found, in front of hisplate, a bunchy envelope addressed in a small, strong, unfamiliar hand. Within was no written word; only a spray of the trailing arbutus, stillunwithered of its fairy-pink, still eloquent, in its wayward, woodlandfragrance, of her who had worn it the night before. 

CHAPTER IX

GLIMMERINGS

Ignorance within one's self is a mist which, upon closer approach, proves a mountain. To the new editor of the "Clarion" the things he didnot know about this enterprise of which he had suddenly become themaster loomed to the skies. Together with the rest of the outer world, he had comfortably and vaguely regarded a newspaper as a sort ofautomatic mill which, by virtue of having a certain amount of grain inthe shape of information dumped into it, worked upon this with anesoteric type-mechanism, and, in due and exact time, delivered adefinite grist of news. Of the refined and articulated processes ofacquisition, selection, and elimination which went to the turning-out ofthe final product, he was wholly unwitting. He could as well havemanipulated a linotype machine as have given out a quiet Sunday'sassignment list: as readily have built a multiple press as made up anedition. 

So much he admitted to McGuire Ellis late in the afternoon of the dayafter the Willard party. Fascinated, he had watched that expertjournalist go through page after page of copy, with what seemedsuperhuman rapidity and address, distribute the finished productvariously upon hooks, boxes, and copy-boys, and, the immediate taskbeing finished, lapse upon his desk and fall asleep. Meantime, the ownerhimself faced the unpleasant prospect of being smothered under thedownfall of proofs, queries, and scribbled sheets which descended uponhis desk from all sides. For a time he struggled manfully: for a timethereafter he wallowed desperately. Then he sent out a far cry for help. The cry smote upon the ear of McGuire Ellis, "Hoong!" ejaculated thatsomnolent toiler, coming up out of deep waters. "Did you speak?"

"I want to know what I'm to do with all of these things, " replied hisboss, indicating the augmenting drifts. 

"Throw 'em on the floor, is _my_ advice, " said the employee drowsily. "The more stuff you throw away, the better paper you get out. That's aproverb of the business. "

"In other words, you think the paper would get along better without methan with me?"

"But you're enjoying yourself, aren't you?" queried his employee. Heaving himself out of his chair, he ambled over to Hal's desk andevolved out of the chaos some semblance of order. "Don't find it as easyas your enthusiasm painted it, " he suggested. 

"Oh, I've still got the enthusiasm. If only I knew where to begin. "

Ellis rubbed his ear thoughtfully and remarked: "Once I knew a man fromPhoenix, Arizona, who was so excited the first time he saw the oceanthat he borrowed a uniform from an absent friend, shinned aboard afive-thousand-ton brigantine, and ordered all hands to put out to seaimmediately in the teeth of a whooping gale. But he, " added the narratorin the judicial tone of one who cites mitigating circumstances, "wasdrunk at the time. "

"Thanks for the parallel. I don't like it. But never mind that. Thequestion is, What am I going to do?"

"That's the question all right. Are you putting it to me?"

"I am. "

"Well, I was just going to put it to you. "

"No use. I don't know. "

The two men looked each other in the eye, long and steadily. Ellis'sharsh face relaxed to a sort of grin. 

"You want me to tell you?"

"Yes. "

"What do you think you're hiring, a Professor of Journalism in theinfant class?" The tone of the question offset any apparent ill-naturein the wording. 

"It might be made worth your while. "

"All right; I'm hired. "

"That's good, " said Hal heartily. "I think you'll find I'm not hard toget along with. "

"I think _you'll_ find _I_ am, " replied the other with some grimness. "But I know the game. Well, let's get down to cases. What do you want todo with the 'Clarion'?"

"Make it the cleanest, decentest newspaper in the city. "

"Then you don't think it's that, now. "

"No. I know it isn't. "

"Did you get that from Dr. Surtaine?"

"Partly. "

"What's the other part?"

"First-hand impressions. I've been going through the files. "

"When?"

"Since nine o'clock this morning. "

"With what idea?"

"Why, having bought a piece of property, I naturally want to know aboutit. "

"Been through the plant yet? That's your property, too. "

"No. I thought I'd find out more from the files. I've bought anewspaper, not a building. "

The characteristic grunt with which Ellis favored his employer in replyto this seemed to have a note of approval in it. 

"Well; now that you own the 'Clarion, '" he said after a pause, "what doyou think of it?"

"It's yellow, and it's sensational, and--it's vulgar. "

There was nothing complimentary in the other's snort this time. 

"Of course it's vulgar. You can't sell a sweet-scented, prim old-maidynewspaper to enough people to pay for the z's in one font of type. People are vulgar. Don't forget that. And you've got to make anewspaper to suit them. Lesson Number One. "

"It needn't be a muckraking paper, need it, forever smelling outsomething rotten, and exploiting it in big headlines?"

"Oh, that's all bluff, " replied the journalist easily. "We never turnloose on anything but the surface of things. Why, if any one started inreally to muckrake this old respectable burg, the smell would drive mostof our best citizens to the woods. "

"Frankly, Mr. Ellis, I don't like cheap cynicism. "

"Prefer to be fed up on pleasant lies?" queried his employee, unmoved. 

"Not that either. I can take an unpleasant truth as well as the nextman. But it's got to be the truth. "

"Do you know the nickname of this paper?"

"Yes. My father told me of it. "

"It was his set that pinned it on us. 'The Daily Carrion, ' they call us, and they said that our triumphal roosters ought to be vultures. Do youknow why?"

"In plain English because of the paper's lies and blackguardism. "

"In plainer English, because of its truth. Wait a minute, now. I'm notsaying that the 'Clarion' doesn't lie. All papers do, I guess. They haveto. But it's when we've cut loose on straight facts that we've got inwrong. "

"Give me an instance. "

"Well, the sewing-girls' strike. "

"Engineered by a crooked labor leader and a notoriety-seeking woman. "

"I see the bunch have got to you already, and have filled you up withtheir dope. Never mind that, now. We're supposed to be a sort of tribuneof the common people. Rights of the ordinary citizen, and that sort ofthing. So we took up the strike and printed the news pretty straight. Noother paper touched it. "

"Why not?"

"Didn't dare. We had to drop it, ourselves. Not until we'd lost tenthousand dollars in advertising, though, and gained an extra blot on ourreputation as being socialistic and an enemy to capital and all thatkind of rot. "

"Wasn't it simply a case of currying favor with the working-classes?"

"According as you look at it. " Apparently weary of looking at it at all, McGuire Ellis tipped back in his chair and contemplated the ceiling. When he spoke his voice floated up as softly as a ring of smoke. "Howhonest are you going to be, Mr. Surtaine?"

"What!"

"I asked you how honest you are going to be. "

"It's a question I don't think you need to ask me. "

"I do. How else will I find out?"

"I intend the 'Clarion' to be strictly and absolutely honest. That's allthere is to that. "

"Don't be so young, " said McGuire Ellis wearily. "'Strictly andabsol'--see here, did you ever read 'The Wrecker'?"

"More than once. "

"Remember the chap who says, 'You seem to think honesty as simple asblindman's-buff. I don't. It's some difference of definition, Isuppose'? Now, there's meat in that. "

"Difference of definition be hanged. Honesty is honesty. "

"And policy is policy. And bankruptcy is bankruptcy. "

"I don't see the connection. "

"It's there. Honesty for a newspaper isn't just a matter of goodintentions. It's a matter of eternal watchfulness and care and expertfiguring-out of things. "

"You mean that we're likely to make mistakes about facts--"

"We're certain to. But that isn't what I mean at all. I mean that it'sharder for a newspaper to be honest than it is for the pastor of a richchurch. "

"You can't make me believe that. "

"Facts can. But I'm not doing my job. You want to learn the details ofthe business, and I'm wasting time trying to throw light into the deepplaces where it keeps what it has of conscience. That'll come later. Nowwhere shall I begin?"

"With the structure of the business. "

"All right. A newspaper is divided into three parts. News is themerchandise which it has to sell. Advertising is the by-product thatpays the bills. The editorial page is a survival. At its best itanalyzes and points out the significance of important news. At itsworst, it is a mouthpiece for the prejudices or the projects of whoeverruns it. Few people are influenced by it. Many are amused by it. Itisn't very important nowadays. "

"I intend to make it so on the 'Clarion. '"

Ellis turned upon him a regard which carried with it a verdict of themost abandoned juvenility, but made no comment. "News sways people morethan editorials, " he continued. "That's why there's so much tinkeringwith it. I'd like to give you a definition of news, but there isn't any. News is conventional. It's anything that interests the community. Itisn't the same in any two places. In Arizona a shower is news. In NewOrleans the boll-weevil is news. In Worthington anything about yourfather is news: in Denver they don't care a hoot about your father; so, unless he elopes or dies, or buys a fake Titian, or breaks theflying-machine record, or lectures on medical quackery, he isn't newsaway from home. If Mrs. Festus Willard is bitten by a mad dog, everydog-chase for the week following is news. When a martyred suffragettechews a chunk out of the King of England, the local meetings of theVotes-for-Women Sorority become a live topic. If ever you get to thepoint where you can say with certainty, 'This is news; that isn't, 'you'll have no further need for me. You'll be graduated. "

"Where does a paper get its news?"

"Through mechanical channels, mostly. If you read all the papers intown, --and you'll have to do it, --you'll see that they've got just aboutthe same stuff. Why shouldn't they have? The big, clumsy news-millgrinds pretty impartially for all of them. There's one news source atPolice Headquarters, another at the City Hall, another in the financialdepartment, another at the political headquarters, another in therailroad offices, another at the theaters, another in society, and soon. At each of these a reporter is stationed. He knows his own kind ofnews as it comes to him, ready-made, and, usually, not much else. Thenthere's the general, unclassified news of the city that drifts in partlyby luck, partly by favor, partly through the personal connections of thestaff. One paper is differentiated from another principally by gettingor missing this sort of stuff. For instance, the 'Banner' yesterday hada 'beat' about you. It said that you had come back and were going tosettle down and go into your father's business. "

"That's not true. "

"Glad to hear it. Your hands will be full with this job. But it wasnews. Everybody is interested in the son of our leading citizen. The'Banner' is strong on that sort of local stuff. I think I'll jack up ourboys in the city room by hinting that there may be a shake-up comingunder the new owner. Knowing they're on probation will make 'emambitious. "

"And the news of the outside world?"

"Much the same principle as the local matter and just as machine-like. The 'Clarion' is a unit in a big system, the National News ExchangeBureau. Not only has the bureau its correspondents in every city andtown of any size, but it covers the national sources of news withspecial reporters. Also the international. Theoretically it gives onlythe plainest facts, uncolored by any bias. As a matter of fact, it'spretty crooked. It suppresses news, and even distorts it. It's got asecret financial propaganda dictated by Wall Street, and its policiesare always open to suspicion. "

"Why doesn't it get honest reporters?"

"Oh, its reporters are honest enough. The funny business is done higherup, in the executive offices. "

"Isn't there some other association we can get into?"

"Not very well, just now. The Exchange franchise is worth a lot ofmoney. Besides, " he concluded, yawning, "I don't know that they're anyworse than we are. "

Hal got to his feet and walked the length of the office and back, fivetimes. At the end of this exercise he stood, looking down at hisassistant. 

"Ellis, are you trying to plant an impression in my mind?"

"No. "

"You're doing it. "

"Of what sort?"

"I hardly know. Something subtle, and lurking and underhanded in thebusiness. I feel as if you had your hands on a curtain that you mightpull aside if you would, but that you don't want to shock my--myyouthfulness. "

"Plain facts are what you want, aren't they?"

"Exactly. "

"Well, I'm giving them to you as plain as you can understand them. Idon't want to tell you more than you're ready to believe. "

"Try it, as an experiment. "

"Who do you suppose runs the newspapers of this town?"

"Why, Mr. Vane runs the 'Banner. ' Mr. Ford owns the 'Press. ' The'Telegram'--let me see--"

"No; no; no, " cried Ellis, waving his hands in front of his face. "Idon't mean the different papers. I mean all of 'em. The 'Clarion, ' withthe others. "

"Nobody runs them all, surely. "

"Three men run them all; Pierce, Gibbs, and Hollenbeck. "

"E. M. Pierce?"

"Elias Middleton Pierce. "

"I had luncheon with him yesterday, and with Mr. Gibbs--"

"Ah! That's where you got your notions about the strike. "

"--and neither of them spoke of any newspaper interests. "

"Catch them at it! They're the Publication Committee of the Retail DryGoods Union. "

"What is that?"

"The combination of local department stores. And, as such, they candictate to every Worthington newspaper what it shall or shall notprint. "

"Nonsense!"

"Including the 'Clarion. '"

"There you're wrong, anyway. "

"The department stores are the biggest users of advertising space in thecity. No paper in town could get along without them. If they want apiece of news kept out of print, they tell the editor so, and you betit's kept out. Otherwise that paper loses the advertising. "

"Has it ever been done here?"

"Has it? Get Veltman down to tell you about the Store Employees'Federation. "

"Veltman? What does he know of it? He's in the printing-department, isn't he?"

"Composing-room; yes. Outside he's a labor agitator and organizer. A bitof a fanatic, too. But an A1 man all right. Get the composing-room, " hedirected through the telephone, "and ask Mr. Veltman to come to Mr. Surtaine's office. "

As the printer entered, Hal was struck again with his physical beauty. 

"Did you want to see me?" he asked, looking at the "new boss" withsomber eyes. 

"Tell Mr. Surtaine about the newspapers and the Store Federation, Max, "said Ellis. 

The German shook his head. "Nothing new in that, " he said, with the veryslightest of accents. "We can't organize them unless the newspapers giveus a little publicity. "

"Explain it to me, please. I know nothing about it, " said Hal. 

"For years we've been trying to organize a union of department storeemployees. "

"Aren't they well treated?"

"Not quite as well as hogs, " returned the other in an impassive voice. "The girls wanted shorter hours and extra pay for overtime at holidaytime and Old Home Week. Every time we've tried it the stores fire theorganizers among their employees. "

"Hardly fair, that. "

"This year we tried to get up a public meeting. Reverend Norman Halehelped us, and Dr. Merritt, the health officer, and a number of women. It was a good news feature, and that was what we wanted, to get themovement started. But do you think any paper in town touched it? Notone. "

"But why?"

"E. M. Pierce's orders. He and his crowd. "

"Even the 'Clarion, ' which is supposed to have labor sympathies?"

"The 'Clarion'!" There was a profundity of contempt in Veltman's voice;and a deeper bitterness when he snapped his teeth upon a word whichsounded to Hal suspiciously like the Biblical characterization of anundesirable citizeness of Babylon. 

"In any case, they won't give the 'Clarion' any more orders. "

"Oh, yes, they will, " said Veltman stolidly. 

"Then they'll learn something distinctly to their disadvantage. "

The splendid, animal-like eyes of the compositor gleamed suddenly. "Doyou mean you're going to run the paper honestly?"

Hal almost recoiled before the impassioned and incredulous surprise inthe question. 

"What is 'honestly'?"

"Give the people who buy your paper the straight news they pay for?"

"Certainly, the paper will be run that way. "

"As easy as rolling off a log, " put in McGuire Ellis, with suspicioussmoothness. 

Veltman looked from one to the other. "Yes, " he said: and again"Yes-s-s. " But the life had gone from his voice. "Anything more?"

"Nothing, thank you, " answered Hal. 

"Brains, fire, ambition, energy, skill, everything but balance, " saidEllis, as the door closed. "He's the stuff that martyrs are made of--orlunatics. Same thing, I guess. "

"Isn't he a trouble-maker among the men?"

"No. He's a good workman. Something more, too. Sometimes he writesparagraphs for the editorial page; and when they're not too radical, Iuse 'em. He's brought us in one good feature, that 'Kitty the Cutie'stuff. "

"I'd thought of dropping that. It's so cheap and chewing-gummy. "

"Catches on, though. We really ought to run it every day. But the girlhasn't got time to do it. "

"Who is she?"

"Some kid in your father's factory, I understand. Protégée of Veltman's, He brought her stuff in and we took it right off the bat. "

"Well, I'll tell you one thing that is going. "

"What?"

"The 'Clarion's' motto. 'We Lead: Let Those Who Can Follow. '" Halpointed to the "black-face" legend at the top of the first editorialcolumn. 

"Got anything in its place?"

"I thought of 'With Malice Toward None: With Charity for All. '"

"Worked to death. But I've never seen it on a newspaper. Shall I tellVeltman to set it up in several styles so you may take your pick?"

"Yes. Let's start it in to-morrow. "

That night Harrington Surtaine went to bed pondering on the strangeattitude of the newspaper mind toward so matter-of-fact a quality ashonesty; and he dreamed of a roomful of advertisers listening in soddensilence to his own grandiloquent announcement, "Gentlemen: honesty isthe best policy, " while, in a corner, McGuire Ellis and Max Veltmanclasped each other in an apoplectic agony of laughter. 

On the following day the blatant cocks of the shrill "Clarion" stoodguard at either end of the paper's new golden text. 

CHAPTER X

IN THE WAY OF TRADE

Dr. Surtaine sat in Little George's best chair, beaming upon the world. By habit, the big man was out of his seat with his dime and nickel inthe bootblack's ready hand, almost coincidently with the final clip-clapof the rhythmic process. But this morning he lingered, contemplatingwith an unobtrusive scrutiny the occupant of the adjoining chair, asmall, angular, hard man, whose brick-red face was cut off in thesegment of an abrupt circle, formed by a low-jammed green hat. Thisindividual had just briskly bidden his bootblack "hurry it up" in a tonewhich meant precisely what it said. The youth was doing so. 

"George, " said Dr. Surtaine, to the proprietor of the stand. 

"Yas, suh. "

"Were you ever in St. Jo, Missouri?"

"Yas, suh, Doctah Suhtaine; oncet. "

"For long?"

"No, suh. "

"Didn't live there, did you?"

"No, suh. "

"George, " said his interlocutor impressively, "you're lucky. "

"Yas, suh, " agreed the negro with a noncommittal grin. 

"While you can buy accommodations in a graveyard or break into apenitentiary, don't you ever live in St. Jo Missouri, George. "

The man in the adjacent seat half turned toward Dr. Surtaine and lookedhim up and down, with a freezing regard. 

"It's the sink-hole and sewer-pipe of creation, George. They onceelected a chicken-thief mayor, and he resigned because the town was toomean to live in. Ever know any folks there, George?"

"Don't have no mem'ry for 'em, Doctah. "

"You're lucky again. They're the orneriest, lowest-down, minchin', pinchin', pizen trash that ever tainted the sweet air of Heaven bybreathing it, George. "

"You don' sesso, Doctah Suhtaine, suh. "

"I do sess precisely so, George. Does the name McQuiggan mean anythingto you?"

"Don' mean nothin' at-tall to me, Doctah. "

"You got away from St. Jo in time, then. Otherwise you might have metthe McQuiggan family, and never been the same afterward. "

"Ef you don' stop youah feet a-fidgittin', Boss, " interpolated theneighboring bootblack, addressing the green-hatted man in aggrievedtones, "I cain't do no good wif this job. "

"McQuiggan was the name, " continued the volunteer biographer. "The bestyou could say of the McQuiggans, George, was that one wasn't muchcusseder than the others, because he couldn't be. Human nature has itslimitations, George. "

"It suttinly have, suh. "

"But if you had to allow a shade to any of 'em, it would probably havegone to the oldest brother, L. P. McQuiggan. Barring a scorpion I oncesat down on while in swimming, he was the worst outrage upon the schemeof creation ever perpetrated by a short-sighted Providence. "

"Get out of that chair!"

The little man had shot from his own and was dancing upon the pavement. 

"What for?" Dr. Surtaine's tone was that of inquiring innocence. 

"To have your fat head knocked off. "

With impressive agility for one of his size and years, the challengedone descended. He advanced, "squared, " and suddenly held out a muscularand plump hand. 

"Hullo, Elpy. "

"Huh?"

The other glared at him, baleful and baffled. 

"Hullo, I said. Don't you know me?"

"No, I don't. Neither will your own family after I get through withyou. "

"Come off, Elpy; come off. I licked you once in the old days, and Iguess I could do it now, but I don't want to. Come and have a drink withold Andy. "

"Andy? Andy the Spieler? Andy Certain?"

"Dr. L. André Surtaine, at your service. _Now_, will you shake?"

Still surly, Mr. McQuiggan hung back. "What about that roast?" hedemanded. 

"Wasn't sure of you. Twenty years is a long time. But I knew if it wasyou you'd want to fight, and I knew if you didn't want to fight itwasn't you. I'll buy you one in honor of the best little city west ofthe Mississip, and the best bunch of sports that ever came out of it, the McQuiggans of St. Jo, Missouri. Does that go?"

"It goes, " replied the representative of the family concisely. 

Across the café table Dr. Surtaine contemplated his old acquaintancewith friendly interest. 

"The same old scrappy Elpy, " he observed. "What's happened to you, sinceyou used to itinerate with the Iroquois Extract of Life?"

"Plenty. "

"You're looking pretty prosperous. "

"Have to, in my line. "

"What is it?"

Mr. McQuiggan produced a card, with the legend:--

 +-----------------------------------------+ | | | McQuiggan & Straight | | STREAKY MOUNTAIN COPPER COMPANY | | Orsten, Palas County, Nev. | | | | | | L. P. MCQUIGGAN ARTHUR STRAIGHT | | _President_ _Vice-Pres. & Treas. _ | | | +-----------------------------------------+

"Any good?" queried the Doctor. 

"Best undeveloped property in the State. "

"Why don't you develop it?"

"Capital. "

"Get the capital. "

"Will you help me?"

"Sure. "

"How?"

"Advertise. "

"Advertising costs money. "

"And brings two dollars for every one you spend. "

"Maybe, " retorted the other, with a skeptical air. "But my game is stilltalk. "

"Talk gets dimes; print gets dollars, " said his friend sententiously. 

"You have to show me. "

"Show you!" cried the Doctor. "I'll write your copy myself. "

"_You_ will? What do you know about mining?"

"Not a thing. But there isn't much I don't know about advertising. I'vebuilt up a little twelve millions, plus, on it. And I can sell yourstock like hot cakes through the 'Clarion. '"

"What's the 'Clarion'?"

"My son's newspaper. "

"Thereby keeping the graft in the family, eh?"

"Don't be a fool, Elpy. I'm showing you profits. Besides doing you agood turn, I'd like to bring in some new business to the boy. Now youtake half-pages every other day for a week and a full page Sunday--"

"Pages!" almost squalled the little man. "D'you think I'm made ofmoney?"

"Elpy, " said Dr. Surtaine, abruptly, "do you remember my platformpatter?"

"Like the multiplication table. "

"Was it good?"

"Best ever!"

"Well, I'm a slicker proposition with a pen than I ever was with aspiel. And you're securing my services for nothing. Come around to theoffice, man, and let me show you. "

Still suspicious, Mr. McQuiggan permitted himself to be led away, expatiating as he went, upon the unrivaled location and glorious futureof his mining property. From time to time, Dr. Surtaine jotted down anunostentatious note. 

The first view of the Certina building dashed Mr. McQuiggan'ssuspicions; his inspection of his old friend's superb office slew thempainlessly. 

"Is this all yours, Andy? On the level? Did you do it all on your own?"

"Every bit of it! With my little pen-and-ink. Take a look around thewalls and you'll see how. "

He seated himself at his desk and proceeded to jot down, with apparentcarelessness, but in broad, sweeping lines, a type lay-out, while hisguest passed from advertisement to advertisement, in increasingadmiration. Before Old Lame-Boy he paused, absolutely fascinated. 

"I thought that'd get you, " exulted the host, who, between strokes ofthe creative pen had been watching him. 

"I've seen it in the newspaper, but never connected it with you. Beingout of the medical line I lost interest. Say, it's a wonder! Did itfetch 'em?"

"Fetch 'em? It knocked 'em flat. That picture's the foundation of thisbusiness. Talk about suggestion in advertising! He's a regularhypnotist, Old Lame-Boy is. Plants the suggestion right in the small ofyour back, where we want it. Why, Elpy, I've seen a man walk up to thatpicture on a bill-board as straight as you or me, take one good, longlook, and go away hanging onto his kidneys, and squirming like a lizard. Fact! What do you think of that? Genius, I call it: just flat genius, toproduce an effect like that with a few lines and a daub or two ofcolor. "

"Some pull!" agreed Mr. McQuiggan, with professional approval. "Andthen--'Try Certina, ' eh?"

"For a starter and, for a finisher 'Certina _Cures_. ' Shoves the bottleright into their hands. The first bottle braces 'em. They take another. By the time they've had half a dozen, they love it. "

"Booze?"

"Sure! Flavored and spiced up, nice and tasty. Great for the temperancetrade. _And_ the best little repeater on the market. Now take a look, Elpy. "

He tapped the end of his pen upon the rough sketch of the miningadvertisement, which he had drafted. Mr. McQuiggan bent over it instudy, and fell a swift victim to the magic of the art. 

"Why, that would make a wad of bills squirm out of the toe of astockin'! It's new game to me. I've always worked the personal touch. But I'll sure give it a try-out, Andy. "

"I guess it's bad!" exulted the other. "I guess I've lost the trick oftolling the good old dollars in! Take this home and try it on your cashregister! Now, come around and meet the boy. "

Thus it was that Editor-in-Chief Harrington Surtaine, in the third weekof his incumbency received a professional call from his father, and acompanion from whose pockets bulged several sheets of paper. 

"Shake hands with Mr. McQuiggan, Hal, " said the Doctor. "Make a bow whenyou meet him, too. He's your first new business for the reformed'Clarion. '"

"In what way?" asked Hal, meeting a grip like iron from the stranger. "News?"

"News! I guess not. Business, I said. Real money. Advertising. "

"It's like this, Mr. Surtaine, " said L. P. McQuiggan, turning his spare, hard visage toward Hal. "I've got some copper stock to sell--an A1under-developed proposition; and your father, who's an old pal, tells methe 'Clarion' can do the business for me. Now, if I can get a good ratefrom you, it's a go. "

"Mr. Shearson, the advertising manager, is your man. I don't knowanything about advertising rates. "

"Then you'd best get busy and learn, " cried Dr. Surtaine. 

"I'm learning other things. "

"For instance?"

"What news is and isn't. "

"Look here, Boyee. " Dr. Surtaine's voice was surcharged with adisappointed earnestness. "Put yourself right on this. News is news; anypaper can get it. But advertising is _Money_. Let your editors run thenews part, till you can work into it. _You get next to the door wherethe cash comes in. _"

In the fervor of his advice he thumped Hal's desk. The thump wokeMcGuire Ellis, who had been devoting a spare five minutes to hisfavorite pastime. For his behoof, the exponent of policy repeated hisperoration. "Isn't that right, Ellis?" he cried. "You're a practicalnewspaper man. "

"It's true to type, anyway, " grunted Ellis. 

"Sure it is!" cried the other, too bent on his own notions to interpretthis comment correctly. "And now, what about a little reading notice forMcQuiggan's proposition?"

"Yes: an interview with me on the copper situation and prospects mighthelp, " put in McQuiggan. 

Hal hesitated, looking to Ellis for counsel. 

"You've got to do something for an advertiser on a big order like this, Boyee, " urged his father. 

"Let's see the copy, " put in Ellis. The trained journalistic eye ranover the sheets. "Lot of gaudy slush about copper mines in general, " heobserved, "and not much information on Streaky Mountain. "

"It's an undeveloped property, " said McQuiggan. 

"Strong on geography, " continued Ellis. "'In the immediate vicinity, '"he read from one sheet, "'lie the Copper Monarch Mine paying 40 per centdividends, the Deep Gulch Mine, paying 35 per cent, the Three Sisters, Last Chance, Alkali Spring Mines, all returning upwards of 25 per centper annum: and immediately adjacent is the famous Strike-for-the-Westproperty which enriches its fortunate stockholders to the tune of 75 percent a year!' Are you on the same range as the Strike-for-the-West, Mr. McQuiggan?"

"It's an adjacent property, " growled the mining man. "What d'you knowabout copper?"

"Oh, I've seen a little mining, myself. And a bit of mining advertising. That's quite an ad. Of yours, McQuiggan. "

"I wrote that ad. , " said Dr. Surtaine blandly: "and I challenge anybodyto find a single misstatement in it. "

"You're safe. There isn't any. And scarcely a single statement. But ifyou wrote it, I suppose it goes. "

"And the interview, too, " rasped McQuiggan. 

"It's usual, " said Ellis to Hal. "The tail with the hide: the soul withthe body, when you're selling. "

"But we're not selling interviews, " said Hal uneasily. 

"You're getting nearly a thousand dollars' worth of copy, and giving abonus that don't cost you anything, " said his father. "The papers havedone it for me ever since I've been in business. "

"I guess that's right, too, " agreed Ellis. 

"Why don't you take McQuiggan down to meet your Mr. Shearson, Hal?"suggested the Doctor. "I'll stay here and round out a couple of otherideas for his campaign. "

Hal had risen from his desk when there was a light knock at the door andMilly Neal's bright head appeared. 

"Hullo!" said Dr. Surtaine. "What's up? Anything wrong at the shop, Milly?"

The girl walked into the room and stood trimly at ease before the fourmen. 

"No, Chief, " said she. "I understood Mr. Surtaine wanted to see me. "

"I?" said Hal blankly, pushing a chair toward her. 

"Yes. Didn't you? They told me you left word for me in the city room, tosee you when I came in again. Sometimes I send my copy, so I only justgot the message. "

"Miss Neal is 'Kitty the Cutie, '" explained McGuire Ellis. 

"Looks it, too, " observed L. P. McQuiggan jauntily, addressing the upperfar corner of the room. 

Miss Neal looked at him, met a knowing and conscious smile, looked rightthrough the smile, and looked away again, all with the air of one whogazes out into nothingness. 

"Guess I'll go look up this Shearson person, " said Mr. McQuiggan, atrifle less jauntily. "See you all later. "

"I'd no notion you were the writer of the Cutie paragraphs, Milly, " saidDr. Surtaine. "They're lively stuff. "

"Nobody has. I'm keeping it dark. It's only a try-out. You _did_ sendfor me, didn't you?" she added, turning to Hal. 

"Yes. What I had in mind to say to you--that is, to the author--thewriter of the paragraphs, " stumbled Hal, "is that they're a littletoo--too--"

"Too flip?" queried his father. "That's what makes 'em go. "

"If they could be done in a manner not quite so undignified, " suggestedthe editor-in-chief. 

Color rose in the girl's smooth cheek. "You think they're vulgar, " shecharged. 

"That's rather too harsh a word, " he protested. 

"You do! I can see it. " She flushed an angry red. "I'd rather stopaltogether than have you think that. "

"Don't be young, " put in McGuire Ellis, with vigor. "Kitty has caughton. It's a good feature. The paper can't afford to drop it. "

"That's right, " supplemented Dr. Surtaine. "People are beginning to talkabout those items. They read 'em. I read 'em myself. They've got the go, the pep. They're different. But, Milly, I didn't even know you couldwrite. "

"Neither did I, " said the girl staidly, "till I got to putting down someof the things I heard the girls say, and stringing them together withnonsense of my own. One evening I showed some of it to Mr. Veltman, andhe took it here and had it printed. "

"I was going to suggest, Mr. Surtaine, " said McGuire Ellis formally, "that we put Miss Kitty on the five-dollar-a-column basis and make heran every-other-day editorial page feature. I think the stuff's worthit. "

"We can give it a trial, " said his principal, a little dubiously, "sinceyou think so well of it. "

"Then, Milly, I suppose you'll be quitting the shop to become afull-fledged writer, " remarked Dr. Surtaine. 

"No, indeed, Chief. " The girl smiled at him with that frankfriendliness which Hal had noted as informing every relationship betweenDr. Surtaine and the employees of the Certina plant. "I'll stick. Theregular pay envelope looks good to me. And I can do this work afterhours. "

"How would it be if I was to put you on half-time, Milly?" suggested heremployer. "You can keep your department going by being there in themornings and have your afternoons for the writing. "

The girl thanked him demurely but with genuine gratitude. 

"Then we'll look for your copy here on alternate days, " said Hal. "And Ithink I'll give you a desk. As this develops into an editorial feature Ishall want to keep an eye on it and to be in touch with you. Perhaps Icould make suggestions sometimes. "

She rose, thanking him, and Hal held open the door for her. Once againhe felt, with a strange sensation, her eyes take hold on his as shepassed him. 

"Pretty kid, " observed Ellis. "Veltman is crazy about her, they say. "

"_Good_ kid, too, " added Dr. Surtaine, emphasizing the adjective. "Youmight tell Veltman that, whoever he is. "

"Tell him, yourself, " retorted Ellis with entire good nature. "He isn'tthe sort to offer gratuitous information to. "

Upon this advice, L. P. McQuiggan reëntered. "All fixed, " said he, withevident satisfaction. "We went to the mat on rates, but Shearson agreedto give me some good reading notices. Now, I'll beat it. See youto-night, Andy?"

Dr. Surtaine nodded. "You owe me a commission, Boyee, " said he, smilingat Hal as McQuiggan made his exit. "But I'll let you off this time. Iguess it won't be the last business I bring in to you. Only, don't youand Ellis go looking every gift horse too hard in the teeth. You mightget bit. "

"Shut your eyes and swallow it and ask no questions, if it's good, eh, Doctor?" said McGuire Ellis. "That's the motto for your practice. "

"Right you are, my boy. And it's the motto of sound business. What isbusiness?" he continued, soaring aloft upon the wings of a Pæan ofPolicy. "Why, business is a deal between you and me in which I give youmy goods and a pleasant word, and you give me your dollar and a politereply. Some folks always want to know where the dollar came from. Notme! I'm satisfied to know that its coming to me. Money has wings, and ifyou throw stones at it, it'll fly away fast. And you want to remember, "he concluded with the fervor of honest conviction, "that a newspapercan't be quite right, any more than a man can, unless it makes its ownliving. Well. I'm not going to preach any more. So long, boys. "

"What do you think of it, Mr. Surtaine?" inquired McGuire Ellis, afterthe lecturer had gone his way. "Pretty sound sense, eh?"

"I wonder just what you mean by that, Ellis. Not what you say, certainly. "

But Ellis only laughed and turned to his "flimsy. "

Meantime the editor of the "Clarion" was being quietly but persistentlybeset by another sermonizer, less cocksure of text than the Sweet Singerof Policy, but more subtle in influence. This was Miss Esmé Elliot. Already, the half-jocular partnership undertaken at the outset of theiracquaintance had developed into a real, if somewhat indeterminateconnection. Esmé found her new acquaintance interesting both for himselfand for his career. Her set in general considered the ripeningfriendship merely "another of Esmé's flirtations, " and variouslyprophesied the dénouement. To the girl's own mind it was not aflirtation at all. She was (she assured herself) genuinely absorbed inthe development of a new mission in which she aspired to be influential. That she already exercised a strong sway of personality over HalSurtaine, she realized. Indeed, in the superb confidence of her charm, she would have been astonished had it been otherwise. Just where herinterest in the newly adventured professional field ended, and inHarrington Surtaine, the man, began, she would have been puzzled to say. Kathleen Pierce had bluntly questioned her on the subject. 

"Yes, of course I like him, " said Esmé frankly. "He's interesting andhe's a gentleman, and he has a certain force about him, and he's"--shepaused, groping for a characterization--"he's unexpected. "

"What gets me, " said Kathleen, in her easy slang, "is that he neverpulls any knighthood-in-flower stuff, yet you somehow feel it's there. Know what I mean? There's a scrapper behind that nice-boy smile. "

"He hasn't scrapped with me, yet, Kathie, " smiled the beauty. 

"Don't let him, " advised the other. "It mightn't be safe. Still, Isuppose you understand him by now, down to the ground. "

"Indeed I do not. Didn't I tell you he was unexpected? He has anuncomfortable trick, " complained Miss Elliot, "just when everything issmooth and lovely, of suddenly leveling those gray-blue eyes of his atyou, like two pistols. 'Throw up your hands and tell me what you reallymean!' One doesn't always want to tell what one really means. "

"Bet you have to with him, sooner or later, " returned her friend. 

This conversation took place at the Vanes' _al fresco_ tea, to which Halcame for a few minutes, late in the afternoon of his father's visit withMcQuiggan, mainly in the hope of seeing Esmé Elliot. Within five minutesafter his arrival, Worthington society was frowning, or smiling, according as it was masculine or feminine, at their backs, as theystrolled away toward the garden. Miss Esmé was feeling a bit petulant, perhaps because of Kathie Pierce's final taunt. 

"I think you aren't living up to our partnership, " she accused. 

"Is it a partnership, where one party is absolute slave to the other'sslightest wish?" he smiled. 

"There! That is exactly it. You treat me like a child. "

"I don't think of you as a child, I assure you. "

"You listen to all I say with pretended deference, and smile and--and goyour own way with inevitable motion. "

"Wherein have I failed in my allegiance?" asked Hal, courteouslyconcerned. "Haven't we published everything about all the charities thatyou're interested in?"

"Oh, yes. So far as that goes. But the paper itself doesn't seem tochange any. It's got the same tone it always had. "

"What's wrong with its tone?" The eyes were leveled at her now. 

"Speaking frankly, it's tawdry. It's lurid. It's--well, yellow. "

"A matter of method. You're really more interested, then, in the way wepresent news than in the news we present. "

"I don't know anything about news, itself. But I don't see why anewspaper run by a gentleman shouldn't be in good taste. "

"Nor do I. Except that those things take time. I suppose I've got to getin touch with my staff before I can reform their way of writing thepaper. "

"Haven't you done that yet?"

"I simply haven't had time. "

"Then I'll make you a nice present of a very valuable suggestion. Give aluncheon to your employees, and invite all the editors and reporters. Make a little speech to them and tell them what you intend to do, andget them to talk it over and express opinions. That's the way to getthings done. I do it with my mission class. And, by the way, don't makeit a grand banquet at one of the big hotels. Have it in some place wherethe men are used to eating. They'll feel more at home and you'll getmore out of them. "

"Will you come?"

"No. But you shall come up to the house and report fully on it. "

Had Miss Esmé Elliot, experimentalist in human motives, foreseen to whatpurpose her ingenious suggestion was to work out, she might well haveretracted her complaint of lack of real influence; for this casualconversation was the genesis of the Talk-it-Over Breakfast, aninstitution which potently affected the future of the "Clarion" and itsyoung owner. 

CHAPTER XI

THE INITIATE

Within a month after Hal's acquisition of the "Clarion, " Dr. Surtainehad become a daily caller at the office. "Just to talk things over, " washis explanation of these incursions, which Hal always welcomed, nomatter how busy he might be. Advice was generally the form which thevisitor's talk took; sometimes warning; not infrequently suggestions ofgreater or less value. Always his counsel was for peace and policy. 

"Keep in with the business element, Boyee. Remember all the time thatWorthington is a business city, the liveliest little business citybetween New York and Chicago. Business made it. Business runs it. Business is going to keep on running it. Anybody who works on adifferent principle, I don't care whether it's in politics or journalismor the pulpit, is going to get hurt. I don't deny you've braced up the'Clarion. ' People are beginning to talk about it already. But the bestmen, the moneyed men, are holding off. They aren't sure of you yet. Sometimes I'm not sure myself. Every now and then the paper takes astand I don't like. It goes too far. You've put ginger into it. I haveto admit that. And ginger's a good thing, but sugar catches more flies. "

The notion of a breakfast to the staff met with the Doctor's instantapproval. 

"That's the idea!" said he "I'll come to it, myself. Lay down yourgeneral scheme and policy to 'em. Get 'em in sympathy with it. If any of'em aren't in sympathy with it, get rid of those. Kickers never did anybusiness any good. You'll get plenty of kicks from outside. Then, whenthe office gets used to your way of doing things, you can quit wastingso much time on the news and editorial end. "

"But that's what makes the paper, Dad. "

"Get over that idea. You hire men to get out the paper. Let 'em earntheir pay while you watch the door where the dollars come in. Advertising, my son: that's the point to work at. In a way I'm sorry youlet Sterne out. "

The ex-editor had left, a fortnight before, on a basis agreeable tohimself and Hal, and McGuire Ellis had taken over his duties. 

"Certainly you had no reason to like Sterne, Dad. "

"For all that, he knew his job. Everything Sterne did had a dollarsomewhere in the background. Even his blackmailing game. He worked withthe business office, and he took his orders on that basis. Now if youhad some man whom you could turn over this news end to while you'rebuilding up a sound advertising policy--"

"How about McGuire Ellis?"

Dr. Surtaine glanced over to the window corner where the associateeditor was somnambulantly fighting a fly for the privilege of continuinga nap. 

"Too much of a theorist: too much of a knocker. "

"He's taught me what little I know about this business, " said Hal. "Hi!Wake up, Ellis. Do you know you've got to make a speech in an hour? Thisis the day of the Formal Feed. "

"Hoong!" grunted Ellis, arousing himself. "Speech? I can't make aspeech. Make it yourself. "

"I'm going to. "

"What are you going to talk about?"

"Well, I might borrow your text and preach them a sermon on honesty injournalism. Seriously, I think the whole paper has degenerated to lowideals, and if I put it to them straight, that every man of them, reporter, copy-reader, or editor, has got to measure up to an absolutelystraight standard of honesty--"

"They'll throw the tableware at you, " said McGuire Ellis quietly: "atleast they ought to, if they don't. "

The two Surtaines stared at him in surprise. 

"Who are you, " continued the journalist, "to talk standards of honestyin journalism to those boys?"

"He's their boss: that's all he is, " said Dr. Surtaine weightily. 

"Let him set the example, then, jack the paper up where it belongs, andthere'll be no difficulty with the men who write it. "

"But, Mac, you've been hammering at me about the crookedness ofjournalism in Worthington from the first. "

"All right. Crookedness there is. Where does it come from? From the menin control, mostly. Let me tell you something, you two: there's hardly areporter in this city who isn't more honest than the paper he worksfor. "

"Hifalutin nonsense, " said Dr. Surtaine. 

"From your point of view. You're an outsider. It's outsiders that makethe newspaper game as bad as it is. Look at 'em in this town. Who ownsthe 'Banner'? A political boss. Who owns the 'News'? A brewer. The'Star'? A promoter, and a pretty scaly one at that. The 'Observer'belongs body and soul to an advertising agency, and the 'Telegraph' iscontrolled by the banks. And one and all of 'em take their orders fromthe Dry Goods Union, which means Elias M. Pierce, because they live onits advertising. "

"Why not? That's business, " said Dr. Surtaine. 

"Are we talking about business? I thought it was standards. What dothose men know about the ethics of journalism? If you put the thing upto him, like as not E. M. Pierce would tell you that an ethic issomething a doctor gives you to make you sleep. "

"How about the 'Clarion, ' Mac?" said Hal, smiling. "It's run by anoutsider, too, isn't it?"

"That's what I want to know. " There was no answering smile on Ellis'ssomber and earnest face. "I've thought there was hope for you. You'vehad no sound business training, thank God, so your sense of decency maynot have been spoiled. "

"You don't seem to think much of business standards, " said the Doctortolerantly. 

"Not a great deal. I've bumped into 'em too hard. Not so long ago I waspublisher of a paying daily in an Eastern city. The directors were allhigh-class business men, and the chairman of the board was one of thosephilanthropist-charity-donator-pillar-of-the-church chaps with apermanent crease of high respectability down his front. Well, one daythere turned up a double murder in the den of one of these venerealquacks that infest every city. It set me on the trail, and I had my bestreporter get up a series about that gang of vampires. Naturally thatnecessitated throwing out their ads. The advertising manager put up ahowl, and we took the thing to the board of directors. In those days Ihad all my enthusiasm on tap. I had an array of facts, too, and I wentat that board like a revivalist, telling 'em just the kind of devil-workthe 'men's specialists' did. At the finish I sat down feeling prettygood. Nobody said anything for quite a while. Then the chairman droppedthe pencil he'd been puttering with, and said, in a kind of purry voice:'Gentlemen: I thought Mr. Ellis's job on this paper was to make it paydividends, and not to censor the morals of the community. '"

"And, by crikey, he was right!" cried Dr. Surtaine. 

"From the business point of view. "

"Oh, you theorists! You theorists!" Dr. Surtaine threw out his hands ina gesture of pleasant despair. "You want to run the world like aSunday-school class. "

"Instead of like a three-card-monte game. "

"With your lofty notions, Ellis, how did you ever come to work on asheet like the 'Clarion'?"

"A man's got to eat. When I walked out of that directors' meeting Iwalked out of my job and into a saloon; and from that saloon I walkedinto a good many other saloons. Luckily for me, booze knocked me outearly. I broke down, went West, got my health and some sense back again, drifted to this town, found an opening on the 'Clarion, ' and took it, tomake a living. "

"You won't continue to do that, " advised Dr. Surtaine bluntly, "if youkeep on trying to reform your bosses. "

"But what makes me sick, " continued Ellis, disregarding this hint, "isto have people assume that newspaper men are a lot of semi-crooks andshysters. What does the petty grafting that a few reporters do--and, mind you, there's mighty little of it done--amount to, compared with therottenness of a paper run by my church-going reformer with the businessstandards?"

A call from the business office took Hal away. At once Ellis turned tothe older man. 

"Are you going to run the paper, Doc?"

"No: no, my boy. Hal owns it, on his own money. "

"Because if you are, I quit. "

"That's no way to talk, " said the magnate, aggrieved. "There isn't a manin Worthington treats his employees better or gets along with 'emsmoother than me. "

"That's right, too, I guess. Only I don't happen to want to be youremployee. "

"You're frank, at least, Mr. Ellis. "

"Why not? I've laid my cards on the table. You know me for what I am, adisgruntled dreamer. I know you for what you are, a hard-headed businessman. We don't have to quarrel about it. Tell you what I'll do: I'llmatch you, horse-and-horse, for the soul of your boy. "

"You're a queer Dick, Ellis. "

"Don't want to match? Then I suppose I've got to fight you for him, "sighed the editor. 

The big man laughed whole-heartedly. "Not a chance, my friend! Not achance on earth. I don't believe even a woman could come between Haland me, let alone a man. "

"_Or_ a principle?"

"Ah--ah! Dealing in abstractions again. Look out for this fellow, Boyee, " he called jovially as Hal came back to his desk. "He'll makeyour paper the official organ of the Muckrakers' Union. "

"I'll watch him, " promised Hal. "Meantime I'll take your advice about myspeech, Mac, and blue-pencil the how-to-be-good stuff. "

"Now you're talking! I'll tell you, Boss: why not get some of thefellows to speak up. You might learn a few things about your own paperthat would interest you. "

"Good idea! But, Mac, I wish you wouldn't call me 'Boss. ' It makes mefeel absurdly young. "

"All right, Hal, " returned Ellis, with a grin. "But you've still gotsome youngness to overcome, you know. "

An hour later, looking down the long luncheon table, the editor-ownerfelt his own inexperience more poignantly. With a very few exceptions, these men, his employees, were his seniors in years. More than that, hethought to see in the faces an air of capability, of assurance, ofpreparedness, a sort of work-worthiness like the seaworthiness of avessel which has passed the high test of wind and wave. And to him, untried, unformed, ignorant, the light amateur, all this human mechanismmust look for guidance. Humility clouded him at the recollection of thespirit in which he had taken on the responsibility so vividlypersonified before him, a spirit of headlong wrath and revenge, and hecame fervently to a realization and a resolve. He saw himself as part ofa close-knit whole; he visioned, sharply, the Institution, complex, delicate, almost infinitely powerful for good or evil, not alone tothose who composed it, but to the community to which it bore so subtle arelationship. And he resolved, with a determination that partook of thenature of prayer and yet was more than prayer, to give himself loyally, unsparingly, devotedly to the common task. In this spirit he rose, atthe close of the luncheon, to speak. 

No newspaper reported the maiden speech of Mr. Harrington Surtaine tothe staff of the Worthington "Clarion. " Newspapers are reticent abouttheir own affairs. In this case it is rather a pity, for the effort issaid to have been an eminently successful one. Estimated by its effect, it certainly was, for it materialized with quite spiritistic suddenness, from out the murk of uncertainty and suspicion, the form and substanceof a new _esprit de corps_, among the "Clarion" men, and established thesystem of Talk-it-Over Breakfasts which made a close-knit, jealouslyguarded corporation and club out of the staff. Free of all ostentationor self-assertiveness was Hal's talk; simple, and, above all virtues, brief. He didn't tell his employees what he expected of them. He toldthem what they might expect of him. The frankness of his manner, theself-respecting modesty of his attitude toward an audience of moreexperienced subordinates, his shining faith and belief in the professionwhich he had adopted; all this eked out by his ease of address and hisdominant physical charm, won them from the first. Only at the close didhe venture upon an assertion of his own ideas or theories. 

"It is the Sydney 'Bulletin, ' I think, which preserves as its motto theproposition that every man has at least one good story in him. I havebeen studying newspaper files since I took this job, --all the files ofall the papers I could get, --and I'm almost ready to believe that muchnews which the papers publish has got realer facts up its sleeve: thatthe news is only the shadow of the facts. I'd like to get at the Why ofthe day's news. Do you remember Sherlock Holmes's 'commonplace' divorcesuit, where the real cause was that the husband used to remove his frontteeth and hurl 'em at the wife whenever her breakfast-table conversationwasn't sprightly enough to suit him? Once out of a hundred times, Isuppose, the everyday processes of our courts hide something picturesqueor perhaps important in the background. Any paper that could get andpresent that sort of news would liven up its columns a good deal. And itwould strike a new note in Worthington. I'll give you a motto for the'Clarion, ' gentlemen: 'The Facts Behind the News. ' And now I've said mysay, and I want to hear from you. "

Here for the first time Hal struck a false note. Newspaper men, as aclass, abhor public speaking. So much are they compelled to hear from"those bores who prate intolerably over dinner tables, " that they regardthe man who speaks when he isn't manifestly obliged to, as an enemy tothe public weal, and are themselves most loath thus to add to the sum ofhuman suffering. Merely by way of saving the situation, Wayne, the cityeditor, arose and said a few words complimentary to the new owner. Hewas followed by the head copy-reader in the same strain. Two of theolder sub-editors perpetrated some meaningless but well-meant remarks, and the current of events bade fair to end in complete stagnation, whenfrom out of the ruck, midway of the table, there rose the fringed andcandid head of one William S. Marchmont, the railroad and marketsreporter. 

Marchmont was an elderly man, of a journalistic type fast disappearing. There is little room in the latter-day pressure of newspaper life forthe man who works on "booze. " But though a steady drinker, andoccasionally an unsteady one, Marchmont had his value. He was an expertin his specialty. He had a wide acquaintance, and he seldom becameunprofessionally drunk in working hours. To offset the unwonted strainof rising before noon, however, he had fortified himself for thisoccasion by several cocktails which were manifest in his beaming smileand his expansive flourish in welcoming Mr. Surtaine to the goodlyfellowship of the pen. 

"Very good, all that about the facts behind the news, " he saidgenially. "Very instructive and--and illuminating. But what I wanta askyou is this: We fellows who have to _write_ the facts behind the news;where do we get off?"

"I don't understand you, " said Hal. 

"Lemme explain. Last week we had an accident on the Mid-and-Mud. Engineer ran by his signals. Rear end collision. Seven people killed. Coroner's inquest put all the blame on the engineer. Engineer wasn'ttending to his duty. That's news, isn't it, Mr. Surtaine?"

"Undoubtedly. "

"Yes: but here's the facts. That engineer had been kept on dutyforty-eight hours with only five hours off. He was asleep when he ranpast the block and killed those people. "

"Is he telling the truth, Mac?" asked Hal in a swift aside to Ellis. 

"If he says so, it's right, " replied Ellis. 

"What do you call that?" pursued the speaker. 

"Murder. I call it murder. " Max Veltman, who sat just beyond thespeaker, half rose from his chair. "The men who run the road ought to betried for murder. "

"Oh, _you_ can call it that, all right, in one of your Socialistmeetings, " returned the reporter genially. "But I can't. "

"Why can't you?" demanded Hal. 

"The railroad people would shut down on news to the 'Clarion. ' Icouldn't get a word out of them on anything. What good's a reporter whocan't get news? You'd fire me in a week. "

"Can you prove the facts?"

"I can. "

"Write it for to-morrow's paper. I'll see that you don't lose yourplace. "

Marchmont sat down, blinking. Again there was silence around the table, but this time it was electric, with the sense of flashes to come. Theslow drawl of Lindsay, the theater reporter, seemed anti-climatic as hespoke up, slouched deep in his seat. 

"How much do you know of dramatic criticism in this town, Mr. Surtaine?"

"Nothing. "

"Maybe, then, you'll be pained to learn that we're a set of liars--Imight even go further--myself among the number. There hasn't been honestdramatic criticism written in Worthington for years. "

"That is hard to believe, Mr. Lindsay. "

"Not if you understand the situation. Suppose I roast a show like 'TheNymph in the Nightie' that played here last week. It's vapid and silly, and rotten with suggestiveness. I wouldn't let my kid sister go withingunshot of it. But I've got to tell everybody else's kid sister, throughour columns, that it's a delightful and enlivening _mélange_ of highclass fun and frolic. To be sure, I can praise a fine performance like'Kindling' or 'The Servant in the House, ' but I've got to give just asclean a bill of health to a gutter-and-brothel farce. Otherwise, thehigh-minded gentlemen that run our theaters will cut off my tickets. "

"Buy them at the box-office, " said Hal. 

"No use. They wouldn't let me in. The courts have killed honestcriticism by deciding that a manager can keep a critic out on anypretext or without any. Besides, there's the advertising. We'd losethat. "

"Speaking of advertising, "--now it was Lynch, a young reporter who hadrisen from being an office boy, --"I guess it spoils some pretty goodstories from the down-town district. Look at that accident at Schefferand Mintz's; worth three columns of anybody's space. Tank on the roofbroke, and drowned out a couple of hundred customers. Panic, and brokenbones, and all kinds of things. How much did we give it? One stick! Andwe didn't name the place: just called it 'a Washington Street store. 'There were facts behind _that_ news, all right. But I guess Mr. Shearson wouldn't have been pleased if we'd printed 'em. "

In fact, Shearson, the advertising manager, looked far from pleased atthe mention. 

"If you think a one-day story would pay for the loss of five thousand ayear in advertising, you've got another guess, young man, " he growled. 

"He's right, there, " said Dr. Surtaine, on one side of Hal; and from theother, McGuire Ellis chirped:--

"Things are beginning to open up, all right, Mr. Editor. "

Two aspirants were now vying for the floor, the winner being thepolitical reporter for the paper. 

"Would you like to hear some facts about the news we don't print?" heasked. 

"Go ahead, " replied Hal. "You have the floor. "

"You recall a big suffrage meeting here recently, at which Mrs. Barkerlyfrom London spoke. Well, the chairman of that meeting didn't get a lineof his speech in the papers: didn't even get his name mentioned. Do youknow why?"

"I can't even imagine, " said Hal. 

"Because he's the Socialist candidate for Governor of this State. He'sblackballed from publication in every newspaper here. "

"By whom?" inquired Hal. 

"By the hinted wish of the Chamber of Commerce. They're so afraid of theSocialist movement that they daren't even admit it's alive. "

"Not at all!" Dr. Surtaine's rotund bass boomed out the denial. "Thereare some movements that it's wisest to disregard. They'll die ofthemselves. Socialism is a destructive force. Why should the papers helpspread it by noticing it in their columns?"

"Well, I'm no Socialist, " said the political reporter, "but I'm anewspaper man, and I say it's news when a Socialist does a thing just asmuch as when any one else does it. Yet if I tried to print it, they'dgive me the laugh on the copy-desk. "

"It's a fact that we're all tied down on the news in this town, "corroborated Wayne; "what between the Chamber of Commerce and the DryGoods Union and the theaters and the other steady advertisers. You musthave noticed, Mr. Surtaine, that if there's a shoplifting case oranything of that kind you never see the name of the store in print. It'salways 'A State Street Department Store' or 'A Warburton Avenue Shop. 'Ask Ellis if that isn't so. "

"Correct, " said Ellis. 

"Why shouldn't it be so?" cried Shearson. "You fellows make me tired. You're always thinking of the news and never of the advertising. Who isit pays your salaries, do you think? The men who advertise in the'Clarion. '"

"Hear! Hear!" from Dr. Surtaine. 

"And what earthly good does it do to print stuff like those shopliftingcases? Where's the harm in protecting the store?"

"I'll tell you where, " said Ellis. "That McBurney girl case. They gotthe wrong girl, and, to cover themselves, they tried to railroad her. Itwas a clear case. Every paper in town had the facts. Yet they gave thatgirl the reputation of a thief and never printed a correction for fearof letting in the store for a damage suit. "

"Did the 'Clarion' do that?" asked Hal. 

"Yes. "

"Get me a full report of the facts. "

"What are you going to do?" asked Shearson. 

"Print them. "

"Oh, my Lord!" groaned Shearson. 

The circle was now drawing in and the talk became brisker, moredetailed, more intimate. To his overwhelming amazement Hal learned someof the major facts of that subterranean journalistic history which nevergets into print; the ugly story of the blackmail of a President of theUnited States by a patent medicine concern (Dr. Surtaine verified thiswith a nod); the inside facts of the failure of an important senatorialinvestigation which came to nothing because of the drunken debauchery ofthe chief senatorial investigator; the dreadful details of the death ofa leading merchant in a great Eastern city, which were so glossed overby the local press that few of his fellow citizens ever had an inklingof the truth; the obtainable and morally provable facts of theconspiracy on the part of a mighty financier which had plunged a nationinto panic; these and many other strange narratives of the news, knownto every old newspaper man, which made the neophyte's head whirl. Then, in a pause, a young voice said:

"Well, to bring the subject up to date, what about the deaths in theRookeries?"

"Shut up, " said Wayne sharply. 

There followed a general murmur of question and answer. "What about theRookeries?"--"Don't know. "--"They say the death-rate is a terror. "--"Arethey concealing it at the City Hall?"--"No; Merritt can't findout. "--"Bet Tip O'Farrell can. "--"Oh, he's in on the game. "--"Justanother fake, I guess. "

In vain Hal strove to catch a clue from the confused voices. He had madea note of it for future inquiry, when some one called out: "Mac Ellishasn't said anything yet. " The others caught it up. "Speech fromMac!"--"Don't let him out. "--"If you can't speak, sing a song. "--"Play atune on the _bazoo_. "--"Hike him up there, somebody. "--"Silence for theMacGuire!!"

"I've never made a speech in my life, " said Ellis, glowering about him, "and you fellows know it. But last night I read this in Plutarch:'Themistocles said that he certainly could not make use of any stringedinstrument; could only, were a small and obscure city put into hishands, make it great and glorious. '"

Ellis paused, lifting one hand. "Fellows, " he said, and he turnedsharply to face Hal Surtaine, "I don't know how the devil oldThemistocles ever could do it--unless he owned a newspaper!"

Silence followed, and then a quick acclaiming shout, as they grasped theimplicit challenge of the corollary. Then again silence, tense withcuriosity. No doubt of what they awaited. Their expectancy drew Hal tohis feet. 

"I had intended to speak but once, " he said, in a constrained voice, "but I've learned more here this afternoon--more than--than I could havethought--" He broke off and threw up his hand. "I'm no newspaper man, "he cried. "I'm only an amateur, a freshman at this business. But onething I believe; it's the business of a newspaper to give the newswithout fear or favor, and that's what the 'Clarion' is going to do fromthis day. On that platform I'll stand by any man who'll stand by me. Will you help?"

The answer rose and rang like a cheer. The gathering broke into little, excited, chattering groups, sure symptom of the success of a meeting. Much conjecture was expressed and not a little cynicism. "Compared to usIshmael would be a society favorite if Surtaine carries this through, "said one. "It means suspension in six months, " prophesied Shearson. Butmost of the men were excitedly enthusiastic. Your newspaper man is bynature a romantic; otherwise he would not choose the most adventurous ofcallings. And the fighting tone of the new boss stimulated in them thespirit of chance and change. 

Slowly and reluctantly they drifted away to the day's task. At the closeHal sat, thoughtful and spent, in a far corner when Ellis walked heavilyover to him. The associate editor gazed down at his bemused principalfor a time. From his pocket he drew the thick blue pencil of his craft, and with it tapped Hal thrice on the shoulder. 

"Rise up, Sir Newspaper Man, " he pronounced solemnly. "I hereby dub theeKnight-Editor. "

CHAPTER XII

THE THIN EDGE

Across the fresh and dainty breakfast table, Dr. Miles Elliot surveyedhis even more fresh and dainty niece and ward with an expression ofsternest disapproval. Not that it affected in any perceptible degreethat attractive young person's healthy appetite. It was the habit of thetwo to breakfast together early, while their elderly widowed cousin, whoplayed the part of Feminine Propriety in the household in a highlyself-effacing and satisfactory manner, took her tea and toast in her ownrooms. It was further Dr. Elliot's custom to begin the day byreprehending everything (so far as he could find it out) which Miss Esméhad done, said, or thought in the previous twenty-four hours. This, ashe frequently observed to her, was designed to give her a suitablyhumble attitude toward the scheme of creation, but didn't. 

"Out all night again?" he growled. 

"Pretty nearly, " said Esmé cheerfully, setting a very even row of verywhite teeth into an apple. 

"Humph! What was it this time?"

"A dinner-dance at the Norris's. "

"Have a good time?"

"Beautiful! My frock was pretty. And I was pretty. And everybody wasnice to me. And I wish it were going to happen right over againto-night. "

"Whom did you dance with mostly?"

"Anybody that asked me. "

"Dare say. How many new victims?" he demanded. 

"Don't be a silly Guardy. I'm not a man-eating tiger or tigress, or theGreat American Puma--or pumess. Don't you think 'pumess' is a nicelady-word, Guardy?"

"Did you dance with Will Douglas?" catechised the grizzled doctor, declining to be shunted off on a philological discussion. Next to actingas legal major domo to E. M. Pierce, Douglas's most important function inlife was apparently to fetch and carry for the reigning belle ofWorthington. His devotion to Esmé Elliot had become stock gossip of thetown, since three seasons previous. 

"Almost half as often as he asked me, " said the girl. "That was eighttimes, I think. "

"Nice boy, Will. "

"Boy!" There was a world of expressiveness in the monosyllable. 

"Not a day over forty, " observed the uncle. "And you are twenty-two. Notthat you look it"--judicially--"like thirty-five, after all thisdissipation. "

Esmé rose from her seat, walked with great dignity past her guardian, and suddenly whirling, pounced upon his ear. 

"Do I? Do I?" she cried. "Do I look thirty-five? Quick! Take it back. "

"Ouch! Oh! No. Not more'n thirty. Oo! All right; twenty-five, then. Fifteen! Three!!!"

She kissed the assaulted ear, and pirouetted over to the broadwindow-seat, looking in her simple morning gown like a school-girl. 

"Wonder how you do it, " grumbled Dr. Elliot. "Up all night roisteringlike a sophomore--"

"I was in bed at three. "

"Down next morning, fresh as a--a--"

"Rose, " she supplied tritely. 

"--cake o' soap, " concluded her uncle. "Now, as for you and WillDouglas, as between Will's forty--"

"Marked down from forty-five, " she interjected. 

"And your twenty-two--"

"Looking like thirty-something. "

"Never mind, " said Dr. Elliot in martyred tones. "_I_ don't want tofinish _any_ sentence. Why should I? Got a niece to do it for me. "

"Nobody wants you to finish that one. You're a matchmaking old maid, "declared Esmé, wrinkling her delicate nose at him, "and if you're everput up for our sewing-circle I shall blackball you. Gossip!"

"Oh, if I wanted to gossip, I'd begin to hint about the name ofSurtaine. "

The girl's color did not change. "As other people have evidently beendoing to you. "

"A little. Did you dance with him last night?"

"He wasn't there. He's working very hard on his newspaper. "

"You seem to know a good deal about it. "

"Naturally, since I've bought into the paper myself. I believe that'sthe proper business phrase, isn't it?"

"Bought in? What do you mean? You haven't been making investmentswithout my advice?"

"Don't worry, Guardy, dear. It isn't strictly a business transaction. I've been--ahem--establishing a sphere of influence. "

"Over Harrington Surtaine?"

"Over his newspaper. "

"Look here, Esmé! How serious is this Surtaine matter?" Dr. Elliot'stone had a distinct suggestion of concern. 

"For me? Not serious at all. "

"But for him?"

"How can I tell? Isn't it likely to be serious for any of theunprotected young of your species when a Great American Pumess getsafter him?" she queried demurely. 

"But you can't know him very well. He's been here only a few weeks, hasn't he?"

"More than a month. And from the first he's gone everywhere. "

"That's quite unusual for your set, isn't it? I thought you ratherprided yourselves on being careful about outsiders. "

"No one's an outsider whom Jinny Willard vouches for. Besides every onelikes Hal Surtaine for himself. "

"You among the number?"

"Yes, indeed, " she responded frankly. "He's attractive. And he seemsolder and more--well--interesting than most of the boys of my set. "

"And that appeals to you?"

"Yes: it does. I get awfully bored with the just-out-of-college chatterof the boys. I want to see the wheels go round, Guardy. Real wheels, that make up real machinery and get real things done. I'm not quite an_ingénue_, you know. "

"Thirty-five, thirty, twenty-five, fifteen, three, " murmured her uncle, rubbing his ear. "And does young Surtaine give you inside glimpses ofthe machinery of his business?"

"Sometimes. He doesn't know very much about it himself, yet. "

"It's a pretty dirty business, Honey. And, I'm afraid, he's a pretty badbreed. "

"The father _is_ rather impossible, isn't he?" she said, laughing. "Butthey say he's very kindly, and well-meaning, and public-spirited, andthat kind of thing. "

"He's a scoundrelly old quack. It's a bad inheritance for the boy. Whereare you off to this morning?"

"To the 'Clarion' office. "

"What! Well, but, see here, dear, does Cousin Clarice approve of thatsort of thing?"

"Wholly, " Esmé assured him, dimpling. "It's on behalf of the RecreationClub. That's the Reverend Norman Hale's club for working-girls, youknow. We're going to give a play. And, as I'm on the Press Committee, it's quite proper for me to go to the newspapers and get thingsprinted. "

"Humph!" grunted Dr. Elliot. "Well: good hunting--Pumess. "

After the girl had gone, he sat thinking. He knew well the swiftintimacies, frank and clean and fine, which spring up in the small, close-knit social circles of a city like Worthington. And he knew, too, and trusted and respected the judgment of Mrs. Festus Willard, whosefriendship was tantamount to a certificate of character and eligibility. As against that, he set the unforgotten picture of the itinerant quack, vending his poison across the countryside, playing on desperate fearsand tragic hopes, coining his dollars from the grimmest of false dies;and now that same quack, --powerful, rich, generous, popular, master ofthe good things of life, --still draining out his millions from thepopulace, through just such deadly swindling as that which had beenlighted up by the flaring exploitation of the oil torches fifteen yearsbefore. Could any good come from such a stock? He decided to talk it outwith Esmé, sure that her fastidiousness would turn away from the uglytruth. 

Meantime, the girl was making a toilet of vast and artful simplicitywherewith to enrapture the eye of the beholder. The first profoundeffect thereof was wrought upon Reginald Currier, alias "Bim, " somefifteen minutes later, at the outer portals of the "Clarion" office. 

"Hoojer wanter--" he began, and then glanced up. Almost as swiftly as hehad aforetime risen under Hal's irate and athletic impulsion, theredoubtable Bim was lifted from his seat by the power of Miss Elliot'sglance. "Gee!" he murmured. 

The Great American Pumess, looking much more like a very innocent, soft, and demurely playful kitten, accepted this ingenuous tribute to hercharms with a smile. "Good-morning, " she said. "Is Mr. Surtaine in?"

"Same t'you, " responded the courteous Mr. Currier. "Sure he is. Walkthis way, maddim!"

They found the editor at his desk. His absorbed expression brightenedas he jumped up to greet his visitor. 

"You!" he cried. 

Esmé let her hand rest in his and her glance linger in his eyes, perhapsjust a little longer than might have comported with safety in one lessadept. 

"How is the paper going?" she inquired, taking the chair which he pulledout for her. 

"Completely to the dogs, " said Hal. 

"No! Why I thought--"

"You haven't given any advice to the editor for six whole days, " hecomplained. "How can you expect an institution to run, bereft of itspresiding genius? Is it your notion of a fair partnership to stay awayand let your fellow toilers wither on the bough? I only wonder that thepresses haven't stopped. "

"Would this help at all?" The visitor produced from her shopping-bag thewritten announcement of the Recreation Club play. 

"Undoubtedly it will save the day. Lost Atlantis will thrill to hear, and deep-sea cables bear the good news to unborn generations. What isit?"

She frowned upon his levity. "It is an interesting item, a _very_interesting item of news, " she said impressively. 

"Bring one in every day, " he directed: "in person. We can't trust themails in matters of such vital import. " And scrawling across the copy asingle hasty word in pencil, he thrust it into a wire box. 

"What's that you've written on it?"

"The mystic word 'Must. '"

"Does it mean that it must be printed?"

"Precisely, O Fountain of Intuition. It is one of the proud privilegeswhich an editor-in-chief has. Otherwise he does exactly what the citydesk or the advertising manager or the head proof-reader or the fourthassistant office boy tells him. That's because he's new to his job andeverybody in the place knows it. "

"Yet I don't think it would be easy for any one to make you do a thingyou really didn't want to do, " she observed, regarding him thoughtfully. 

"When you lift your eyebrows like that--"

"I thought you weren't to make pretty speeches to me in business hours, "she reproached him. 

"Such a stern and rock-bound partner! Very well. How does the paper suityour tastes?"

"You've got an awfully funny society column. "

"We strive to amuse. But I thought only people outside of society everread society columns--except to see if their names were there. "

"I read _all_ the paper, " she answered severely. "And I'd like to knowwho Mrs. Wolf Tone Maher is. "

"Ring up 'Information, '" he suggested. 

"Don't be flippant. Also Mr. And Mrs. B. Kirschofer, and Miss AmeliaSproule. All of which give teas in the society columns of the 'Clarion. '_Or_ dances. _Or_ dinners. And I notice they're always sandwiched inbetween the Willards or the Vanes or the Ellisons or the Pierces, orsome of our own crowd. I'm curious. "

"So am I. Let's ask Wayne. "

Accordingly the city editor was summoned and duly presented to MissElliot. But when she put the question to him, he looked uncomfortable. Like a good city editor, however, he defended his subordinate. 

"It isn't the society reporter's fault, " he said. "He knows those peopledon't belong. "

"How do they get in there, then?" asked Hal. 

"Mr. Shearson's orders. "

"Is Mr. Shearson the society editor?" asked Esmé. 

"No. He's the advertising manager. "

"Forgive my stupidity, but what has the advertising manager to do withsocial news?"

"A big heap lot, " explained Wayne. "It's the most important feature ofthe paper to him. Wolf Tone Maher is general manager of the Bee HiveDepartment Store. We get all their advertising, and when Mrs. Maherwants to see her name along with the 'swells, ' as she would say, Mr. Shearson is glad to oblige. B. Kirschofer is senior partner in the firmof Kirschofer & Kraus, of the Bargain Emporium. Miss Sproule is thedaughter of Alexander Sproule, proprietor of the Agony Parlors, threefloors up. "

"Agony Parlors?" queried the visitor. 

"Painless dentistry, " explained Wayne. "Mr. Shearson handles all thatmatter and sends it down to us. "

"Marked 'Must, ' I suppose, " remarked Miss Elliot, not without malice. "So the mystic 'Must' is not exclusively a chief-editorial prerogative?"

The editor-in-chief looked annoyed, thereby satisfying his visitor'smomentary ambition. "Hereafter, Mr. Wayne, all copy indorsed 'Must' isto be referred to me, " he directed. 

"That kills the 'Must' thing, " commented the city editor cheerfully. "What about 'Must not'?"

"Another complication, " laughed Esmé. "I fear I'm peering into the darkand secret places of journalism. "

"For example, a story came in last night that was a hummer, " said Wayne;"about E. M. Pierce's daughter running down an apple-cart in hersixty-horse-power car, and scattering dago, fruit, and all to the fourwinds of Heaven. Robbins saw it, and he's the best reporter we have forreally funny stuff. "

"Kathleen drives that car like a demon out on a spree, " said Esmé. "Butof course you wouldn't print anything unpleasant about it. "

"Why not?" asked Wayne. 

"Well, she belongs to our crowd, --Mr. Surtaine's friends, I mean, --andit was accidental, I suppose, and so long as the man wasn't hurt--"

"Only a sprained shoulder. "

"--and I'm sure Agnes would be more than willing to pay for the damage. "

"Oh, yes. She asked the worth of his stock and then doubled it, gave himthe money, and drove off with her mud guards coquettishly festooned withgrapes. That's what made it such a good story. "

"But, Mr. Wayne"--Esmé's eyes were turned up to his pleadingly: "thosethings are funny to tell. But they're so vulgar, in the paper. Think, ifit were your sister. "

"If my sister went tearing through crowded streets at forty miles anhour, I'd have her examined for homicidal mania. That Pierce girl willkill some one yet. Even then, I suppose we won't print a word of it. "

"What would stop us?" asked Hal. 

"The fear of Elias M. Pierce. His 'Must not' is what kills this story. "

"Let me see it. "

"Oh, it isn't visible. But every editor in town knows too much to offendthe President of the Consolidated Employers' Organization, let alone hispractical control of the Dry Goods Union. "

"You were at the staff breakfast yesterday, I believe, Mr. Wayne. "

"What? Yes; of course I was. "

"And you heard what I said?"

"Yes. But you can't do that sort of thing all at once, " replied the cityeditor uneasily. 

"We certainly never shall do it without making a beginning. Please holdthe Pierce story until you hear from me. "

"Tell me all about the breakfast, " commanded Esmé, as the door closedupon Wayne. 

Briefly Hal reported the exchange of ideas between himself and hisstaff, skeletonizing his own speech. 

"Splendid!" she cried. "And isn't it exciting! I love a good fight. What fun you'll have. Oh, the luxury of saying exactly what you think!Even I can't do that. "

"What limits are there to the boundless privileges of royalty?" askedHal, smiling. 

"Conventions. For instance, I'd love to tell you just how fine I thinkall this is that you're doing, and just how much I like and admire you. We've come to be real friends, haven't we? And, you see, I can be ofsome actual help. The breakfast was my suggestion, wasn't it? So you oweme something for that. Are you properly grateful?"

"Try me. "

"Then, august and terrible sovereign, spare the life of my little friendKathie. "

Hal drew back a bit. "I'm afraid you don't realize the situation. "

The Great American Pumess shot forth a little paw--such a soft, shapely, hesitant, dainty, appealing little paw--and laid it on Hal's hand. 

"Please, " she said. 

"But, Esmé, "--he began. It was the first time he had used that intimacywith her. Her eyes dropped. 

"We're partners, aren't we?" she said. 

"Of course. "

"Then you won't let them print it!"

"If Miss Pierce goes rampaging around the streets--"

"Please. For me, --partner. "

"One would have to be more than human, to say no to you, " he returned, laughing a little unsteadily. "You're corrupting my upright professionalsense of duty. "

"It can't be a duty to hold a friend up to ridicule, just for a littleaccident. "

"I'm not so sure, " said Hal, again. "However, for the sake of ourpartnership, and if you'll promise to come again soon to tell us how torun the paper--"

"I knew you'd be kind!" There was just the faintest pressure of thedelicate paw, before it was withdrawn. The Great American Pumess wasfeeling the thrill of power over men and events. "I think I like thenewspaper business. But I've got to be at my other trade now. "

"What trade is that?"

"Didn't you know I was a little sister of the poor? When you've lost allyour money and are ill, I'll come and lay my cooling hand on yourfevered brow and bring wine jelly to your tenement. "

"Aren't you afraid of contagious diseases?" he asked anxiously. "Suchplaces are always full of them. "

"Oh, they placard for contagion. It's safe enough. And I'm reallyinterested. It's my only excuse to myself for living. "

"If bringing happiness wherever you go isn't enough--"

"No! No!" She smiled up into his eyes. "This is still a business visit. But you may take me to my car. "

On his way back Hal stopped to tell Wayne that perhaps the Pierce storywasn't worth running, after all. Unease of conscience disturbed his workfor a time thereafter. He appeased it by the excuse that it was nothreat or pressure from without which had influenced his action. He hadkilled the item out of consideration for the friend of his friend. Whatdid it matter, anyway, a bit of news like that? Who was harmed byleaving it out? As yet he was too little the journalist to comprehendthat the influences which corrupt the news are likely to be dangerous inproportion as they are subtle. 

Wayne understood better, and smiled with a cynical wryness of mouth uponMcGuire Ellis, who, having passed Hal and Esmé on the stairs, hadlingered at the city desk and heard the editor-in-chief's half-heartedorder. 

"Still worrying about Dr. Surtaine's influence over the paper?" askedthe city editor, after Hal's departure. 

"Yes, " said Ellis. 

"Don't. "

"Why not?"

"Did you happen to notice about the prettiest thing that ever used eyesfor weapons, in the hall?"

"Something of that description. "

"Let me present you, in advance, to Miss Esmé Elliot, the new boss ofour new boss, " said Wayne, with a flourish. 

"God save the Irish!" said McGuire Ellis. 

CHAPTER XIII

NEW BLOOD

Echoes of the Talk-it-Over Breakfast rang briskly in the "Clarion"office. It was suggested to Hal that the success of the functionwarranted its being established as a regular feature of the shop. Laterthis was done. One of the participants, however, was very ill-pleasedwith the morning's entertainment. Dr. Surtaine saw, in retrospect and inprospect, his son being led astray into various radical and harebrainedvagaries of journalism. None of those at the breakfast had foreseen moreclearly than the wise and sharpened quack what serious difficultiesbeset the course which Hal had laid out for himself. 

Trouble was what Dr. Surtaine hated above all things. Whatever taste forthe adventurous he may have possessed had been sated by his career as anitinerant. Now he asked only to be allowed to hatch his golden dollarspeacefully, afar from all harsh winds of controversy. That his own sonshould feel a more stirring ambition left him clucking, a bewildered henon the brink of perilous waters. 

But he clucked cunningly. And before he undertook his appeal to bringthe errant one back to shore he gave himself two days to think it over. To this extent Dr. Surtaine had become a partisan of the new enterprise;that he, too, previsioned an ideal newspaper, a newspaper which, day byday, should uphold and defend the Best Interests of the Community, and, as an inevitable corollary, nourish itself on their bounty. By the BestInterests of the Community--he visualized the phrase in large print, asa creed for any journal--Dr. Surtaine meant, of course, business in thegreat sense. Gloriously looming in the future of his fancy was the daywhen the "Clarion" should develop into the perfect newspaper, the fineflower of journalism, an organ in which every item of news, every lineof editorial, every word of advertisement, should subserve the one vitalpurpose, Business; should aid in some manner, direct or indirect, inmaking a dollar for the "Clarion's" patrons and a dime for the"Clarion's" till. But how to introduce these noble and fortifying idealsinto the mind of that flighty young bird, Hal?

Dr. Surtaine, after studying the problem, decided to employ the instanceof the Mid-State and Great Muddy River Railroad as the entering wedge ofhis argument. Hal owned a considerable block of stock, earning thehandsome dividend of eight per cent. Under attacks possibly leading toadverse legislation, this return might well be reduced and Hal's ownincome suffer a shrinkage. Therefore, in the interests of all concerned, Hal ought to keep his hands off the subject. Could anything be clearer?

Obviously not, the senior Surtaine thought, and so laid it before thejunior, one morning as they were walking down town together. Haladmitted the assault upon the Mid-and-Mud; defended it, even; added thatthere would be another phase of it presently in the way of an attempt onthe part of the paper to force a better passenger service forWorthington. Dr. Surtaine confessed a melancholious inability to seewhat the devil business it was of Hal's. 

"It isn't I that's making the fight, Dad. It's the 'Clarion. '"

"The same thing. "

"Not at all the same thing. Something very much bigger than I or anyother one man. I found that out at the breakfast. "

That breakfast! Socialistic, anarchistic, anti-Christian, were theclimactic adjectives employed by Dr. Surtaine to signify his disapprovalof the occasion. 

"Sorry you didn't like it, Dad. You heard nothing but plain facts. "

"Plain slush! Just look at this railroad accident articlebroad-mindedly, Boyee. You own some Mid-and-Mud stock. "

"Thanks to you, Dad. "

"Paying eight per cent. How long will it go on paying that if thenewspapers keep stirring up trouble for it? Anti-railroad sentiment isfostered by just such stuff as the 'Clarion' printed. What if theengineer _was_ worked overtime? He got paid for it. "

"And seven people got killed for it. I understand the legislature isgoing to ask why, mainly because of our story and editorial. "

"There you are! Sicking a pack of demagogues onto the Mid-and-Mud. Howcan it make profits and pay your dividends if that kind of thing keepsup?"

"I don't know that I need dividends earned by slaughtering people, " saidHal slowly. 

"Maybe you don't need the dividends, but there's plenty of people thatdo, people that depend on 'em. Widows and orphans, too. "

"Oh, that widow-and-orphan dummy!" cried Hal. "What would the poor, struggling railroads ever do without it to hide behind!"

"You talk like Ellis, " reproved his father. "Boyee, I don't want you toget too much under his influence. He's an impractical will-o'-the-wispchaser. Just like all the writing fellows. "

By this time they had reached the "Clarion" Building. 

"Come in, Dad, " invited Hal, "and we'll talk to Ellis about Old HomeWeek. He's with you there, anyway. "

"Oh, he's all right aside from his fanatical notions, " said the other asthey mounted the stairs. 

The associate editor nodded his greetings from above a pile of left-overcopy. 

"Old Home Week?" he queried. "Let's see, when does it come?"

"In less than six months. It isn't too early to give it a start, is it?"asked Hal Surtaine. 

"No. It's news any time, now. "

"More than that, " said Dr. Surtaine. "It's advertising. I can turn everyad. That goes out to the 'Clarion. '"

"Last year we got only the pickings, " remarked Ellis. 

"Last year your owner wasn't the son of the committee's chairman. "

"By the way, Dad, I'll have to resign that secretaryship. Every minuteof my spare time I'm going to put in around this office. "

"I guess you're right. But I'm sorry to lose you. "

"Think how much more I can do for the celebration with this paper than Icould as secretary. "

"Right, again. "

"Some one at the breakfast, " observed Hal, "mentioned the Rookeries, andWayne shut him up. What are the Rookeries? I've been trying to rememberto ask. "

The other two looked at each other with raised eyebrows. As well mightone have asked, "What is the City Hall?" in Worthington. Ellis was theone to answer. 

"Hell's hole and contamination. The worst nest of tenements in theState. Two blocks of 'em, owned by our best citizens. Run by a politicalpull. So there's no touching 'em. "

"What's up there now; more murders?" asked the Doctor. 

"Somebody'll be calling it that if it goes much further, " replied thenewspaper man. "I don't know what the official _alias_ of the troubleis. If you want details, get Wayne. "

In response to a telephone call the city editor presented his lank formand bearded face at the door of the sanctum. "The Rookeries deaths?" hesaid. "Oh, malaria--for convenience. "

"Malaria?" repeated Dr. Surtaine. "Why, there aren't any mosquitoes inthat locality now. "

"So the health officer, Dr. Merritt, says. But the certificates keepcoming in. He's pretty worried. There have been over twenty cases in No. 7 and No. 9 alone. Three deaths in the last two days. "

"Is it some sort of epidemic starting?" asked Hal. "That would be news, wouldn't it?"

At the word "epidemic, " Dr. Surtaine had risen, and now came forwardflapping his hand like a seal. 

"The kind of news that never ought to get into print, " he exclaimed. "That's the sort of thing that hurts a whole city. "

"So does an epidemic if it gets a fair start, " suggested Ellis. 

"Epidemic! Epidemic!" cried the Doctor. "Ten years ago they started ascare about smallpox in those same Rookeries. The smallpox didn't amountto shucks. But look what the sensationalism did to us. It choked off OldHome Week, and lost us hundreds of thousands of dollars. "

"I was a cub on the 'News' then, " said Wayne. "And I remember there werea lot of deaths from chicken-pox that year. I didn't supposepeople--that is, grown people--died of chicken-pox very often: not moreoften, say, than they die of malaria where there are no mosquitoes. "

"Suspicion is one thing. Fact is another, " said Dr. Surtaine decisively. "Hal, I hope you aren't going to take up with this nonsense, and riskthe success of the Centennial Old Home Week. "

"I can't see what good we should be doing, " said the new editor. 

"It's big news, if it's true, " suggested Wayne, rather wistfully. "Suppression of a real epidemic. "

"Ghost-tales and goblin-shine, " laughed the big doctor, recovering hisgood humor. "Who's the physician down there?"

"Dr. De Vito, an Italian. Nobody else can get into the Rookeries to seea case. O'Farrell's the agent, and he sees to that. "

"Tip O'Farrell, the labor politician? I know him. And I know De Vitowell. In fact, he does part-time work in the Certina plant. I'll tellyou what, Hal. I'll just make a little expert investigation of my owndown there, and report to you. "

"The 'Clarion's' Special Commissioner, Dr. L. André Surtaine, " saidEllis sonorously. 

"No publicity, boys. This is a secret commission. And here's your chanceright now to make the 'Clarion' useful to the committee, Hal, by keepingall scare-stuff out of the paper. "

"If it really does amount to anything, wouldn't it be better, " said Hal, "to establish a quarantine and go in there and stamp the thing out?We've plenty of time before Old Home Week. "

"No; no!" cried the Doctor. "Think of the publicity that would mean. Itwould be a year before the fear of it would die out. Every other citythat's jealous of Worthington would make capital of it and thousands ofpeople whose money we want would be scared away. "

Ellis drew Wayne aside. "What does Dr. Merritt really think? Smallpox?"

"No. The place has been too well vaccinated. It might be scarlet fever, or diphtheria, or even meningitis. Merritt wants to go in there and openit up, but the Mayor won't let him. He doesn't dare take theresponsibility without any newspaper backing. And none of the otherpapers dares tackle the ownership of the Rookeries. "

"Then we ought to. A good, rousing sensation of that sort is just whatthe paper needs. "

"We won't get it. There's too many ropes on the Boy Boss. First the girland now the old man. "

"Wait and see. He's got good stuff in him and he's being educated everyday. Give him time. "

"Mr. Wayne, I'd like to see the health office reports, " called Hal, andthe two went out. 

Selecting one of his pet cigars, Dr. Surtaine advanced upon McGuireEllis, extending it. "Mac, you're a good fellow at bottom, " he saidpersuasively. 

"What's the price, " asked Ellis, "of the cigar and the complimenttogether? In other words, what do you want of me?"

"Keep your hands off the boy. "

"Didn't I offer fair and square to match you for his soul? You insistedon fight. "

"If you'd just let him alone, " pursued the quack, "he'd come aroundright side up with care. He's sound and sensible at bottom. He's got alot of me in him. But you keep feeding him up on your yellow journalideas. What'll they ever get him? Trouble; nothing but trouble. Even ifyou should make a sort of success of the paper with your wildsensationalism it wouldn't be any real good to Hal. It wouldn't get himanywhere with the real people. It'd be a sheet he'd always have to be alittle ashamed of. I tell you what, Mac, in order to respect himself aman has got to respect his business. "

"Just so, " said McGuire Ellis. "Do you respect your business, Doc?"

"Do I!! It makes half a million a year clear profit. "

The associate editor turned to his work whistling softly. 

CHAPTER XIV

THE ROOKERIES

Two conspicuous ornaments of Worthington's upper world visitedWorthington's underworld on a hot, misty morning of early June. Bothwere there on business, Dr. L. André Surtaine in the fulfillment of hisagreement with his son--the exact purpose of the visit, by the way, would have inspired Harrington Surtaine with unpleasant surprise, couldhe have known it; and Miss Esmé Elliot on a tour of inspection for theVisiting Nurses' Association, of which she was an energetic official. Whatever faults or foibles might be ascribed to Miss Elliot, she was nofaddist. That which she undertook to do, she did thoroughly and well;and for practical hygiene she possessed an inborn liking and aptitude, far more so than, for example, her fortuitous fellow slummer of themorning, Dr. Surtaine, whom she encountered at the corner where theRookeries begin. The eminent savant removed his hat with a fineflourish, further reflected in his language as he said:--

"What does Beauty so far afield?"

"Thank you, if you mean me, " said Esmé demurely. 

"Do you see something else around here that answers the description?"

"No: I certainly don't, " she replied, letting her eyes wander along thestreet where Sadler's Shacks rose in grime and gauntness to offend theclean skies. "I am going over there to see some sick people. "

"Ah! Charity as well as Beauty; the perfect combination. "

The Doctor's pomposity always amused Esmé. "And what does Science so farfrom its placid haunts?" she mocked. "Are you scattering the blessingsof Certina amongst a grateful proletariat?"

"Not exactly. I'm down here on some other business. "

"Well, I won't keep you from it, Dr. Surtaine. Good-bye. "

The swinging doors of a saloon opened almost upon her, and a short, broad-shouldered foreigner, in a ruffled-up silk hat, bumped into herlightly and apologized. He jogged up to Dr. Surtaine. 

"Hello, De Vito, " said Dr. Surtaine. 

"At the service of my distinguish' confrère, " said the squat Italian. "Am I require at the factory?"

"No. I've come to look into this sickness. Where is it?"

"The opposite eemediate block. "

Dr. Surtaine eyed with disfavor the festering tenement indicated. "Newcases?"

"Two, only. "

"Who's treating them?"

"I am in charge. Mr. O'Farrell employs my services: so the pipple havenot to pay anything. All the time which I am not at the Certina factory, I am here. "

"Just so. And no other doctor gets in?"

"There is no call. They are quite satisfied. "

"And is the Board of Health satisfied?"

The employee shrugged his shoulders and spread his hands. "How is it youAmericans say? 'What he does not know cannot hurt somebody. '"

"Is O'Farrell agent for all these barracks?" Dr. Surtaine inquired asthey walked up the street. 

"All. Many persons own, but Mr. O'Farrell is boss of all. This Number 4, Mr. Gibbs owns. He is of the great department store. You know. A ver'fine man, Mr. Gibbs. "

"A very fine fool, " retorted the Doctor, "to let himself get mixed upwith such rotten property. Why, it's a reflection on all us men ofstanding. "

"Nobody knows he is owner. And it pays twelve per cent, " said theItalian mildly. He paused at the door. "Do we go in?" he asked. 

An acrid-soft odor as of primordial slime subtly intruded upon thesensory nerves of the visitor. The place breathed out decay; the decayof humanity, of cleanliness, of the honest decencies of life turnedfoul. Something lethal exhaled from that dim doorway. There was a stabof pestilence, reaching for the brain. But the old charlatan was nocoward. 

"Show me the cases, " he said. 

For an hour he moved through the black, stenchful passageways, up anddown ramshackle stairs, from human warren to human warren, pausing hereto question, there to peer and sniff and poke with an exploring cane. Out on the street again he drew full, heaving breath. 

"O'Farrell's got to clean up. That's all there is to that, " he saiddecisively. 

"The Doctor thinks?" queried the little physician. 

Dr. Surtaine shook his head. "I don't know. But I'm sure of one thing. There's three of them ought to be gotten out at once. The third-floorwoman, and that brother and sister in the basement. "

"And the German family at the top?"

Dr. Surtaine tapped his chest significantly. "Sure to be plenty of thatin this kind of hole. Nothing to do but let 'em die. " He did not mentionthat he had left a twenty-dollar bill and a word of cheer with thegasping consumptive and his wife. Outside of the line of business Dr. Surtaine's charities were silent. "How many of the _other_ cases haveyou had here?"

"Eleven. Seven deaths. Four I take away. "

"And what is your diagnosis, Doctor?" inquired the old quackprofessionally of the younger ignoramus. 

Again De Vito shrugged. "For public, malignant malaria. How you call it?Pernicious. For me, I do' know. Maybe--" he leaned forward and spoke alow word. 

"Meningitis?" repeated the other. "Possibly. I've never seen much ofthe infectious kind. What are you giving for it?"

"Certina, mostly. "

Dr. Surtaine looked at him sharply, but the Italian's face was innocentof any sardonic expression. 

"As well that as anything, " muttered its proprietor. "By the way, youmight get testimonials from any of 'em that get well. Can you findO'Farrell?"

"Yes, sir. "

"Tell him I want to see him at my office at two o'clock. "

"Ver' good. What do you think it is, Doctor?"

Dr. Surtaine waved a profound hand. "Very obscure. Demandsconsideration. But get those cases out of the city. There's no occasionto risk the Board of Health seeing them. "

At the corner Dr. Surtaine again met Miss Elliot and stopped her. "Mydear young lady, ought you to be risking your safety in such places asthese?"

"No one ever interferes. My badge protects me. "

"But there's so much sickness. "

"That is what brings me, " she smiled. 

"It might be contagious. In fact, I have reason to believe that thereis--er--measles in this block. "

"I've had it, thank you. May I give you a lift in my car?"

"No, thank you. But I think you should consult your uncle before cominghere again. "

"The entire Surtaine family seems set upon barring me from theRookeries. I wonder why. "

With which parting shot she left him. Going home, he bathed and changedinto his customary garb of smooth black, to which his rotund placidityof bearing imparted an indescribably silky finish. His discarded clotheshe put, with his own hands, into an old grip, sprinkled them plenteouslywith a powerful disinfectant, and left orders that they be destroyed. It was a phase of Dr. Surtaine's courage that he never took uselessrisks, either with his own life, or (outside of business) with the livesof others. 

Having lunched, he went to his office where he found O'Farrell waiting. The politician greeted him with a mixture of deference and familiarity. At one stage of their acquaintance familiarity had predominated, whenhaving put through a petty but particularly rancid steal for the benefitof the Certina business, O'Farrell had become inspired with effusivenessto the extent of addressing his patron as "Doc. " He never made thatparticular error again. Yet, to the credit of Dr. Surtaine's tact andknowledge of character be it said, O'Farrell was still the older man'sloyal though more humble friend, after the incident. To-day he wasplainly apprehensive. 

"Them other cases the same thing?" he asked. 

"Yes, O'Farrell. "

"What is it?"

"That I can't tell you. "

"You went in and saw 'em?"

Dr. Surtaine nodded. 

"By God, I wouldn't do it, " declared O'Farrell, shivering. "I wouldn'tgo in there, not to collect the rent! It's catching, ain't it?"

"In all probability it is a contagious or zymotic disease. "

The politician shook his head, much impressed, as it was intended heshould be. 

"Cleaning-up time for you, I guess, O'Farrell, " pursued the other. 

"All right, if you say so. But I won't have any Board o' Health snitchesbossing it. They'd want to pull the whole row down. "

"Exactly what ought to be done. "

"What! And it averagin' better'n ten per cent, " cried the agent in soscandalized a tone that the Doctor could not but smile. 

"How have you managed to keep them out, thus far?"

"Haven't. There's been a couple of inspectors around, but I stalled 'emoff. And we got the sick cases out right from under 'em. "

"Dr. Merritt is a hard man to handle if he once gets started. "

"He's got his hands full. The papers have been poundin' him because hismilk regulations have put up the price. Persecution of the dairymen, they call it. Well, persecution of an honest property owner--with apull--won't look pretty for Mr. Health Officer if he don't find nothingthere. And the papers'll back me. "

"Ellis of the 'Clarion' has his eye on the place. "

"You can square that through your boy, can't you?"

The Doctor had his own private doubts, but didn't express them. "Leaveit to me, " he said. "Get some disinfectants and clean up. Your ownerscan stand the bill--at ten per cent. Much obliged for coming in, O'Farrell. "

As the politician went out an office girl entered and announced:

"There's a man out in the reception hall, Doctor, waiting to see you. He's asleep with his elbow on the stand. "

"Wake him up and ask him for his berth-check, Alice, " said Dr. Surtaine, "and if he says his name is Ellis, send him in. "

Ellis it was who entered and dropped into the chair pushed forward byhis host. 

"Glad to see you, my boy, " Dr. Surtaine greeted him. "I thought you weregoing to send a reporter. "

"Ordinarily we would have sent one. But I'm pretty well interested inthis myself. I expected to hear from you long ago. "

"Busy, my boy, busy. It's only been a week since I undertook theinvestigation. And these things take time. "

"Apparently. What's the result?"

"Nothing. " The quack spread his hands abroad in a blank gesture. "Falsealarm. Couple of cases of typhoid and some severe tonsillitis, thatlooked like diphtheria. "

"People die of tonsillitis, do they?"

"Sometimes. "

"And are buried?"

"Naturally. "

"What in?"

"Why, in coffins, I suppose. "

"Then why were these bodies buried in quicklime?"

"What bodies?"

"Last week's lot. "

"You mean in Canadaga County? O'Farrell said nothing about quicklime. "

"That's what I mean. Apparently O'Farrell _did_ say something about morecorpses smuggled out last week. "

"Mr. Ellis, " said the Doctor, annoyed at his slip, "I am not on thewitness stand. "

"Dr. Surtaine, " returned the other in the same tone, "when you undertakean investigation for the 'Clarion, ' you are one of my reporters and Iexpect a full and frank report from you. "

"Bull's-eye for you, my boy. You win. They did run those cases out. Before we're through with it they'll probably run more out. You see, theHealth Bureau has got it in for O'Farrell, and if they knew there wasanything up there, they'd raise a regular row and queer thingsgenerally. "

"What _is_ up?"

"Honestly, I don't know. "

"Nor even suspect?"

"Well, it might be scarlet fever. Or, perhaps diphtheria. You seestrange types sometimes. "

"If it's either, failure to report is against the law. "

"Technically, yes. But we've got it fixed to clean things up. The peoplewill be looked after. There's no real danger of its spreading much. Andyou know how it is. The Rookeries have got a bad name, anyway. Anythingstarting there is sure to be exaggerated. Why, look at that chicken-poxepidemic a few years ago. "

"I understand nobody who had been vaccinated got any of the chicken-pox, as you call it. "

"That's as may be. What did it amount to, anyway? Nothing. Yet it almostruined Old Home Week. "

"Naturally you don't want the Centennial Home Week endangered. But wedon't want the health of the city endangered. "

"'We. ' Who's we?"

"Well, the 'Clarion. '"

"Don't work the guardian-of-the-people game on me, my boy. And don'tworry about the city's health. If this starts to spread we'll takemeasures. "

By no means satisfied with this interview, McGuire Ellis left theCertina plant, and almost ran into Dr. Elliot, whom he hailed, for hehad the faculty of knowing everybody. 

"Not doing any doctoring nowadays, are you?"

"No, " retorted the other. "Doing any sickening, yourself?"

Ellis grinned. "It's despairing weariness that makes me look this way. I'm up against a tougher job than old Diogenes. I'm looking for anhonest doctor. "

"You fish in muddy waters, " commented his acquaintance, glancing up atthe Certina Building. 

"There's something very wrong down in the Twelfth Ward. "

"Not going in for reform politics, are you?"

"This isn't political. Some kind of disease has broken out inO'Farrell's Rookeries. "

"Delirium tremens, " suggested Dr. Elliot. 

"Yes: that's a funny joke, " returned the other, unmoved; "but did youever hear of any one sneaking D-T cases across the county line at nightto a pest-house run by a political friend of O'Farrell's?"

"Can't say I have. "

"Or burying the dead in quicklime?"

"Quicklime? What's this, 'Clarion' sensationalism?"

"Don't be young. I'm telling you. Quicklime. Canadaga County. "

Not only had Dr. Elliot served his country in the navy, but he had doneduty in that efficient fighting force, which reaps less honor andfollows a more noble, self-sacrificing and courageous ideal than anyarmy or navy, the United States Public Health Service. Under that bannerhe had fought famines, panic, and pestilence, from the strickenlumber-camps of the North, to the pent-in, quarantined bayous of theSouth; and now, at the hint of danger, there came a battle-glint intohis sharp eyes. 

"Tell me what you know. "

"Now you're talking!" said the newspaper man. "It's little enough. Butwe've got it straight that they've been covering up some disease forweeks. "

"What do the certificates call it?"

"Malaria and septic something, I believe. "

"Septicæmia hemorrhagica?"

"That's it. "

"An alias. That's what they called bubonic plague in San Francisco andyellow fever in Texas in the old days of concealment. "

"It couldn't be either of those, could it?"

"No. But it might be any reportable disease: diphtheria, smallpox, anyof 'em. Even that hardly explains the quicklime. "

"Could you look into it for us; for the 'Clarion'?"

"I? Work for the 'Clarion'?"

"Why not?"

"I don't like your paper. "

"But you'd be doing a public service. "

"Possibly. How do I know you'd print what I discovered--supposing Idiscovered anything?"

"We're publishing an honest paper, nowadays. "

"_Are_ you? Got this morning's?"

Like all good newspaper men, McGuire Ellis habitually went armed with acopy of his own paper. He produced it from his coat pocket. 

"Honest, eh?" muttered the physician grimly as he twisted the "Clarion"inside out. "Honest! Well, not to go any farther, what about this forhonesty?"

Top of column, "next to reading, " as its contract specified, the lure ofthe Neverfail Company stood forth, bold and black. "Boon to TroubledWomanhood" was the heading. Dr. Elliot read, with slow emphasis, thelying half-promises, the specious pretenses of the company's "ReliefPills. " "No Case too Obstinate": "Suppression from Whatever Cause":"Thousands of Women have Cause to Bless this Sovereign Remedy": "Savedfrom Desperation. "

"No doubt what that means, is there?" queried the reader. 

"It seems pretty plain. "

"What do you mean, then, by telling me you run an honest paper when youcarry an abortion advertisement every day?"

"Will that medicine cause abortion?"

"Certainly it won't cause abortion!"

"Well, then. "

"Can't you see that makes it all the worse, in a way? It promises tobring on abortion. It encourages any fool girl who otherwise might bewithheld from vice by fear of consequences. It puts a weapon of argumentinto the hands of every rake and ruiner; 'If you get into trouble, thisstuff will fix you all right. ' How many suicides do you suppose your'Boon to Womanhood' and its kind of hellishness causes in a year, thanksto the help of your honest journalism?"

"When I said we were honest, I wasn't thinking of the advertising. "

"But I am. Can you be honest on one page and a crook on another? Canyou bang the big drum of righteousness in one column and promise falselyin the next to commit murder? Ellis, why does the 'Clarion' carry suchstuff as that?"

"Do you really want to know?"

"Well, you're asking me to help your sheet, " the ex-surgeon remindedhim. 

"Because Dr. L. André Surtaine _is_ the Neverfail Company. "

"Oh, " said the other. "And I suppose Dr. L. André Surtaine _is_ the'Clarion, ' also. Well, I don't choose to be associated with thathonorable and high-minded polecat, thank you. "

"Don't be too sure about the 'Clarion. ' Harrington Surtaine isn't hisfather. "

"The same rotten breed. "

"Plus another strain. Where it comes from I don't know, but there'ssomething in the boy that may work out to big ends. "

Dr. Miles Elliot was an abrupt sort of person, as men of independentlives and thought are prone to be. "Look here, Ellis, " he said: "are youtrying to be honest, yourself? Now, don't answer till you've countedthree. "

"One--two--three, " said McGuire Ellis solemnly. "I'm honestly trying toput the 'Clarion' on the level. That's what you really want to know, Isuppose. "

"Against all the weight of influence of Dr. Surtaine?"

"Bless you; he doesn't half realize he's a crook. Thinks he's a prettyfine sort of chap. The worst of it is, he _is_, too, in some ways. "

"Good to his family, I suppose, in the intervals of distributing poisonand lies. "

"He's all wrapped up in the boy. Which is going to make it all theharder. "

"Make what all the harder?"

"Prying 'em apart. "

"Have you set yourself that little job?"

"Since we're speaking out in meeting, I have. "

"Good. Why are you speaking out in meeting to me, particularly?"

"On the theory that you may have reason for being interested in Mr. Harrington Surtaine. "

"Don't know him. "

"Your niece does. "

"Just how does that concern this discussion?"

"What business is it of mine, you mean. Well, Dr. Elliot, I'm prettymuch interested in trying to make a real newspaper out of the 'Clarion. 'My notion of a real newspaper is a decent, clean newspaper. If I can getmy young boss to back me up, we'll have a try at my theory. To do this, I'll use any fair means. And if Miss Elliot's influence is going to beon my side, I'm glad to play it off against Dr. Surtaine's. "

"Look here, Ellis, I don't like this association of my niece's name withyoung Surtaine. "

"All right. I'll drop it, if you object. Maybe I'm wrong. I don't knowMiss Elliot, anyway. But sooner or later there's coming one big fight inthe 'Clarion' office, and it's going to open two pairs of eyes. Old DocSurtaine is going to discover his son. Hal Surtaine is going to find outabout the old man. Neither of 'em is going to be awfully pleased. And inthat ruction the fate of the Neverfail Company's ad. Is going to bedecided and with it the fate and character of the 'Clarion. ' Now, Dr. Elliot, my cards are on the table. Will you help me in the Rookeriesmatter?"

"What do you want me to do?"

"Go cautiously, and find out what that disease is. "

"I'll go there to-morrow. "

"They won't let you in. "

"Won't they?" Dr. Elliot's jaw set. 

"Don't risk it. Some of O'Farrell's thugs will pick a fight with you andthe whole thing will be botched. "

"How about getting a United States Public Health Surgeon down here?"

"Fine! Can you do it?"

"I think so. It will take time, though. "

"That can't be helped. I'll look you up in a few days. "

"All right. And, Ellis, if I can help in the other thing--theclean-up--I'm your man. "

Meantime from his office Dr. Surtaine had, after several attempts, succeeded in getting the Medical Office of Canadaga County on thetelephone. 

"Hello! That you, Doctor Simons?--Seen O'Farrell?--Yes; you ought to getin touch with him right away--Three more cases going over to you. --Oh, they're there, are they? You're isolating them, aren't you?--Pest-house?That's all right. --All bills will be paid--liberally. Youunderstand?--What are you calling it? Diphtheria?--Good enough for thepresent. --Ever see infectious meningitis? I thought it might be that, maybe--No? What do you think, then?--_What_! Good God, man! It can't be!Such a thing has never been heard of in this part of thecountry--What?--Yes: you're right. We can't talk over the 'phone. Comeover to-morrow. Good-bye. "

Putting up the receiver, Dr. Surtaine turned to his desk and satimmersed in thought. Presently he shook his head. He scratched a fewnotes on a pad, tore off the sheet and thrust it into the small safe athis elbow. Proof of a half-page Certina display beckoned him in buoyant, promissory type to his favorite task. He glanced at the safe. Once againhe shook his head, this time more decisively, took the scribbled paperout and tore it into shreds. Turning to the proof he bent over it, striking out a word here, amending there, jotting in a printer'sdirection on the margin; losing himself in the major interest. 

The "special investigator" of the "Clarion" was committing theunpardonable sin of journalism. He was throwing his paper down. 

CHAPTER XV

JUGGERNAUT

Misfortunes never come singly--to the reckless. The first mischancebreeds the second, apparently by ill luck, but in reality through theinfluence of irritant nerves. Thus descended Nemesis upon Miss KathleenPierce. Not that Miss Pierce was of a misgiving temperament: she had toocalm and superb a conviction of her own incontrovertible privilege inevery department of life for that. But Esmé Elliot had given her a hintof her narrow escape from the "Clarion, " and she was angry. To thePierce type of disposition, anger is a spur. Kathleen's large green carincreased its accustomed twenty-miles-an-hour pace, from which thepolice of the business section thoughtfully averted their faces, tosomething nearer twenty-five. Three days after the wreck of the applecart, she got results. 

Harrington Surtaine was crossing diagonally to the "Clarion" office whenthe moan of a siren warned him for his life, and he jumped back from thePierce juggernaut. As it swept by he saw Kathleen at the wheel. Besideher sat her twelve-year-old brother. A miscellaneous array of smallluggage was heaped behind them. 

"Never mind the speed laws, " murmured Hal softly. "_Sauve qui peut_. There, by Heavens, she's done it!"

The car had swerved at the corner, but not quite quickly enough. Therewas a snort of the horn, a scream that gritted on the ear like theclamor of tortured metals, and a huddle of black and white was flungalmost at Hal's feet. Equally quick with him, a middle-aged man, evidently of the prosperous working-classes, helped him to pick thewoman up. She was a trained nurse. The white band on her uniform wassplotched with blood. She groaned once and lapsed, inert, in their arms. 

"Help me get her to the automobile, " said Hal. "This is a hospitalcase. "

"What automobile?" said the other. 

Hal glanced up the street. He saw the green car turning a corner, a fullblock away. 

"She didn't even stop, " he muttered, in a paralysis of surprise. 

"Stop?" said the other. "Her? That's E. M. Pierce's she-whelp. True tothe breed. She don't care no more for a workin'-woman's life than herfather does for a workin'-man's. "

A policeman hurried up, glanced at the woman and sent in an ambulancecall. 

"I want your name, " said Hal to the stranger. 

"What for?"

"Publication now. Later, prosecution. I'm the editor of the 'Clarion. '"

The man took off his hat and scratched his head. "Leave me out of it, "he said. 

"You won't help me to get justice for this woman?'" cried Hal. 

"What can you do to E. M. Pierce's girl in this town?" retorted the manfiercely. "Don't he own the town?"

"He doesn't own the 'Clarion. '"

"Let the 'Clarion' go up against him, then. I daresn't. "

"You'll never get him, " said a voice close to Hal's ear. It was Veltman, the foreman of the 'Clarion' composing-room. "He's a street-caremployee. It's as much as his job is worth to go up against Pierce. "

They were pressed back, as the clanging ambulance arrived with itswhite-coated commander. 

"No; not dead, " he said. "Help me get her in. "

This being accomplished, Hal hurried up to the city room of the paper. He remembered the pile of suit-cases in the Pierce car, and made hisdeductions. 

"Send a reporter to the Union Station to find Kathleen Pierce. She's ina green touring-car. She's just run down a trained nurse. Have himinterview her; ask her why she didn't turn back after she struck thewoman; whether she doesn't know the law. Find out if she's going to thehospital. Get her estimate of how fast she was going. We'll printanything she says. Then he's to go to St. James Hospital, and ask aboutthe nurse. I'll give him the details of the accident. "

News of a certain kind, of the kind important to the inner machinery ofa newspaper, spreads swiftly inside an office. Within an hour, Shearson, the advertising manager, was at his chief's desk. 

"About that story of Miss Pierce running over the trained nurse, " hebegan. 

"What is your suggestion?" asked Hal curiously. 

"E. M. Pierce is a power in this town, and out of it. He's the real headof the Retail Dry Goods Union. He's a director in the Security PowerProducts Company. He's the big boss of the National ConsolidatedEmployers' Association. He practically runs the Retail Dry Goods Union. Gibbs, of the Boston Store, is his brother-in-law, and the girl's uncle. Mr. Pierce has got a hand in pretty much everything in Worthington. Andhe's a bad man in a fight. "

"So I have heard. "

"If we print this story--"

"We're going to print the story, Mr. Shearson. "

"It's full of dynamite. "

"It was a brutal thing. If she hadn't driven right on--"

"But she's only a kid. "

"The more reason why she shouldn't be driving a car. "

"Why have you got it in for her, Mr. Surtaine?" ventured the other. 

"I haven't got it in for her. But we've let her off once. And this istoo flagrant a case. "

"It means a loss of thousands of dollars in advertising, just as like asnot. "

"That can't be helped. "

Shearson did the only thing he could think of in so unheard-of anemergency. He went out to call up the office of E. M. Pierce. 

Left to his own thoughts, the editor-in-chief reconstructed the scene ofthe outrage. None too strong did that term seem to him. The incrediblecallousness of the daughter of millions, speeding away without abackward glance at the huddled form in the gutter, set a flame of wrathto heating his brain. He built up a few stinging headlines, and selectedone which he set aside. "GIRL PLAYS JUGGERNAUT. ELIAS M. PIERCE'SDAUGHTER SERIOUSLY INJURES NURSE AND LEAVES HER LYING IN GUTTER. " Notlong after he had concluded, McGuire Ellis entered, slumped into hischair, and eyed his employer from under bent brows. 

"Got a grip on your temper?" he asked presently. 

"What's the occasion?" countered Hal. 

"I think you're going to have an interview with Elias M. Pierce. "

"Where and when?"

"In his office. As soon as you can get there. "

"I think not. "

"Not?" repeated Ellis, conning the other with his curious air. 

"Why should I go to Elias M. Pierce's office?"

"Because he's sent for you. "

"Don't be absurd, Mac. "

"And don't _you_ be young. In all Worthington there aren't ten men thatdon't jump when Elias M. Pierce crooks his finger. Who are you, to jointhat noble company of martyrs?" Achieving no nibble on this bait, thespeaker continued: "Jerry Saunders has been keeping Wayne's telephoneon the buzz, ordering the story stopped. "

"Who is Jerry Saunders?"

"Pierce's man, and master of our fates. So he thinks, anyway. In otherwords, general factotum of the Boston Store. Wayne told him the matterwas in your hands. All storm signals set, and E. M. 's secretarytelephoning that the Great Man wants to see you at once. _Don't_ youthink it would be safer to go?"

Mr. Harrington Surtaine swung full around on his chair, looked at hisassistant with that set and level gaze of which Esmé Elliot hadaforetime complained, and turned back again. A profound chuckle soundedfrom behind him. 

"This'll be a shock to Mr. Pierce, " said Ellis. "I'll break itdiplomatically to his secretary. " And thus was the manner of the Celt'sdiplomacy. "Hello, --Mr. Pierce's secretary?--Tell Mr. Pierce--get this_verbatim_, please, --that Mr. Harrington Surtaine is busy at present, but will try to find time to see him here--_here_, mind you, at the'Clarion' office, at 4. 30 this afternoon--What? Oh, yes; you understood, all right. Don't be young. --What? Do _not_ sputter into the'phone. --Just give him the message. --No; Mr. Surtaine will not speakwith you. --Nor with Mr. Pierce. He's busy. --_Good_-bye. "

"Two hours leeway before the storm, " said Hal. "Why deliberately stirhim up, Mac?"

"No one ever saw Pierce lose his temper. I've a curiosity in thatdirection. Besides, he'll be easier to handle, mad. Do you know Pierce?"

"I've lunched with him, and been there to the house to dinner once ortwice. Wish I hadn't. "

"Let me give you a little outline of him. Elias M. Is the hard-shell NewEngland type. He was brought up in the fear of God and the Poor-House. God was a good way off, I guess; but there stood the Poor-House on thehill, where you couldn't help but see it. The way of salvation from itwas through the dollar. Elias M. Worked hard for his first dollar, andfor his millionth. He's still working hard. He still finds the fear ofGod useful: he puts it into everybody that goes up against his game. Thefear of the Poor-House is with him yet, though he doesn't realize it. It's the mainspring of his religion. There's nothing so mean as fear;and Elias M. 's fear is back of all his meanness, his despotism inbusiness, his tyranny as an employer. I tell you, Boss, if you ever sawa hellion in a cutaway coat, Elias M. Pierce is it, and you're going tosmell sulphur when he gets here. Better let him do the talking, by theway. "

Prompt to the minute, Elias M. Pierce arrived. With him came WilliamDouglas, his personal counsel. Having risen to greet them, Hal stoodleaning against his desk, after they were seated. The lawyer disposedhimself on the far edge of his chair, as if fearing that a morecomfortable pose might commit him to something. Mr. Pierce sat solid andsquare, a static force neatly buttoned into a creaseless suit. His facewas immobile, but under the heavy lids the eyes smouldered, dully. Thetone of his voice was lifelessly level: yet with an immanent menace. 

"I do not make appointments outside my own office--" he began, lookingstraight ahead of him. 

Mindful of Ellis's advice, Hal stood silent, in an attitude of courteousattention. 

"But this is a case of saving time. My visit has to do with the accidentof which you know. "

Whether or not Hal knew was undeterminable from sign or speech of his. 

"It was wholly the injured woman's fault, " pursued Mr. Pierce, andturned a slow, challenging eye upon Hal. 

Over his shoulder the editor-in-chief caught sight of McGuire Ellislaying finger on lip, and following up this admonition by a gesture ofarms and hands as of one who pays out line to a fish. Douglas fidgetedon his desperate edge. 

"You sent a reporter to interview my daughter. He was impertinent. Heshould be discharged. "

Still Mr. Pierce was firing into silence. Something rattled and floppedin a chute at his elbow. He turned, irritably. That Mr. Pierce'sattention should have been diverted even for a moment by this wassufficient evidence that he was disconcerted by the immobility of thefoe. But his glance quickly reverted and with added weight. Heavily hestared, then delivered his ultimatum. 

"The 'Clarion' will print nothing about the accident. "

The editor of the "Clarion" smiled. At sight of that smile somedemon-artist in faces blocked in with lightning swiftness parallel linesof wrath at right angles to the corners of the Pierce mouth. Through thelips shone a thin glint of white. 

"You find me amusing?" Men had found Elias M. Pierce implacable, formidable, inscrutable, even amenable, in some circumstances, with aconscious and godlike condescension; but no opponent had ever smiled athis commands as this stripling of journalism was doing. 

Still there was no reply. In his chair McGuire Ellis leaned back with anexpression of beatitude. The lawyer, shrewd enough to understand thathis principal was being baited, now took a hand. 

"You may rely on Mr. Pierce to have the woman suitably cared for. "

Now the editorial smile turned upon William Douglas. It was gentle, butunsatisfying. 

"_And_ the reporter will be discharged at once, " continued Elias M. Pierce, exactly as if Douglas had not spoken at all. 

"Mr. Ellis, " said Hal, "will you 'phone Mr. Wayne to send up the man whocovered the Pierce story?"

The summoned reporter entered the room. He was a youth named Denton, oneyear out of college, eager and high-spirited, an enthusiast of hisprofession, loving it for its adventurousness and its sense ofresponsibility and power. These are the qualities that make the realnewspaper man. They die soon, and that is why there are no good, oldreporters. Elias M. Pierce turned upon him like a ponderous machine ofvengeance. 

"What have you to say for yourself?" he demanded. 

Up under Denton's fair skin ran a flush of pink. "Who are you?" heblurted. 

"You are speaking to Mr. Elias M. Pierce, " said Douglas hastily. 

Six weeks before, young Denton would perhaps have moderated his attitudein the interests of his job. But now through the sensitive organism ofthe newspaper office had passed the new vigor; the feeling ofindependence and of the higher responsibility to the facts of the newsonly. The men believed that they would be upheld within their own rightsand those of the paper. Harrington Surtaine's standards had been notonly absorbed: they had been magnified and clarified by minds moreexpert than his own. Subconsciously, Denton felt that his employer wasback of him, must be back of him in any question of professional honor. 

"What I've got to say, I've said in writing. "

"Show it to me. " The insolence of the command was quite unconscious. 

The reporter turned to Hal. 

"Mr. Denton, " said Hal, "did Miss Pierce explain why she didn't returnafter running the nurse down?"

"She said she was in a hurry: that she had a train to catch. "

"Did you ask her if she was exceeding the speed limit?"

"She was not, " interjected Elias M. Pierce. 

"She said she didn't know; that nobody ever paid any attention to speedlaws. "

"What about her license?"

"I asked her and she said it was none of my business. "

"Quite right, " approved Mr. Pierce curtly. 

"Tell the desk to run the interview _verbatim_, under a separate head. Will the nurse die?"

Mr. Pierce snorted contemptuously. "Die! She's hardly hurt. "

"Dislocated shoulder, two ribs broken, and scalp wounds. She'll getwell, " said the reporter. 

"Now, see here, Surtaine, " said Douglas smoothly, "be reasonable. Itwon't do the 'Clarion' any good to print a lot of yellow sensationalismabout this. There are half a dozen witnesses who say it was the nurse'sfault. "

"We have evidence on the other side. "

"From whom?"

"Max Veltman, of our composing-room. "

"Veltman? Veltman?" repeated Elias M. Pierce, who possessed a wonderfulmemory for men and events. "He's that anarchist fellow. Hates every manwith a dollar. Stirred up the labor troubles two years ago. I told mymen to smash his head if they ever caught him within two blocks of ourplace. "

"Speaking of anarchy, " said McGuire Ellis softly. 

"A prejudiced witness; one of your own employees, " pointed out thelawyer. 

"I wouldn't believe him under oath, " said Pierce. 

"Perhaps you wouldn't believe me, either. I saw the whole thing myself, "said Hal quietly. 

"And you intend to print it?" demanded Pierce. 

"It's news. The 'Clarion's' business is to print the news. "

"Then there remains only to warn you, " said Douglas, "that you will beheld to full liability for anything you may publish, civil _and_criminal. "

"Take that down, Mr. Denton, " said Hal. 

"I've got it, " said the reporter. 

"That isn't all. " Elias M. Pierce rose and his eyes were wells of somberfury. "You print that story--one word of it--and I'll smash your paper. "

"Take that down, Mr. Denton. " Hal's voice was even. 

"I've got it, " said Denton in the same tone. 

"You don't know what I am in this city. " Every word of the great man'svoice rang with the ruthless arrogance of his power. "I can make or marany man or any business. I've fought the demagogues of labor and driven'em out of town. I've fought the demagogues of politics and killed themoff. And you think with your little spewing demagoguery of newspaperfilth, you can override me? You think because you've got your father'squack millions behind you, that you can stand up to me?"

"Take that down, Mr. Denton. "

"I've got it. "

"Then take this, too, " cried Elias M. Pierce, losing all control, underthe quiet remorselessness of this goading: "people like my daughter andme aren't at the mercy of scum like you. We've got rights that aren'tresponsible to every little petty law. By God, I've made and unmadejudges in this town: and I'll show you what the law can do before I'mthrough with you. I'll gut your damned paper. "

"Not missing anything, are you, Mr. Denton?"

"I've got it all. "

Throughout, Douglas, with a strained face, had been plucking at hisprincipal's arm. Now Elias M. Pierce turned to him. 

"Go to Judge Ransome, " he said sharply, "and get an injunction againstthe 'Clarion. '"

McGuire Ellis sauntered over. "I wouldn't, " he drawled. 

"I'm not asking your advice. "

"And I'm not looking for gratitude. But just let me suggest this:Ransome may be one of the judges you brag of owning. But if he grants aninjunction I'll advise Mr. Surtaine to publish a spread on the frontpage, stating that we have the facts, that we're enjoined from printingthem at present, but that now or a year from now we'll tell the wholestory in every phase. With that hanging over him, I don't believe JudgeRansome will care to issue any fake injunction. "

"There's such a thing as contempt of court, " warned Douglas. 

"Making and unmaking judges, for example?" suggested Ellis. 

"Just one final word to you. " The Pierce face was thrust close to Hal's. "You keep your hands off my daughter if you expect to live in thistown. "

"My one regret for Miss Pierce is that she is your daughter, " retortedHal. "You have given me the material for a leading editorial into-morrow's issue. I recommend you to buy the paper. "

The other glared at him speechless. 

"It will be called, " said Hal, "'A Study in Heredity. ' Good-day. "

And he gave the retiring magnate a full view of his back as he sat downto write it. 

CHAPTER XVI

THE STRATEGIST

"Never write with a hot pen. " Thus runs one of McGuire Ellis's goldenrules of journalism. Had his employer better comprehended, in thoseearly days, the Ellisonian philosophy, perhaps the "Heredity" editorialmight never have appeared. Now, as it lay before him in proof, it seemedbut the natural expression of a righteous wrath. 

"Neither Kathleen Pierce nor her father can claim exemption orconsideration in this instance, " Hal had written, in what he chose toconsider his most telling passage. "Were it the girl's first offense oftemerity, allowance might be made. But the city streets have long beenthe more perilous because of her defiance of the rights of others. Hereshe runs true to type. She is her father's own daughter. In the light ofhis character and career, of his use of the bludgeon in business, of hisresort to foul means when fair would not serve, of his brutal disregardof human rights in order that his own power might be enhanced, of hisruthless and crushing tyranny, not alone toward his employees, buttoward all labor in its struggle for better conditions, we can butregard the girl who left her victim crushed and senseless in the gutterand sped on because, in the words of her own bravado, she 'had a trainto catch, ' as a striking example of the influence of heredity. If thelaw which she so contemptuously brushed aside is to be aborted by theinfluence and position of her family, the precept will be a bitter anddangerous one. Much arrant nonsense is vented concerning the'class-hatred' stirred up by any criticism of the rich. One suchinstance as the running-down of Miss Cleary bears within it far morethan the extremest demagoguery the potentialities of an unleashed hate. It is a lesson in lawlessness. "

Still in the afterglow of composition, Hal, tinkering lightly with theproofs, felt a hand on his shoulder. 

"Well, Boy-ee, " said the voice of Dr. Surtaine. 

"Hello, father, " returned Hal. "Sit down. What's up?"

"I've just had a message from E. M. Pierce. "

"Did you obey a royal command and go to his office?"

"No. "

"Neither did I. "

"With you it's different. You're a younger man. And Elias M. Pierce isthe most powerful--um--er--well, _as_ powerful as any man inWorthington. "

"Outside of this office, possibly. "

"Don't you be foolish, Boy-ee. You can't fight him. "

"Nor do I want to, " said Hal, a little chilled, nevertheless, by thegravity of the paternal tone. "But when he comes in here and dictateswhat the 'Clarion' shall and shall not print--"

"About his own daughter. "

"News, father. It's news. "

"News is what you print. If you don't print it, it isn't news. Isn'tthat right? Well, then!"

"Not quite. News is what happens. If no paper published this, it wouldbe current by word of mouth just the same. A hundred people saw it. "

"Anyway, tone your article down, won't you, Boy-ee?"

"I'm afraid I can't, Dad. "

"Of course you can. Here, let me see it. "

McGuire Ellis looked up sharply, his face wrinkled into an anxiousquery. It relaxed when Hal handed the editorial proof to the Doctor, saying, "Look at this, instead. "

Dr. Surtaine read slowly and carefully. "Do you know what you're doing?"he said, replacing the strip of paper. 

"I think so. "

"That editorial will line up every important business man in Worthingtonagainst you. "

"I don't see why it should. "

"Because they'll see that none of 'em are safe if a newspaper can dothat sort of thing. It's never been done here. The papers have alwaysrespected men of position, and their business and their families, too. Worthington won't stand for that sort of thing. "

"It's true, isn't it?"

"All the more harm if it is, " retorted Dr. Surtaine, thus codifying thesum and essence of the outsider's creed of journalism. "Do you know whatthey'll call you if you print that? They'll call you an anarchist. "

"Will they?"

"Ask Ellis. "

"Probably, " agreed the journalist. 

"Every friend and business associate of Pierce's will be down on you. "

"The whole angry hive of capital and privilege, " confirmed Ellis. 

"You see, " cried the pleader; "you can't print it. Publishing an articleabout Kathleen Pierce will be bad enough, but it's nothing to what thisother roast would be. One would make Pierce hate you as long as helives. The other will make the whole Business Interests of the city yourenemy. How can you live without business?"

"Business isn't as rotten as that, " averred Hal. "If it is, I'm going tofight it. "

"Fight business!" It was almost a groan. "Tell him, Ellis, what aserious thing this is. You agree with me in that, don't you?"

"Entirely. "

"And that the 'Clarion' can't afford to touch the thing at all? You'rewith me there, too, aren't you?"

"Absolutely not. "

"You're going to stand by and see my boy turn traitor to his class?"

"Damn his class, " said McGuire Ellis, in mild, conversational tones. 

"As much as you like, " agreed the other, "in talk. But when it comes toprint, remember, it's our class that's got the money. "

"Wouldn't it be a refreshing change, " suggested Ellis, "to have onepaper in Worthington that money won't buy?"

"All very well, if you were strong enough. " The wily old charlatanshifted his ground. "Wait until you've built up to it. Then, when you'vegot the public, you can afford to be independent. "

"Get your price and then reform. Is that the idea, Father?" said Hal. 

"Boy-ee, I don't know what's come over you lately. Journalism seems tohave got into your blood. "

"Blame Ellis. He's been my preceptor. "

"Both of you have got your lesson to learn. "

"Well, I've learned one, " asserted Hal: "that it's the business of anewspaper to print the news. "

"There's only one sound business principle, success. When it costs youmore to print a thing than not to print it, it's bad business to printit. "

"I'm sorry, Dad, but the 'Clarion' is going to carry this to-morrow. "

"In case you're nervous about Mr. Pierce, " put in McGuire Ellis withMachiavellian innuendo, "I can pass it on to him that you're in no wayresponsible for the 'Clarion's' policy. "

"Me, afraid of Elias M. Pierce?" Our Leading Citizen's prickly vanitywas up in arms at once. "I'll match him or fight him dollar for dollar, as long as my weasel-skin lasts. No, sir: if Hal's going to fight, I'llstick by him as long as there's a dollar in the till. "

"It's mighty good of you, Dad, and I know you'd do it. But I've made upmy mind to win out or lose out on the capital you gave me. And I won'ttake a cent more. "

"That's business, too, son. I like that. But I hate to see you lose. Bypublishing your editorial you're committing your paper absolutely to apolicy, and a fatal one. Well, I won't argue any more. But I haven'tgiven up yet. "

"Well, that's over, " said Hal, as his father departed, gently smoothingdown his silk hat. "And I hope that ends it. "

"Do you?" McGuire Ellis raised a tuneful baritone in song:--

 'You may think you've got 'em going, ' said the bar-keep to the bum. 'But cheer up And beer up. The worst is yet to come!'

"Unless my estimate of E. M. Pierce is wrong, " he continued, "you'llbegin to hear from the other newspapers soon. "

So it proved. Advertising managers called up and talked interminablyover the telephone. Editors-in-chief wrote polite notes. One fellowproprietor called. By all the canons of editorial courtesy they exhortedMr. Surtaine to hold his hand from the contemplated sacrilege againsttheir friend and patron, Elias M. Pierce. Equally polite, Mr. Surtainereplied that the "Clarion" would print the news. How much of the newswould he print? All the news, now and forever, one and inseparable, orwords to that effect. Painfully and protestingly the noble fellowship ofthe free and untrammeled press pointed out that if the "Clarion"insisted on informing the public, they too, in self-defense, must supplysomething in the way of information to cover themselves, loth thoughthey were so to do. But the burden of sin and vengeance would rest uponthe paper which forced them into such a course. Still patient, Hal foundrefuge in truism: to wit, that what his fellow editors chose to do waswholly and specifically their business. From the corollary, hecourteously refrained. 

Meantime, the object of Editor Surtaine's scathing had not been idle. Tothe indignant journalist, Miss Kathleen Pierce had appeared a brutal andhardened scion of wealth and injustice. This was hardly a just view. Careless she was, and unmindful of standards; but not cruel. In thisinstance, panic, not callousness, had been the mainspring of herapparent cruelty. She was badly scared; and when her angry father toldher what she might expect at the hands of a "yellow newspaper, " shebecame still more badly scared. In this frame of mind she fled forrefuge to Miss Esmé Elliot. 

"I didn't mean to run over her, " she wailed. "You know I didn't, Esmé. She ran out just like a m-m-mouse, and I felt the car hit her, and thenshe was all crumpled up in the gutter. Oh, I was so frightened! I wantedto go back, but I was afraid, and Phil began to cry and say we'd killedher, and I lost my head and put on speed. I didn't mean to, Esmé!"

"Of course you didn't, dear. Who says you did?"

"The newspaper is going to say so. That awful reporter! He caught me atthe station and asked me a lot of questions. I just shook my head andwouldn't say a word, " lied the frightened girl. "But they're going toprint an awful interview with me, father says. He's furious at me. "

"In what paper, Kathie?"

"The 'Clarion. ' Father says the other papers won't publish anythingabout it, but he can't stop the 'Clarion. '"

"I can, " said Miss Esmé Elliot confidently. 

The heiress to the Pierce millions lifted her woe-begone face. "You?"she cried incredulously. "How?"

"I've got a pull, " said Esmé, dimpling. 

A light broke in upon her suppliant. "Of course! Hal Surtaine! Butfather has been to see him and he won't promise a thing. I don't seewhat he's got against me. "

"Don't worry, dear. Perhaps your father doesn't understand how to goabout it. "

"No, " said the other thoughtfully. "Father would try to bully andthreaten. He tried to bully me!" Miss Pierce stamped a well-shod foot inmemory of her manifold wrongs. Then feminine curiosity interposed acheck. "Esmé! Are you engaged to Hal Surtaine?"

"No, indeed!" The girl's laughter rang silvery and true. 

"Are you going to be?"

"I'm not going to be engaged to anybody. Not for a long time, anyway. Life is too good as it is. "

"Is he in love with you?" persisted Kathleen. 

Esmé lifted up a very clear and sweet mezzo-soprano in a mocking lilt ofsong:--

 "How should my heart know What love may be?"

The visitor regarded her admiringly. "Of course he is. What man wouldn'tbe! And you've seen a lot of him lately, haven't you?"

"I'm helping him run his paper--with good advice. "

"Oh-h-h!" Miss Pierce's soft mouth and big eyes formed three circles. "And you're going to advise him--"

"I'm going to advise him ver-ree earnestly not to say a word about youin the paper, if you'll promise never, never to do it again. "

The other clasped her in a bear-hug. "You duck! I'll just crawl throughthe streets after this. You watch me! The police will have to call timeon me to make sure I'm not obstructing the traffic. But, Esmé--"

"Well?"

Kathleen caught her hand and snuggled it up to her childishly. "Howoften do you see Hal Surtaine?"

"You ought to know. There's something going on every evening now. And hegoes everywhere. "

"Yes: but outside of that?"

Esmé laughed. "How hard you're working to make a romance that isn'tthere. I go to his office once in a while, just to see the wheels go'round. "

"And are you going to the office now?"

"No, " said Esmé, after consideration. "Hal Surtaine is coming here. Thisevening. "

"You have an appointment with him?"

"Not yet. I'll telephone him. "

"Father telephoned him, but he wouldn't come to see father. So fatherhad to go to see him. "

"Mahomet! Well, I'm the mountain in this case. Go in peace, my child. "Esmé patted the other's head with an absurd and delightful affectationof maternalism. "And look in the 'Clarion' to-morrow with a clearassurance. You shan't find your name there--unless in the Social Doingscolumn. Good-bye, dear. "

Having thus engaged her honor, the advisor to the editor sat her down toplan. At the conclusion of a period of silent thought, she sent atelephone message which made the heart of young Mr. Surtaine accelerateits pace perceptibly. Was he too busy to come up to Greenvale, Dr. Elliot's place, at 8. 30 sharp?

Busy he certainly was, but not too busy to obey any behest of hispartner. 

That was very nice of him. It would take but a few minutes. 

As many minutes as she could use, she might have, or hours. 

Then he was to consider himself gratefully thanked and profoundlycurtsied to, over the wire. By the way, if he had a galley proof ofanything that had been written about Kathleen Pierce's motor accident, would he bring that along? And didn't he think it quite professional ofher to remember all about galleys and things?

Highly professional and clever (albeit in a somewhat altered tone, notunnoted by the acute listener). Yes, he would bring the proof. At 8. 30, then, sharp. 

"The new boss of our new boss, " Wayne had styled the charminginterloper, on the occasion of her first visit to the "Clarion" office. Had she heard, Esmé would have approved. More, she would have believed, though not without misgivings. Well she knew that she had not yet provedher power over her partner. Many and various as were the men upon whom, in the assay of her golden charm, she had exercised the arts ofcoquetry, this test was on a larger scale. This was the potentialconquest of an institution. Could she make a newspaper change its hue, as she could make men change color, with the power of a word or theincitement of a glance? The very dubiety of the issue gave a new zest tothe game. 

Behold, now, Miss Esmé Elliot, snarer of men's eyes and hearts, sharpening her wits and weapons for the fray; aye, even preparing herpitfall. Cunningly she made a bower of one end of the broad living-roomat Greenvale with great sprays of apple blossoms from the orchard, ravishing untold spoilage of her mother and forerunner, Eve, for thebedecking of the quiet, cozy nook. Pink was ever her color; the hue ofthe flushing of spring, of the rising blood in the cheek of maidenhood, and the tenderest of the fruit-blooms was not more downy-soft of tintthan the face it bent to brush. At the close of the task, a heavy voicestartled her. 

"What's all this about?"

"Uncle Guardy! You mustn't, you really mustn't come in on tiptoe thatway. "

"Stamped like an elephant, " asserted Dr. Elliot. "But you were soimmersed in your floral designs--What kind of a play is it?"

She turned upon him the sparkle of golden lights in wine-brown eyes. "It's a fairy bower. I'm going to do a bewitchment. "

"Upon what victim?"

"Upon a newspaper. I'm going to be a fairy godmother sort of witch andsave my foster-child by--by arointing something out of print. "

"Doing _what_?"

"Arointing it. Don't you know, you say, 'Aroint thee, witch, ' when youwant to get rid of her? Well, if a witch can be arointed, why shouldn'tshe aroint other things?"

"All very well, if you understand the process. Do you?"

"Of course. It's done 'with woven paces and with waving arms. ' 'Beware, beware; her flashing eyes, her float--'"

"Stop it! You shall not make a poetry cocktail out of Tennyson andColeridge, and jam it down my throat; or I'll aroint myself. Besides, you're not a witch, at all. I know you for all your big cap, and yourcloak, and the basket on your arm. 'Grandmother, what makes your teethso white?'"

"No, no. I'm not that kind of a beastie, at all. Wrong guess, Guardy. "

"Yet there's a gleam of the hunt about you. Is it, oh, is it, the GreatAmerican Pumess that I have the honor to address?"

She made him a sweeping bow. "In a good cause. "

"About which I shall doubtless hear to-morrow?"

"Don't I always confess my good actions?"

"At what hour does the victim's dying shriek rend the quivering air?"

"Mr. Surtaine is due here at half past eight. "

"Humph! Young Surtaine, eh? Shy bird, if it has taken all this time tobring him down. Well, run and dress. It's after five and that gives youless than three hours for prinking up, counting dinner in. "

Whatever time and effort may have gone to the making of the GreatAmerican Pumess's toilet, Hal thought, as he came down the long room towhere she stood embowered in pink, that he had never beheld anything sofreshly lovely. She gave him a warm and yielding hand in welcome, anddrew away a bit, surveying him up and down with friendly eyes. 

"You're looking unusually smart to-night, " she approved. "London clothesdon't set so well on many Americans. But your tie is askew. Wait. Let medo it. "

With deft fingers she twitched and patted the bow into submission. Thetouch of intimacy represented the key in which she had chosen to pitchher play. Sinking back into a cushioned corner of the settee, she curledup cozily, and motioned him to a chair. 

"Draw it around, " she directed. "I want you where you can't get away, for I'm going to cast a spell over you. "

"_Going_ to?" The accent on the first word was stronger than the replynecessitated. 

"Do many people ask favors of an editor?"

"More than enough. "

"And is the editor often kind and obliging?"

"That depends on the favor. "

"Not a little bit on the asker?"

"Naturally, that, too. "

"Your tone isn't very encouraging. " She searched his face with herlimpid, lingering regard. "Did you bring the proofs?"

"Yes. "

Still holding his eyes to hers, she stretched out her hand to receivethe strip of print, "Do you think I'd better read it?"

"No. "

"Then I will. "

Studying her face, as she read, Hal saw it change from gay to grave, sawher quiver and wince with a swiftly indrawn breath, and straightened hisspine to what he knew was coming. 

"Oh, it's cruel, " she said in a low tone, letting the paper fall on herknee. 

"It's true, " said Hal. 

"Oh, no! Even if it were, it ought not to be published. "

"Why?"

"Because--" The girl hesitated. 

"Because she's one of us?"

"No. Yes. It has something to do with my feeling, I suppose. Why, you'vebeen a guest at her house. "

"Suppose I have. The 'Clarion' hasn't. "

"Isn't that rather a fine distinction?"

"On the contrary. Personally, I might refrain from saying anything aboutit. Journalistically, how can I? It's the business of the 'Clarion' togive the news. More than that: it's the honor of the 'Clarion. '"

"But what possible good will it do?"

"If it did no other good, it would warn other reckless drivers. "

"Let the police look to that. It's their business. "

"You know that the police dare do nothing to the daughter of Elias M. Pierce. See here, Partner, "--Hal's tone grew gentle, --"don't you recall, in that long talk we had about the paper, one afternoon, how you backedme up when I told you what I meant to do in the way of making the'Clarion' honest and clean and strong enough to be straight in itsattitude toward the public? Why, you've been the inspiration of all thatI've been trying to do. I thought that was the true Esmé. Wasn't it? WasI wrong? You're not going back on me, now?"

"But she's so young, " pleaded Esmé, shifting her ground before thisattack. "She doesn't think. She's never had to think. Your article makesher look a--a murderess. It isn't fair. It isn't true, really. If youcould have seen her here, so frightened, so broken. She cried in myarms. I told her it shouldn't be printed. I promised. "

Here was the Great American Pumess at bay, and suddenly splendid in herattitude of protectiveness. In that moment, she had all but broken Hal'sresolution. He rose and walked over to the window, to clear his thoughtof the overpowering appeal of her loveliness. 

"How can I--" he began, coming back: but paused because she was holdingout to him the proof. Across it, in pencil, was written, "Must not, " andthe initials, E. S. M. E. 

"Kill it, " she urged softly. 

"And my honesty with it. "

"Oh, no. It can't be so fatal, to be kind for once. Let her off, poorchild. "

Hal stood irresolute. 

"If it were I?" she insisted softly. 

"If it were you, would you ask it?"

"I shouldn't have to. I'd trust you. "

The sweetness of it shook him. But he still spoke steadily. 

"Others trust me, now. The men in the office. Trust me to be honest. "

Again she felt the solid wall of character blocking her design, andwithin herself raged and marveled, and more deeply, admired. Resentmentwas uppermost, however. Find a way through that barrier she must andwould. Whatever scruples may have been aroused by his appeal to her shebanished. No integer of the impressionable sex had ever yet won from hersuch a battle. None ever should: and assuredly not this one. The GreatAmerican Pumess was now all feline. 

She leaned forward to him. "You promised. "

"I?"

"Have you forgotten?"

"I have never forgotten one word that has passed between us since Ifirst saw you. "

"Ah; but when was that?"

"Seven weeks ago to-day, at the station. "

[Illustration: "KILL IT, " SHE URGED SOFTLY. ]

"Fifteen years ago this summer, " she corrected. "You _have_ forgotten, "She laughed gayly at the amazement in his face. "And the promise. " Upwent a pink-tipped finger in admonition. "Listen and be ashamed, Ofaithless knight. 'Little girl, little girl: I'd do anything in theworld for you, little girl. Anything in the world, if ever you askedme. ' Think, and remember. Have you a scar on your left shoulder?"

The effort of recollection dimmed Hal's face. "Wait! I'm beginning tosee. The light of the torches across the square, and the man with theknife. --Then darkness. --was unconscious, wasn't I?--Then the fairy childwith the soft eyes, looking down at me. Little girl, little girl, it wasyou! That is why I seemed to remember, that day at the station, before Iknew you. "

"Yes, " she said, smiling up at him. 

"How wonderful! And you remembered. How more than wonderful!"

"Yes, I remembered. " It was no part of her plan--quite relentless, now--to tell him that her uncle had recounted to her the events of thatfar-distant night, and that she had been holding them in reserve forsome hitherto undetermined purpose of coquetry. So she spoke the liewithout a tremor. What he would say next, she almost knew. Nor did hedisappoint her expectation. 

"And so you've come back into my life after all these years!"

"You haven't taken back your proof. " She slipped it into his hand. "Whathave you done with my subscription-flower?"

"The arbutus? It stands always on my desk. "

"Do you see the rest of it anywhere?"

Her eyes rested on a tiny vase set in a hanging window-box of flowers, and holding a brown and withered wisp. "I tend those flowers myself, "she continued. "And I leave the dead arbutus there to remind me of theresponsibilities of journalism--and of the hold I have over theincorruptible editor. "

"Does it weigh upon you?" He answered the tender laughter in her eyes. 

"Only the uncertainty of it. "

"Do you realize how strong it is, Esmé?"

"Not so strong, apparently, as certain foolish scruples. " A soft colorrose in her face, as she half-buried it in a great mass of appleblossom. From the mass she chose a spray, and set it in the bosom of herdress, then got to her feet and moved slowly toward him. "You're notwearing my colors to-night. " This was directed to the white rose in hisbuttonhole. He took it out and tossed it into the fireplace. 

"Pink's the only wear, " declared the girl gayly. With delicate fingersshe detached a little luxuriant twig of the bloom from her breast, andset it in the place where the rose had been. Her face was close to his. He could feel her hands above his heart. 

"Please, " she breathed. 

"What?" He was playing for time and reason. 

"For Kathleen Pierce. Please. "

His hand closed over hers. "You are bribing me. "

If she said it again, she knew that he would kiss her. So she spoke, with lifted face and eyes of uttermost supplication. "For me. Please. "

Men had kissed Esmé Elliot before; for she had played every turn of thegame of coquetry. Some she had laughed to scorn and dismissed; some shehad sweetly rebuked, and held to their adoring fealty. She had known thekiss of headlong passion, of love's humility, of desperation, even ofhot anger; but none had ever visited her lips twice. The game, for her, was ended with the surrender and the avowal; and she protected herselfthe more easily in that her pulses had never been stirred to more thanthe thrill of triumph. 

In Hal Surtaine's arms she was playing for another stake. So intent hadshe been upon her purpose that the guerdon of the modern Venus Victrix, the declaration of the lover, was held in the background of her mind. For a swift, bewildering moment, she felt his lips upon hers, thegentlest, the tenderest pressure, instantly relaxed: then the suddenknowledge of him for what he was, a loyal and chivalrous gentleman thusbeguiled, burned her with a withering and intolerable shame. Simultaneously she felt her heart go out to him as never yet had it goneto any man, and in that secret shock to her maidenhood, the coquette inher waned and the woman waxed. 

She drew back, quivering, aghast. With all the force of this new andtumultuous emotion, she hoped for her own defeat: yearned over him thathe should refuse that for which she had unworthily pressed. Yet, such isthe perversity of that strange struggle against the great surrender, that she gathered every power of her sex to gain the dreaded victory. Byan effort she commanded her voice, releasing herself from his arms. 

"Wait. Don't speak to me for a minute, " she said hoarsely. 

"But I must speak, now, --dear, dearest. "

"Am--am I that to you?" The feline in her caught desperately at theopportunity. 

"Always. From the first. "

"But--you forgot. "

"Let me atone with the rest of my life for that treason. " He laughedhappily. 

"You keep your promise, then, to the little girl?" At her feet lay thegalley proof. Birdlike she darted down upon it, seized, and tore it halfacross. "No: you do it, " she commanded, thrusting it into his hand. 

No longer was he master of himself. The kiss had undermined him. "MustI?" he said. 

Victorious and aghast, she yet smiled into his face. "I knew I couldbelieve in you, " she cried. "You're a true knight, after all. I declareyou my Knight-Editor. No well-equipped journalistic partnership shouldbe without one. "

Perhaps had the phrase been different, Hal might have yielded. Sonarrow a margin of chance divides the paths of honor and dishonor, tomortals groping dimly through the human maze. But the words were an echoto wake memory. Rugged, harsh, and fine the face of McGuire Ellis rosebefore Hal. He heard the rough voice, with its undertone of affectionbeneath the jocularity of the rather feeble pun, and it called him backlike a trumpet summons to the loyalty which he had promised to the menof the "Clarion. " He slipped the half-torn paper into his pocket. 

"I can't do it, Esmé. "

"You--can't--do--it?"

"No. " Finality was in the monosyllable. 

She looked into his leveled and quiet eyes, and knew that she had lost. And the demon of perversity, raging, stung her to its purposes. 

"After this, you tell me that you can't, you won't?"

"Dearest! You're not going to let it make a difference in our love foreach other. "

"_Our_ love! You go far, and fast. "

"Do I go too far, since you have let me kiss you?"

"I didn't, " she cried. 

"Then you meant nothing by it?"

She shrugged her shoulders. "You are trying to take advantage of aposition which you forced, " she said coldly. 

"Let me understand this clearly. " He had turned white. "You let me makelove to you, in order to entrap me and save your friend. Is that it?"

No reply came from her other than what he could read in compressed lipsand smouldering eyes. 

"So that is the kind of woman you are. " There were both wonder anddistress in his voice. "That is the kind of woman for whose promise tobe my wife I would have given the heart out of my body. "

At this the tumult and catastrophe of her emotion fused into a whitehot, illogical anger against this man who was suffering, and by hissuffering made her suffer. 

"Your wife? Yours?" She smiled hatefully. "The wife of the son of aquack? You do yourself too much honor, Hal Surtaine. "

"I fear that I did you too much honor, " he replied quietly. 

Suffocation pressed upon her throat as she saw him go to the door. For amoment the wild desire to hold him, to justify herself, to explain, evento ask forgiveness, seized her. Bitterly she fought it down, and sostood, with wide eyes and smiling lips. At the door he turned to look, with a glance less of appeal than of incredulity that she, so lovely, soalluring, so desirable beyond all the world, a creature of springtimeand promise embowered amidst the springtime and promise of theapple-bloom, could be such as her speech and action proclaimed her. 

Hal carried from her house, like a barbed arrow, the memory of thatstill and desperate smile. 

CHAPTER XVII

REPRISALS

Working on an empty heart is almost as severe a strain as the lesspoetic process of working on an empty stomach. On the morning after thefailure of Esmé's strategy and the wrecking of Hal's hopes, the youngeditor went to his office with a languid but bitter distaste for itsdemands. The first item in the late afternoon mail stung him to a fitterspirit, as a sharp blow will spur to his best efforts a courageousboxer. This was a packet, containing the crumbled fragments of a sprayof arbutus, and a note in handwriting now stirringly familiar. 

 I have read your editorial. From a man dishonest enough to print deliberate lies and cowardly enough to attack a woman, it is just such an answer as I might have expected. 

 ELEANOR S. M. ELLIOT. 

At first the reference to the editorial bewildered Hal. Then heremembered. Esmé had known nothing of the editorial until she read it inthe paper. She had inferred that he wrote it after leaving her, thusrevenging himself upon her by further scarification of the friend forwhom she had pleaded. To the charge of deliberate mendacity he had nospecific clue, not knowing that Kathleen Pierce had denied theauthenticity of the interview. He mused somberly upon the venomedinjustice of womankind. The note and its symbol of withered sweetness heburied in his waste-basket. If he could but discard as readily thevision of a face, strangely lovely in its anger and chagrin, and wearingthat set and desperate smile! Well, there was but one answer to hernote. That was to make the "Clarion" all that she would have it not be!

No phantoms of lost loveliness came between McGuire Ellis and hissatisfaction over the Pierce _coup_. Characteristically, however, hepresented the disadvantageous as well as the favorable aspects of thematter to his employer. 

"Some paper this morning!" he began. "The town is humming like a hive. "

"Over the Pierce story?" asked Hal. 

"Nothing else talked of. We were sold out before nine this morning. "

"Selling papers is our line of business, " observed the owner-editor. 

"You won't think so when you hear Shad Shearson. He's an avalanche ofwoe, waiting to sweep down upon you. "

"What's his trouble? The department store advertising?"

"The Boston Store advertising is gone. Others are threatening to follow. Pierce has called a meeting of the Publications Committee of the DryGoods Union. Discipline is in the air, Boss. Have you seen the eveningpapers?"

"Yes. "

"What did you think of their stories of the accident?"

"I seemed to notice a suspicious similarity. "

"You can bet every one of those stories came straight from E. M. Pierce'sown office. You'll see, they'll be the same in to-morrow morning'spapers. Now that we've opened up, they all have to cover the news, sothey've thoughtfully sent around to inquire what Elias M. Would like tohave printed. "

"From what they say, " remarked Hal flippantly, "the nurse ought to bearrested for trying to bump a sixty-horsepower car out of the roadway. "

"We strive to please, in the local newspaper shops. "

Ellis turned to answer the buzzing telephone. "Get on your lifepreserver, " he advised his principal. "Shearson's coming up to weep allover you. "

The advertising manager entered, his plump cheeks sagging intolugubrious and reproachful lines, speaking witnesses to a sentiment notwholly unjustifiable in his case. To see circulation steadily going upand advertising as steadily going down, is an irritant experience to theofficial responsible for the main income of a daily paper, advertisingrevenue. 

"Advertisers have some rights, " he boomed, in his heavy voice. 

"Including that of homicide?" asked Hal. 

"Let the law take care of that. It ain't our affair. "

"Would it be our affair if Pierce didn't control advertising?"

Shearson's fat hands went to his fat neck in a gesture of desperation. "That's different, " he cried. "I can't seem to make you see my point. Why looka here, Mr. Surtaine. Who pays for the running of a newspaper?The advertisers. Where do your profits come from? Advertising. Therenever was a paper could last six months on circulation alone. It's theads. That keep every paper going. Well, then: how's a paper going tolive that turns against its own support? Tell me that. If you wererunning a business, and a big buyer came in, would you roast him andknock his methods, and criticize his family, and then expect to sell hima bill of goods? Or would you take him out to the theater and feed him afat cigar, and treat him the best you know how? You might have your ownprivate opinion of him--"

"A newspaper doesn't deal in private opinions, " put in Hal. 

"Well, it can keep 'em private for its own good, can't it? How manyreaders care whether E. M. Pierce's daughter ran over a woman or not?What difference does it make to them? They'd be just as well satisfiedto read about the latest kick-up in Mexico, or the scandal atWashington, or Mrs. Whoopdoodle's Newport dinner to the troupe ofeducated fleas. But it makes a lot of difference to E. M. Pierce, and hecan make it a lot of difference to us. So long as he pays us good money, he's got a right to expect us to look out for his interests. "

"So have our readers who pay us good money, Mr. Shearson. "

"What are their interests?" asked the advertising manager, staring. 

"To get the news straight. You've given me your theory of journalism;now let me give you mine. As I look at it, there's a contract of honorbetween a newspaper and its subscribers. Tacitly the newspaper says tothe subscriber, 'For two cents a day, I agree to furnish you with thenews of your town, state, nation, and the outside world, selected to thebest of my ability, and presented without fear or favor. ' On this basis, if the newspaper fakes its news, if it distorts facts, or if itsuppresses them, it is playing false with its subscribers. It is sandingits sugar, and selling shoddy for all-wool. Isn't that true?"

"Every newspaper does it, " grumbled Shearson. "And the public knows it. "

"Doubted. The public knows that newspapers make mistakes and do a lot ofexaggerating and sensationalizing. But you once get it into their headsthat a certain newspaper is concealing and suppressing news, and see howlong that paper will last. The circulation will drop and the very menlike Pierce will be the first to withdraw their advertising patronage. Your keen advertiser doesn't waste time fishing in dead pools. So evenas a matter of policy the straight way may be the best, in the long run. Whether it is or not, get this firmly into your mind, Mr. Shearson. Fromnow on the first consideration of the 'Clarion' will be news and notadvertising. "

"Then, good-_night_ 'Clarion, '" pronounced Shearson with entiresolemnity. 

"Is that your resignation, Mr. Shearson?"

"Do you want me to quit?"

"No; I don't. I believe you're an efficient man, if you can adjustyourself to new conditions. Do you think you can?"

"Well, I ain't much on the high-brow stuff, Mr. Surtaine, but I can takeorders, I guess. I'm used to the old 'Clarion, ' and I kinda like you, even if we don't agree. Maybe this virtuous jag'll get us some businessfor what it loses us. But, say, Mr. Surtaine, you ain't going to getvirtuous in your advertising columns, too, are you?"

"I hadn't considered it, " said Hal. "One of these days I'll look intoit. "

"For God's sake, don't!" pleaded Shearson, with such a shaken flabbinessof vehemence that both Hal and Ellis laughed, though the former felt anuneasy puzzlement. 

The article and editorial on the Pierce accident had appeared in aThursday's "Clarion. " In their issues of the following day, the othermorning papers dealt with the subject most delicately. The "Banner"published, without obvious occasion, a long and rather fulsome editorialon E. M. Pierce as a model of high-minded commercial emprise and anexemplar for youth: also, on the same page in its "Pointed Paragraphs, "the following, with a point quite too palpably aimed:--

"It is said, on plausible if not direct authority, that one of ourmorning contemporaries will appropriately alter its motto to read, 'WithMalice toward All: with Charity for None. '"

But it remained for that evening's "Telegram" to bring up the heavyguns. From its first edition these headlines stood out, black andbold:--

 E. M. PIERCE DEFENDS DAUGHTER

 * * * * *

 MAGNATE INCENSED AT UNJUST ATTACKS WILL PUSH CASE AGAINST HER TRADUCERS TO A FINISH

There followed an interview in which the great man announced hisintention of bringing both civil and criminal action for libel againstthe "Clarion. " McGuire Ellis frowned savagely at the sheet. 

"Dirty skunk!" he growled. 

"Meaning our friend Pierce?" queried Hal. 

"No. Meaning Parker, and the whole 'Telegram' outfit. "

"Why?"

"Because they printed that interview. "

"What's wrong with it? It's news. "

"Don't be positively infantile, Boss. Newspapers don't print libelactions brought against other newspapers. It's unprofessional. It'sunethical. It isn't straight. "

"No: I don't see that at all, " decided Hal, after some consideration. "That amounts simply to this, that the newspapers are in a combinationto discourage libel actions, by suppressing all mention of them. "

"Certainly. Why not? Libel suits are generally holdups. "

"I think the 'Telegram' is right. Whatever Pierce says is news, andinteresting news. "

"You bet Parker would never have carried that if his holding corporationwasn't a heavy borrower in the Pierce banks. "

"Maybe not. But I think we'll carry it. "

"In the 'Clarion'?" almost shouted Ellis. 

"Certainly. Let's have Wayne send a reporter around to Pierce. IfPierce won't give us an interview, we'll reprint the 'Telegram's, ' withcredit. "

"We'd be cutting our own throats, and playing Pierce's game. Besides, stuff about ourselves isn't news. "

Hal's inexperience had this virtue, that it was free of the besettingand prejudicial superstitions of the craft of print. "If it'sinteresting, it's the 'Clarion' kind of news. "

Ellis, about to protest further, met the younger man's level gaze, andswallowed hard. 

"All right, " he said. "I'll tell Wayne. "

So the "Clarion" violated another tradition of newspaperdom, to theamused contempt of its rivals, who were, however, possibly not quite soamused or so contemptuous as they appeared editorially to be. Also itfollowed up the interview with an explicit statement of its ownintentions in the matter, which were not precisely music to the savagebreast of E. M. Pierce. 

Evidences of that formidable person's hostilities became increasinglymanifest from day to day. One morning a fire marshal dropped casually inupon the "Clarion" office, looked the premises over, and called theowner's attention to several minor and unsuspected violations of thelaw, the adjustment of which would involve no small inconvenience andseveral hundred dollars outlay. By a curious coincidence, later in theday, a factory inspector happened around, --a newspaper office being, legally, within the definition of a factory, --and served a summons onMcGuire Ellis as publisher, for permitting smoking in the city room. From time immemorial every edition of every newspaper in the UnitedStates of America has evolved out of rolling clouds of tobacco smoke:but the "Clarion" alone, apparently, had come within the purview of thelaw. Subsequently, Hal learned, to his amusement, that all the othernewspaper offices were placarded with notices of the law in Yiddish, sothat none might be unduly disturbed thereby! To give point to thediscrimination, down on the street, a zealous policeman arrested one ofthe "Clarion's" bulk-paper handlers for obstructing the sidewalk. 

"Pierce's political pull is certainly working, " observed Ellis, "butit's coarse work. "

Finer was to come. Two libel suits mushroomed into view in as many days, provoked, as it were, out of conscious nothing; unimportant butharassing: one, brought by a ne'er-do-well who had broken a leg whileengaged in a drunken prank months before, the other the outcome of aparagraph on a little, semi-fraudulent charity. 

"I'll bet that eminent legal light, Mr. William Douglas, could tellsomething about these, " said Ellis, "though his name doesn't appeal onthe papers. "

"We'll print these, too, --and we'll tell the reason for them, " said Hal. 

But on this last point his assistant dissuaded him. The efficientargument was that it would look like whining, and the one thing which anewspaper must not do was to lament its own ill-treatment. 

On top of the libel suits came a letter from the Midland National Bank, stating with perfect courtesy that, under its present organization, acomplicated account like that of the "Clarion" was inconvenient tohandle; wherefore the bank was reluctantly obliged to request itswithdrawal. 

"Bottling us up financially, " remarked Ellis. "I expected this, before. "

"There are other banks than the Midland that'll be glad of ourbusiness, " replied Hal. 

"Probably not. "

"No? Then they're curious institutions. "

"There isn't one of 'em in which Elias M. Pierce isn't a controllingfactor. Ask your father. "

On the following day when Dr. Surtaine, who had been out of town forseveral days, dropped in at the office, Hal had a memorandum ready onthe point. The old quack eased himself into a chair with his fine airof ample leisure, creating for himself a fragrant halo of cigar smoke. 

"Well, Boyee. " The tone was a mingling of warm affection andsemi-humorous reproach. "You went and did it to Elias M. , didn't you?"

"Yes, sir. We went and did it. "

The Doctor shook his head, looking at the other through narrowing eyes. "And it's worrying you. You're not looking right. "

"Oh, I'm well enough: a little sleeplessness, that's all. "

He did not deem it necessary to tell his father that upon his whitenights the unforgettable face of Esmé Elliot had gleamed persistentlyfrom out the darkness, banishing rest. 

"Suppose you let me do some of the worrying, Boyee. "

"Haven't you enough troubles in your own business, Dad?" smiled Hal. 

"Machinery, son. Automatic, at that. Runs itself and turns out thedollars, regular, for breakfast. Very different from the newspapergame. "

"I _should_ like your advice. "

"On the take-it-or-leave-it principle, I suppose, " answered Dr. Surtaine, with entire good humor. "In the Pierce matter you left it. Howdo you like the results?"

"Not very much. "

Dr. Surtaine spread out upturned hands, in dumb, oracular illustrationof his own sagacity. 

"But I'd do the same thing over again if it came up for decision. "

"That's exactly what you mustn't do, Hal. Banging around the shop likethat, cracking people on the knuckles may give you a temporary feelingof power and importance" (Hal flushed boyishly), "but it don't pay. Now, if I get you out of this scrape, I want you to go more carefully. "

"How are you going to get me out of it?"

"Square it with E. M. Pierce. He's a good friend of mine. "

"Do you really like Mr. Pierce, Dad?"

"Hm! Ah--er--well, Boyee, as for that, that's another tail on a cat. Ina business way, I meant. "

"In a business way he's trying to be a pretty efficient enemy of mine. How would you like it if he undertook to interfere with Certina?"

By perceptible inches Dr. Surtaine's chest rounded in slow expansion. "Legislatures and government bureaus have tried that. They never gotaway with it yet. Elias Pierce is a pretty big man in this town, but Iguess he knows enough to keep hands and tongue off me. "

"If not off your line of business, " amended Ellis. "Did you see hisinterview in the 'Telegram'?"

He tossed over a copy of the paper folded to a column wherein Mr. Pierce, with more temper than tact, had possessed himself of hisadversary's editorial text, "Heredity, " and proceeded to perform avariant thereon. 

"If this young whippersnapper, " Mr. Pierce had said, "this fledglingthug of journalism, had stopped to think of the source of his unearnedmoney, perhaps he wouldn't talk so glibly about heredity. "

Thence the interview pursued a course of indirect reflection upon thematter and method of the patent medicine trade, as exemplified inCertina and its allied industries. The top button of Dr. Surtaine'sglossy morning coat, as he read, seemed in danger of flying off intoinfinite space. His powerful hands opened and closed slowly. Leaningforward he reached for the telephone, but checked himself. 

"Mr. Pierce seems to have let go both barrels at once, " he said with astrong effort of control. 

"Pretty little exhibition of temper, isn't it?" said Hal, smiling. 

"Temper's expensive. Perhaps we'll teach Elias M. Pierce that lessonbefore we're through. You remember it, too, next time you start in on amuckraking jag. "

"Our muckraking, as you call it, isn't a question of temper, Dad, " saidHal earnestly. "It's a question of policy. What the 'Clarion' is doing, is done because we're trying to be a newspaper. We've got to stick tothat. I've given my word. "

"Who to?"

"To the men on the staff. "

"What's more, " put in McGuire Ellis, turning at the door on his way outto see a caller, "the fellows have got hold of the idea. That's whatgives the 'Clarion' the go it's got. We're all rowing one stroke. "

"And the captain can't very well quit in mid-race. " Hal took up theother's metaphor, as the door closed behind him. "So you see, Dad, I'vegot to see it through, no matter what it costs me. "

The father's rich voice dropped to a murmur. "Hasn't it cost yousomething more than money, already, Boyee? I understand Miss Esmé is apretty warm friend of Pierce's girl. "

Hal winced. 

"All right, Boyee. I don't want to pry. But lots of things come quietlyto the old man's ear. You've got a right to your secrets. "

"It isn't any secret, Dad. In fact, it isn't anything any more, " saidHal, smiling wanly. "Yes, the price was pretty high. I don't think anyother will ever be so high. "

Dr. Surtaine heaved his bulk out of the chair and laid a heavy armacross his son's shoulder. 

"Boyee, you and I don't agree on a lot of things. We're going to keep onnot agreeing about a lot of things. You think I'm an old fogy withlow-brow standards. I think you've got a touch of that prevalent diseaseof youth, fool-in-the-head. But, I guess, as father and son, pal andpal, we're pretty well suited, --eh?"

"Yes, " said Hal. There was that in the monosyllable which whollycontented the older man. 

"Go ahead with your 'Clarion, ' Boyee. Blow your fool head off. Deave usall deaf. Play any tune you want, and pay yourself for your piping. Iwon't interfere--any more'n I can help, being an old meddler by taste. Blood's thicker than water, they say. I guess it's thicker thanprinter's ink, too. Remember this, right or wrong, win or lose, Boyee, I'm with you. "

CHAPTER XVIII

MILLY

All Hal's days now seemed filled with Pierce. Pierce's friends, dependents, employees, associates wrote in, denouncing the "Clarion, "canceling subscriptions, withdrawing advertisements. Pierce's club, theHuron, compelled the abandonment of Mr. Harrington Surtaine's candidacy. Pierce's clergyman bewailed the low and vindictive tone of modernjournalism. The Pierce newspapers kept harassing the "Clarion"; thePierce banks evinced their financial disapproval; the Pierce lawyersdiligently sought new causes of offense against the foe; while Pierce'smayor persecuted the newspaper office with further petty enforcementsand exactions. Pierce's daughter, however, fled the town. With her wentMiss Esmé Elliot. According to the society columns, including that ofthe "Clarion, " they were bound for a restful voyage on the Pierce yacht. 

From time to time Editor Surtaine retaliated upon the foe, employing thenews of the slow progress of Miss Cleary, the nurse, to maintaininterest in the topic. Protests invariably followed, sometimes fromsources which puzzled the "Clarion. " One of the protestants was HughMerritt, the young health officer of the city, who expressed his viewsto McGuire Ellis one day. 

"No, " Ellis reported to his employer, on the interview, "he didn'texactly ask that we let up entirely. But he seemed to think we weregoing too strong. I couldn't quite get his reasons, except that hethought it was a terrible thing for the Pierce girl, and she so young. Queer thing from Merritt. They don't make 'em any straighter than heis. "

Alone of the lot of protests, that of Mrs. Festus Willard gained aresponse from Hal. 

"You're treating her very harshly, Hal. "

"We're giving the facts, Lady Jinny. "

"_Are_ they the facts? _All_ the facts?"

"So far as human eyes could see them. "

"Men's eyes don't see very far where a woman is concerned. She's veryyoung and headstrong, and, Hal, she hasn't had much chance, you know. She's Elias Pierce's daughter. "

"Thus having every chance, one would suppose. "

"Every chance of having everything. Very little chance of beinganything. "

There was a pause. Then: "Very well, Hal, I know I can trust you to dowhat you believe right, at least. That's a good deal. Festus tells me tolet you alone. He says that you must fight your own fight in your ownway. That's the whole principle of salvation in Festus's creed. "

"Not a bad one, " said Hal. "I'm not particularly liking to do this, youknow, Lady Jinny. "

"So I can understand. Have you heard anything from Esmé Elliot since sheleft?"

"No. "

"You mustn't drop out of the set, Hal, " said the little woman anxiously. "You've made good so quickly. And our crowd doesn't take up with thefirst comer, you know. "

Since Esmé Elliot had passed out of his life, as he told himself, Halfound no incentive to social amusements. Hence he scarcely noticed aslow but widening ostracism which shut him out from house after house, under the pressure of the Pierce influence. But Mrs. Festus Willard hadperceived and resented it. That any one for whom she had stood sponsorshould fail socially in Worthington was both irritating and incredibleto her. Hence she made more of Hal than she might otherwise have foundtime to do, and he was much with her and Festus Willard, deriving, onthe one hand, recreation and amusement from her sparkling_camaraderie_, and on the other, support and encouragement from herhusband's strong, outspoken, and ruggedly honest common sense. Neitherof them fully approved of his attack on Kathleen Pierce, whom theyunderstood better than he did. But they both--and more particularlyFestus Willard--appreciated the courage and honor of the "Clarion's" newstandards. 

Except for an occasional dinner at their house, and a more frequent hourlate in the afternoon or early in the evening, with one or both of them, Hal saw almost nothing of the people into whose social environment hehad so readily slipped. Because of his exclusion, there prospered themore naturally a casual but swiftly developing intimacy which had sprungup between himself and Milly Neal. 

It began with her coming to Hal for his counsel about her copy. From thefirst she assumed an attitude of unquestioning confidence in his wisdomand taste. This flattered the pedagogue which is inherent in all of us. He was wise enough to see promptly that he must be delicately careful inhis criticism, since here he was dealing out not opinion, but gospel. Poised and self-confident the girl was in her attitude toward herself:the natural consequence of early success and responsibility. But abouther writing she exhibited an almost morbid timidity lest it be thought"vulgar" or "common" by the editor-in-chief; and once McGuire Ellis feltcalled upon to warn Hal that he was "taking all the gimp out of the'Kitty the Cutie' stuff by trying to sewing-circularize it. " Ofliterature the girl knew scarcely anything; but she had an eagerambition for better standards, and one day asked Hal to advise her inher reading. 

Not without misgivings he tried her with Stevenson's "VirginibusPuerisque" and was delighted with the swiftness and eagerness of herappreciation. Then he introduced her by careful selection to the poets, beginning with Tennyson, through Wordsworth, to Browning, and thence tothe golden-voiced singers of the sonnet, and all of it she drank in witha wistful and wondering delight. Soon her visits came to be of almostdaily occurrence. She would dart in of an evening, to claim or return abook, and sit perched on the corner of the big work-table, like alittle, flashing, friendly bird; always exquisitely neat, always vividlypretty and vividly alive. Sometimes the talk wandered from the status ofinstructor and instructed, and touched upon the progress of the"Clarion, " the view which Milly's little world took of it, possible waysof making it more interesting to the women readers to whom the "Cutie"column was supposed to cater particularly. More than once the morepersonal note was touched, and the girl spoke of her coming to theCertina factory, a raw slip of a country creature tied up in calico, andof Dr. Surtaine's kindness and watchfulness over her. 

"He wanted to do well by me because of the old man--my father, I mean, "she caught herself up, blushing. "They knew each other when I was akid. "

"Where?" asked Hal. 

"Oh, out east of here, " she answered evasively. 

Again she said to him once, "What I like about the 'Clarion' is thatit's trying to do something for _folks_. That's all the religion I couldever get into my head: that human beings are mostly worth treatingdecently. That counts for more than all your laws and rules and churchregulations. I don't like rules much, " she added, twinkling up at him. "I always want to kick 'em over, just as I always want to break throughthe police lines at a fire. "

"But rules and police lines are necessary for keeping life orderly, "said Hal. 

"I suppose so. But I don't know that I like things too orderly. Myteacher called me a lawless little demon, once, and I guess I still am. Suppose I should break all the rules of the office? Would you fire me?"And before he could answer she was up and had flashed away. 

As the intimacy grew, Hal found himself looking forward to theseswift-winged little visits. They made a welcome break in the detaileddrudgery; added to the day a glint of color, bright like the ripple ofhalf-hidden flame that crowned Milly's head. Once Veltman, intruding ontheir talk, had glared blackly and, withdrawing, had waited for the girlin the hallway outside from whence, as she left, Hal could hear theforeman's deep voice in anger and her clear replies tauntinglystimulating his chagrin. 

Having neglected the Willards for several days, Hal received a telephonemessage, about a month after Esmé Elliot's departure, asking him to stopin. He found Mrs. Willard waiting him in the conservatory. His oldfriend looked up as he entered, with a smile which did not hide thetrouble in her eyes. 

"Aren't you a lily-of-the-field!" admired the visitor, contemplating hergreen and white costume. 

"It's the Vanes' dance. Not going?"

"Not asked. Besides, I'm a workingman these days. "

"So one might infer from your neglect of your friends. Hal, I've had aletter from Esmé Elliot. "

"Any message?" he asked lightly, but with startled blood. 

There was no answering lightness in her tones. "Yes. One I hate to give. Hal, she's engaged herself to Will Douglas. It must have been by letter, for she wasn't engaged when she left. 'Tell Hal Surtaine' she says inher letter to me. "

"Thank you, Lady Jinny, " said Hal. 

The diminutive lady looked at him and then looked away, and suddenly arighteous flush rose on her cheeks. 

"I'm fond of Esmé, " she declared. "One can't help but be. She compelsit. But where men are concerned she seems to have no sense of her powerto hurt. I could _kill_ her for making me her messenger. Hal, boy, " sherose, slipping an arm through his caressingly, "I do hope you're notbadly hurt. "

"I'll get over it, Lady Jinny. There's the job, you know. "

He started for the office. Then, abruptly, as he went, "the job" seemedpurposeless. Unrealized, hope had still persisted in his heart--the hopethat, by some possible turn of circumstance, the shattered ideal of EsméElliot would be revivified. The blighting of his love for her had beenno more bitter, perhaps less so, than the realization which she hadcompelled in him of her lightness and unworthiness. Still, he had wantedher, longed for her, hoped for her. Now that hope was gone. There seemednothing left to work for, no adequate good beyond the striving. Helooked with dulled vision out upon blank days. With a sudden weakeningof fiber he turned into a hotel and telephoned McGuire Ellis that hewouldn't be at the office that evening. To the other's anxious query washe ill, he replied that he was tired out and was going home to bed. 

Meantime, far across the map at a famous Florida hostelry, the GreatAmerican Pumess, in the first flush and pride of her engagement whichall commentators agree upon as characteristic of maidenhood's vitalresolution, lay curled up in a little fluffy coil of misery and tears, repeating between sobs, "I hate him! I _hate_ him!" Meaning her_fiancé_, Mr. William Douglas, with whom her mind and emotions shouldproperly have been concerned? Not so, perspicacious reader. Meaning Mr. Harrington Surtaine. 

Upon _his_ small portion of the map, that gentleman wooed sleep in vainfor hours. Presently he arose from his tossed bed, dressed quietly, slipped out of the big door and walked with long, swinging steps down tothe "Clarion" Building. There it stood, a plexus of energies, in themidst of darkness and sleep. Eye-like, its windows peered vigilantly outinto the city. A door opened to emit a voice that bawled across the waysome profane demand for haste in the delivery of "that grub"; andthrough the shaft of light Hal could see brisk figures moving, and hearthe roar and thrill of the press sealing its irrevocable message. 

Again he felt, with a pride so profound that its roots struck down intothe depths of humility, his own responsibility to all that straininglife and energy and endeavor. He, the small atom, alone in the night, _was_ the "Clarion. " Those men, the fighting fellowship of the office, were rushing and toiling and coordinating their powers to carry out someideal still dimly inchoate in his brain. What mattered his little pangs?There was a man's test to meet, and the man within him stretchedspiritual muscles for the trial. 

"If I could only be sure what's right, " he said within himself, voicingthe doubt of every high-minded adventurer upon unbeaten paths. Sharply, and, as it seemed to him, incongruously, he wondered that he had neverlearned to pray; not knowing that, in the unfinished phrase he haduttered true prayer. A chill breeze swept down upon him. Looking up intothe jeweled heavens he recalled from the far distance of memory, theprayer of a great and simple soul, --

 "Make thou my spirit pure and clear As are the frosty skies. "

Hal set out for home, ready now for a few hours' sleep. At a blindcorner he all but collided with a man and a woman, walking at highspeed. The woman half turned, flinging him a quick and silvery"Good-evening. " It was Milly Neal. The man with her was Max Veltman. 

CHAPTER XIX

DONNYBROOK

Worthington began to find the "Clarion" amusing. It blared a new note. Common matter of everyday acceptance which no other paper in town hadever considered as news, became, when trumpeted from between the rampantroosters, vital with interest. And whithersoever it directed the publicattention, some highly respectable private privilege winced and snarled. Worthington did not particularly love the "Clarion" for the enemies itmade. But it read it. 

Now, a newspaper makes its enemies overnight. Friends take months oryears in the making. Hence the "Clarion, " whilst rapidly broadening itscircle of readers, owed its success to the curiosity rather than to theconfidence which it inspired. Meantime the effect upon its advertisingincome was disastrous. If credence could be placed in the lamentingShearson, wherever it attacked an abuse, whether by denunciation orridicule, it lost an advertiser. Moreover the public, not yet ready tocredit any journal with honest intentions, was inclined to regard the"Clarion" as "a chronic kicker. " The "Banner's" gibing suggestion of areversal of the editorial motto between the triumphant birds to read"With malice toward all, " stuck. 

But there were compensations. The blatant cocks had occasionalopportunity for crowing. With no small justification did they shrilltheir triumph over the Midland & Big Muddy Railroad. The "Mid and Mud"had declared war upon the "Clarion, " following the paper's statement ofthe true cause of the Walkersville wreck, as suggested by Marchmont, thereporter, at the breakfast. Marchmont himself had been banished fromthe railroad offices. All sources of regular news were closed to him. Therefore, backed by the "Clarion, " he proceeded to open up a line ofirregular news which stirred the town. For years the "Mid and Mud" hadgiven to Worthington a passenger service so bad that no community lessenslaved to a _laissez-faire_ policy would have endured it. Throughtrains drifted in anywhere from one to four hours late. Local trains, drawn by wheezy, tin-pot locomotives of outworn pattern, arrived anddeparted with such casualness as to render schedules a joke, and notinfrequently "bogged down" between stations until some antediluvianengine could be resuscitated and sent out to the rescue. The day coacheswere of the old, dangerous, wooden type. The Pullman service was utterlyunreliable, and the station in which the traveling populace ofWorthington spent much of its time, a draft-ridden barn. Yet Worthingtonsuffered all this because it was accustomed to it and lacked any meansof making protest vocal. 

Then the "Clarion" started in publishing its "Yesterday's Time-Table ofthe Midland & Big Muddy R. R. Co. " to this general effect:

 Day Express Due 10 A. M. Arrived 11. 43 A. M. Late 1 hour 43 min. Noon Local Due 12 A. M. Arrived 2. 10 P. M. Late 2 hrs. 10 min. Sunrise Limited Due 3 P. M. Arrived 3. 27 P. M. Late 0 hrs. 27 min. 

And so on. From time to time there would appear, underneath, a specialitem, of which the following is an example:

"The Eastern States Through Express of the Midland & Big Muddy Railroadarrived and departed on time yesterday. When asked for an explanation ofthis phenomenon, the officials declined to be interviewed. "

Against this "persecution, " the "Mid and Mud" authorities at firstmaintained a sullen silence. The "Clarion" then went into statistics. Itgave the number of passengers arriving and departing on each delayedtrain, estimated the value of their time, and constructed tables of themoney value of time lost in this way to the city of Worthington, perday, per month, and per year. The figures were not the less inspiring ofthought, for being highly amusing. 

People began to take an interest. They brought or sent in personalexperiences. A commercial traveler, on the 7. 50 train (arriving at10. 01, that day), having lost a big order through missing anappointment, told the "Clarion" about it. A contractor's agent, gazingfrom the windows of the stalled "Limited" out upon "fresh woods andpastures new" twenty miles short of Worthington, what time he shouldhave been at a committee meeting of the Council, forfeited a $10, 000contract and rushed violently into "Clarion" print, breathing slaughterand law-suits. Judge Abner Halloway and family, arriving at the New Yorkpier in a speeding taxi from the Eastern Express (five hours late out ofWorthington), just in time to see the Lusitania take his forwardedbaggage for a pleasant outing in Europe, hired a stenographer (male) totell the "Clarion" what he thought of the matter, in words of sevensyllables. Professor Beeton Trachs, the globe-trotting lecturer, whoarrived via the "M. And M. " for an eight o'clock appearance, at 9. 54, gave the "Clarion" an interview proper to the occasion of having toabjure a $200 guaranty, wherein the mildest and most judicial opinionexpressed by Professor Trachs was that crawling through a tropicaljungle on all fours was speed, and being hurtled down a mountain on thebosom of a landslide, comfort, compared to travel on the "Mid and Mud. "

All these and many similar experiences, the "Clarion" published in its"News of the M. And M. " column. It headed them, "Stories of Survivors. "For six weeks the railroad endured the proddings of ridicule. Then theFourth Vice-President of the road appeared in Mr. Harrington Surtaine'ssanctum. He was bland and hinted at advertising. Two weeks later theThird Vice-President arrived. He was vague and hinted at reprisals. TheSecond Vice-President presented himself within ten days thereafter, departed after five unsatisfactory minutes, and reported atheadquarters, with every symptom of an elderly gentleman suffering fromshock, that young Mr. Surtaine had seemed bored. The FirstVice-President then arrived on a special train. 

"What do you want, anyway?" he asked. 

"Decent passenger service for Worthington, " said the editor. "Just whatI've told every other species _and_ number of Vice-President on yourlist. "

"You get it, " said the First Vice-President. 

Thus was afforded another example of that super-efficiency which, we areassured, marks the caste of the American railroad as superior to allothers, and which consists in sending four men and spending severalweeks to do what one could do better in a single day. In the course of afew weeks the Midland & Big Muddy did bring its service up to areasonable standard, and the owner of the "Clarion" savored his firstpleasant proof of the power of the press. 

Vastly less important, but swifter and more definite in results and morepopular in effect, was the "Clarion's" anti-hat-check campaign. TheStickler, Worthington's newest hotel, had established a coat-room withthe usual corps of girl-bandits, waiting to strip every patron of hisouter garments before admitting him to the restaurant, and returningthem only upon the blackmail of a tip. All the other good restaurantshad followed suit. Worthington resented it, as it resented mostinnovations; but endured the imposition, for lack of solidarity, untilthe "Clarion" took up the subject in a series of paragraphs. 

"Do you think, " blandly inquired the editorial roosters, "that when youtip the hat-check girl she gets the tip? She doesn't. It goes to a manwho rents from the restaurant the privilege of bullying you out of adime or a quarter. The girl holds you up, because if she doesn't extortfifteen dollars a week, she loses her job and her own munificent wagesof seven dollars. The 'Clarion' takes pleasure in announcing a series ofportraits of the high-minded pirates of finance whom you support inluxury, when you 'give up' to the check-girl. Our first portrait, ladiesand gentlemen, is that of Mr. Abe Hotzenmuller, race-track bookmaker andwhiskey agent, who, in the intervals of these more reputableoccupations, extracts alms from the patrons of the Hotel Stickler. "

Next in line was "Shirty" MacDonough, a minor politician, "appropriatelyframed in silver dimes, " as the "Clarion" put it. He was followed byEddie Perkins, proprietor of a dubious resort on Mail Street. By thistime coat-room franchises had suffered a severe depreciation. Theydropped almost to zero when the newspaper, having clinched the lessonhome with its "Photo-graft Gallery of Leading Dime-Hunters, " exhortedits readers: "If you think you need your change as much as these men do, watch for the coupon in to-morrow's 'Clarion, ' and Stick it in YourHat. " The coupon was as follows:

 I READ THE CLARION. I WILL NOT GIVE ONE CENT IN TIPS TO ANY COAT-ROOM GRAFTER. WHAT ARE YOU GOING TO DO ABOUT IT?

The enterprise hit upon the psychological moment. Every check-roombristled with hats proclaiming defiance, and, incidentally, advertisingthe "Clarion. " The "cut-out coupon" ran for three weeks. In one monththe Stickler check-room, last to surrender, gave up the ghost, and Mr. Hotzenmuller sued the proprietor for his money back!

Over the theatrical managers the paper's victory was decisive in this, that it established honest dramatic criticism in Worthington. But onlyat a high cost. Not a line of theater advertising appeared in thecolumns after the editorial announcement of independence. Press ticketswere cut off. The "Clarion's" dramatic reporter was turned back from thegate of the various theaters, after paying for admittance. Nevertheless, the "Clarion" continued to publish frank criticism of current drama, through a carefully guarded secret arrangement with the critic of the"Evening News. " About this time a famous star, opening a three days'engagement, got into difficulties with the scene-shifters' union over anunjust demand for extra payment, refused to be blackmailed, and canceledthe second performance. One paper only gave the facts, and that was the"Clarion, " generally regarded as the defender and mouthpiece of thelaboring as against the capitalistic interests. Great was the wrath ofthe unions. Boycott was threatened; even a strike in the office. Inresponse, the editorial page announced briefly that its policy of givingthe news accurately and commenting upon it freely exempted no man ororganization. The trouble soon died out, but, while making new enemiesamongst the rabid organization men, strengthened the "Clarion's" growingrepute for independence. One of the most violent objectors was MaxVeltman, whose protest, delivered to Hal and McGuire Ellis, was sovehement that he was advised curtly and emphatically to confine hisactivities and opinions to his own department. 

"Look out for that fellow, " advised Ellis, as the foreman went awayfuming. "He hates you. "

"Only his fanaticism, " said Hal. 

"More than that. It's personal. I think, " added the associate editorafter some hesitancy, "it's 'Kitty the Cutie. ' He's jealous, Hal. And Ithink he's right. That girl's getting too much interested in you. "

Hal flushed sharply. "Nonsense!" he said, and the subject lapsed. 

Meantime the manager of the Ralston Opera House, where the labortrouble had occurred, made tentative proffer of peace in the form ofsending in the theater advertising again. Hal promptly refused to acceptit, by way of an object-lesson, despite the almost tearful protest ofhis own business office. This blow almost killed Shearson. 

In fact, the unfortunate advertising manager now lived in an atmosphereof Stygian gloom. Two of the most extensive purchasers of newspaperspace, the Boston Store and the Triangle Store, had canceled theircontracts immediately after the attack on the Pierces, through a "joker"clause inserted to afford such an opportunity. All the other departmentstores threatened to follow suit when the "Clarion" took up the cause ofthe Consumers' League. 

Mrs. Festus Willard was president of the organization, which had beenpractically moribund since its inception, for the sufficient reason thatno mention of its activities, designs, or purposed reforms could gainadmission to any newspaper in Worthington. The Retail Union saw to thatthrough its all-potent Publication Committee. Perceiving the crescentemancipation of the "Clarion, " Mrs. Willard, after due consultation withher husband, appealed to Hal. Would he help the League to obtain certainreforms? Specifically, seats for shopgirls, and extra pay for extrawork, as during Old Home Week, when the stores kept open until 10 P. M. ?Hal agreed, and, in the face of the dismalest forecasts from Shearson, prepared several editorials. Moreover, "Kitty the Cutie" took up thecampaign in her column, and her series of "Lunch-Time Chats, " with theirslangy, pungent, workaday flavor, presented the case of the overworkedsaleswomen in a way to stir the dullest sympathies. The event fullyjustified Shearson in his rôle of Cassandra. Half of the remainingstores represented in the Retail Union notified the "Clarion" of thewithdrawal of their advertising. Thus some twelve hundred dollars a weekof income vanished. Moreover, the Union, it was hinted, would probablyblacklist the "Clarion" officially. And the shop-folk gained nothing bythe campaign. The merchants were strong enough to defeat the League andits sole backer at every point. This was one of the "Clarion's"failures. 

Coincident with the ebb of the store advertising occurred a lapse incirculation, inexplicable to the staff until an analysis indicated thatthe women readers were losing interest. It was young Mr. Surtaine whosolved the mystery, by a flash of that newspaper instinct with whichEllis had early credited him. 

"Department store advertising is news, " he decided, in a talk with Ellisand Shearson. 

"How can advertising be news?" objected the manager. 

"Anything that interests the public is news, on the authority of no lessan expert than Mr. McGuire Ellis. Shopping is the main interest in lifeof thousands of women. They read the papers to find out where thebargains are. Watch 'em on the cars any morning and you'll see themstudying the ads. The information in those ads. Is what they most want. Now that we don't give it to them, they are dropping the paper. So we'vegot to give it to them. "

"Now you're talking, " cried Shearson. "Cut out this Consumers' Leagueslush and I'll get the stores back. "

"We'll cut out nothing. But we'll put in something. We'll print news ofthe department stores as news, not as advertising. "

"Well, if that ain't the limit!" lamented Shearson. "If you give 'emadvertising matter free, how can you ever expect 'em to pay for it?"

"We're not giving it to the stores. We're giving it to our readers. "

"In which case, " remarked McGuire Ellis with a grin, "we can afford tofurnish the real facts. "

"Exactly, " said Hal. 

From this talk developed a unique department in the "Clarion. " Anexpert woman shopper collected the facts and presented them daily underthe caption, "Where to Find Real Bargains, " and with the prefatory note, "No paid matter is accepted for this column. " The expert had anallowance for purchasing, where necessary, and the utmost freedom ofopinion was granted her. Thus, in the midst of a series of items, suchas--"The Boston Store is offering a special sale of linens atadvantageous prices"; "The necktie sale at the Emporium contains somegood bargains"; and "Scheffler and Mintz's 'furniture week' is worthattention, particularly in the rocking-chair and dining-setlines"--might appear some such information as this: "In the specialbargain sale of ribbons at the Emporium the prices are slightly higherthan the same lines sold for last week, on the regular counter"; or, "The heavily advertised antique rug collection at the Triangle is mostlyfraudulent. With a dozen exceptions the rugs are modern and of poorquality"; or, "The Boston Shop's special sale of rain coats are mostlydamaged goods. Accept none without guarantee. "

Never before had mercantile Worthington known anything like this. Something not unlike panic was created in commercial circles. Lawyerswere hopefully consulted, but ascertained in the first stages ofinvestigation, that wherever a charge of fraud was brought, the"Clarion" office actually had the goods, by purchase. All this wascostly to the "Clarion. " But it added nearly four thousand solidcirculation, of the buying class, a class of the highest value to anyadvertiser. Only with difficulty and by exercise of pressure on the partof E. M. Pierce, were the weaker members among the withdrawingadvertisers dissuaded from resuming their patronage of the "Clarion. "

"I wouldn't have thought it possible, " said the dictator, angrily, tohis associates. "The thing is getting dangerous. The damned paper is outfor the truth. "

"And the public is finding it out, " supplemented Gibbs, hisbrother-in-law. 

"Wait till my libel suit comes on, " said Pierce grimly. "I don't believeyoung Mr. Surtaine will have enough money left to indulge in the luxuryof muckraking, after that. "

"Won't the old man back him up?"

"Tells me that the boy is playing a lone hand, " said Pierce withsatisfaction. 

Herein he spoke the fact. While the "Clarion's" various campaigns werestill in mid-career, Dr. Surtaine had made his final appeal to his sonin vain, ringing one last change upon his Pæan of Policy. 

"What good does it all do you or anybody else? You're stirring up muck, and you're getting the only thing you ever get by that kind of activity, a bad smell. " He paused for his effect; then delivered himself of acharacteristically vigorous and gross aphorism:

"Boyee, you can't sell a stink, in this town. "

"Perhaps I can help to get rid of it, " said Hal. 

"Not you! Nobody thanks you for your pains. They take notice for awhile, because their noses compel 'em to. Then they forget. What thanksdoes the public give a newspaper? But the man you've roasted--he's afteryou, all the time. A sore toe doesn't forget. Look at Pierce. "

"Pierce has bothered me, " confessed Hal. "He's shut me off from thebanks. None of them will loan the 'Clarion' a cent. I have to go out oftown for my money. "

"Can you blame him? I'd have done the same if he'd roasted you as youroasted his girl. "

"News, Dad, " said Hal wearily. "It was news. "

"Let's not go over that again. You'll stick to your policy, I suppose, till it ruins you. About finances, by the way, where do you stand?"

"Stand?" repeated Hal. "I wish we did. We slip. Downhill; and prettyfast. "

"Why wouldn't you? Fighting your own advertisers. "

"Some advertising has come in, though. Mostly from out of town. "

"Foreign proprietary, " said Dr. Surtaine, using the technical term forpatent-medicine advertising from out of town, "isn't it? I've been doinga little missionary work among my friends in the trade, Hal; persuadedthem to give the 'Clarion' a try-out. The best of it is, they're gettingresults. "

"They ought to. Do you know we're putting on circulation at the rate ofnearly a thousand a week?"

"Expensive, though, isn't it?"

"Pretty bad. The paper costs a lot more to get out. We've enlarged ourstaff. Now we need a new press. There's thirty-odd thousand dollars, inone lump. "

"How long can you go on at this rate?"

"Without any more advertising?"

"You certainly aren't gaining, by your present policy. "

"Well, I can stick it out through the year. By that time the advertisingwill be coming in. It's _got_ to come to the paper that has thecirculation, Dad. "

"Hum!" droned the big doctor, dubiously. "Have you reckoned the Piercelibel suits in?"

"He can't win them. "

"Can't he? I don't know. He intends to try. And he feels pretty cockyabout it. E. M. Pierce has something up his sleeve, Boyee. "

"That would be a body-blow. But he can't win, " repeated Hal. "Why, I sawthe whole thing myself. "

"Just the same you ought to have the best libel lawyer you can get fromNew York. All the good local men are tied up with Pierce or afraid ofhim. "

"Can't afford it. "

To this point the big man had been leading up. "I've been thinking overthis Pierce matter, Hal, and I've made up my mind. Pierce is getting tothink he's the whole thing around here. He's bullied this town all hislife, just as he's bullied his employees until they hate him likepoison. But now he's gone up against the wrong game. Roast Certina, willhe? The pup! Why, if he'd ever run his factories or his store or hisConsolidated Employees' Organization one hundredth part as decently asI've run our business, he wouldn't have to stay in nights for fear someone might sneak a knife into him out of the dark. "

This was something less than just to Elias M. Pierce, who, whatever hisother faults, had never been a fearful man. 

"Libel, eh?" continued the genius of Certina, quietly but formidably. "We'll teach him a few things about libel, before he's through. Here'smy proposition, Boyee. You can fight Pierce, but you can't fight allWorthington. Every enemy you make for the 'Clarion' becomes an ally ofPierce. Quit all these other campaigns. Stop roasting the business menand advertisers. Drop your attack on the Mid and Mud: you've got 'emlicked, anyway. Let up on the street railway: I notice you're taking afall out of them on their overcrowding. Treat the theaters decently:they're entitled to a fair chance for their money. Cut out thisConsumers' League foolishness (I'm surprised at Milly Neal--the wayshe's lost her head over that). Make friends instead of foes. And goafter Elias M. Pierce, to the finish. Do this, and I'll back you withthe whole Certina income. Come on, now, Boyee. Be sensible. "

Hal's reply came without hesitation. "I'm sorry, Dad: but I can't do it. I've told you I'd stand or fall on what you've already given me. If Ican't pull through on that, I can't pull through at all. Let'sunderstand each other once and for all, Dad. I've got to try this thingout to the end. And I won't ask or take one cent from you or any oneelse, win or lose. "

"All right, Boyee, " returned his father sorrowfully. "You're wrong, deadwrong. But I like your nerve. Only, let me tell you this. You thinkyou're going to keep on printing the news and the whole news and allthat sort of thing. I tell you, it can't be done. "

"Why can't it be done?"

"Because, sooner or later, you'll bump up against your own interests sohard that you'll have to quit. "

"I don't see that at all, sir. "

"No, you don't. But one of these days something in the news line willcome up that'll hit you right between the eyes, if ever it gets intoprint. Then see what you'll do. "

"I'll print it. "

"No, you won't, Boyee. Human nature ain't built that way. You'll smotherit, and be glad you've got the power to. "

"Dad, you believe I'm honest, don't you?"

"Too blamed honest in some ways. "

"But you'd take my word?"

"Oh, that! Yes. For anything. "

"Then I put my honor on this. If ever the time comes that I have tosuppress legitimate news to protect or aid my own interests, I'll own upI'm beaten: I'll quit fighting, and I'll make the 'Clarion' a verysucking dove of journalism. Is that plain?"

"Shake, Boyee. You've bought a horse. Just the same, I hate to let up onPierce. Sure you won't let me hire a New York lawyer for the libelsuit?"

"No. Thank you just as much, Dad. That's a 'Clarion' fight, and the'Clarion's' money has got to back it. "

It was the gist of this decision which, some days later, had reachedE. M. Pierce, and caused him such satisfaction. With the "Clarion"depending upon its own resources, unbacked by the great reserve wealthof Certina's proprietor, he confidently expected to wreck it and forceits suspension by an overwhelming verdict of damages. For, as Dr. Surtaine had surmised, he held a card up his sleeve. 

CHAPTER XX

THE LESSER TEMPTING

Seven days of the week did Mr. Harrington Surtaine labor, without by anymeans doing all his work. For to the toil which goes to the making ofmany newspapers there is no end; only ever a fresh beginning. Had hebrought to the enterprise a less eager appetite for the changefuladventure of it, the unremitting demand must soon have dulled hisspirit. Abounding vitality he possessed, but even this flagged at times. One soft spring Sunday, while the various campaigns of the newspaperwere still in mid-conflict, he decided to treat himself to a day off. So, after a luxurious morning in bed, he embarked in his runabout for anexploration around the adjacent country. 

Having filled his lungs with two hours of swift air, he lunched, nonetoo delicately, at a village fifty miles distant, and, on coming out ofthe hotel, was warned by a sky shaded from blue to the murkiest gray, into having the top of his car put up. The rain chased him for thirtymiles and whelmed him in a wild swirl at the thirty-first. Drivingthrough this with some caution, he saw ahead of him a woman's figure, assupple as a willow withe, as gallant as a ship, beating through the furyof the elements. Hal slowed down, debating whether to offer conveyance, when he caught a glint of ruddy waves beneath the drenched hat, and thenext instant he was out and looking into the flushed face and dancingeyes of Milly Neal. 

"What on earth are you doing here?" he cried. 

"Can't you see?" she retorted merrily. "I'm a fish. "

"You need to be. Get in. You're soaked to the skin, " he continued, dismayed, as she began to shiver under the wrappings he drew around her. "Never mind. I'll have you home in a few minutes. "

But the demon of mischance was abroad in the storm. Before they hadcovered half a mile the rear tire went. Milly was now shaking dismally, for all her brave attempts to conceal it. A few rods away a signannounced "Markby's Road-House. " Concerned solely to get the girl into awarm and dry place, Hal turned in, bundled her out, ordered a privateroom with a fireplace, and induced the proprietor's wife by thepersuasions of a ten-dollar bill to provide a change of clothing for theouter, and hot drinks for the inner, woman. 

Half an hour later when he had affixed a new tire to the wheel, he andMilly sat, warmed and comforted before blazing logs, waiting for herclothes to dry out. 

"I know I look a fright, " she mourned. "That Mrs. Markby must buy herdresses by the pound. "

She gazed at him comically from above a quaint and nondescript garment, to which she had given a certain daintiness with a cleverly placedribbon or two and an adroit use of pins. Privately, Hal considered thatshe looked delightfully pretty, with her provocative eyes and the deepgleam of red in her hair like flame seen through smoke. 

"Do you often go out wading, ten miles from home?" he asked. 

"Not very. I was running away. "

"I didn't see any one in pursuit. "

"They knew too much. " Her firm little chin set rather grimly. "Do youwant to hear about it?"

"Yes. I'm curious, " confessed Hal. 

"I went to lunch with another girl and a couple of drummers, out atCallender's Pond Hotel. She said she knew the men and they were allright. They weren't. They got too fresh altogether. So I told Florenceshe could do as she pleased, but I was for home and the trolley. Iguess I could have made it with a life-preserver, " she laughed. 

Hal was surprisedly conscious of a rasp of anger within him. "You oughtnot to put yourself into such a position, " he declared. 

She threw him a covert glance from the corner of her sparkling eyes. "Oh, I guess I can take care of myself, " she decided calmly. "I alwayshave. When fresh drummers begin to talk private dining-room and coldbottles, I spread my little wings and flit. "

"To another private room, " mocked Hal. "Aren't you afraid?"

"With you? You're different. " There sounded in her voice the purringnote of utter content which is the subtlest because the most unconsciousflattery of womankind. 

A silence fell between them. Hal stared into the fire. 

"Are you warm enough?" he asked presently. 

"Yes. "

"Do you want something to eat? Or drink? What did you have to drink?" headded, glancing at the empty glass on the table. 

"Certina. "

"Certina?" he queried, uncertain at first whether she was joking. "Howcould you get Certina here?"

"Why not? They keep it at all these places. There's quite a bar-trade init. "

"Is that so?" said Hal, with a vague feeling of disturbance of ideas. "Which job do you like best: the Certina or the newspaper, Miss Neal?"

"My other boss calls me Milly, " she suggested. 

"Very well, --Milly, then. "

"Oh, I'm for the office. It's more exciting, a lot. "

"Your stuff, " said Hal, in the language of the cult, "is catching on. "

"You don't like it, though, " she countered quickly. 

"Yes, I do. Much better than I did, anyway. But the point is that it'sa success. Editorially I _have_ to like it. "

"I'd rather you liked it personally. "

"Some of it I do. The 'Lunch-Time Chats'--"

"And some of it you think is vulgar. "

"One has to suit one's style to the matter, " propounded Hal. "'Kitty theCutie' isn't supposed to be a college professor. "

"I hate to have you think me vulgar, " she insisted. 

"Oh, come!" he protested; "that isn't fair. I don't think _you_ vulgar, Milly. "

"I like to have you call me Milly, " she said. 

"It seems quite natural to, " he answered lightly. 

"I've thought sometimes I'd like to try my hand at a regular newsstory, " she went on, in a changed tone. "I think I've got one, if Icould only do it right; one of those facts-behind-the-news stories thatyou talked to us about. Do you remember meeting me with Max Veltman theother night?"

"Yes. "

"Did you think it was queer?"

"A little. "

"A girl I used to know back in the country tried to kill herself. Shewrote me a letter, but it didn't get to me till after midnight, so Icalled up Max and got him to go with me down to the Rookeries districtwhere she lives. Poor little Maggie! She got caught in one of thosesewing-girl traps. "

"Some kind of machinery?"

"Machinery? You don't know much about what goes on in your town, doyou?"

"Not as much as an editor ought to know--which is everything. "

"I'll bring you Maggie's letter. That tells it better than I can. And Iwant to write it up, too. Let me write it up for the paper. " She leanedforward and her eyes besought him. "I want to prove I can do somethingbesides being a vulgar little 'Kitty the Cutie. '"

"Oh, my dear, " he said, half paternally, but only half, "I'm sorry Ihurt you with that word. "

"You didn't mean to. " Her smile forgave him. "Maggie's story meansanother fight for the paper. Can we stand another?"

He warmed to the possessive "we. " "So you know about our warfare, " hesaid. 

"More than you think, perhaps. The books you gave me aren't the onlythings I study. I study the 'Clarion, ' too. "

"Why?" he asked, interested. 

"Because it's yours. " She looked at him straightly now. "Can you pull itthrough, Boss?"

"I think so. I hope so. "

"We've lost a lot of ads. I can reckon that up, because I had someexperience in the advertising department of the Certina shop, and I knowrates. " She pursed her lips with a dainty effect of careful computation. "Somewhere about four thousand a week out, isn't it?"

"Four thousand, three hundred and seventy in store business last week. "

The talk settled down and confined itself to the financial and editorialpolicies of the paper, Milly asking a hundred eager and shrewdquestions, now and again proffering some tentative counsel or caution. Impersonal though it seemed, through it Hal felt a growing tensity ofintercourse; a sense of pregnant and perilous intimacy drawing themtogether. 

"Since you're taking such an interest, I might get you to help Mr. Ellisrun the paper when I go away, " he suggested jocularly. 

"You're not going away?" The query came in a sort of gasp. 

"Next week. "

"For long?" Her hand, as if in protest against the dreaded answer, wentout to the arm of his chair. His own met and covered it reassuringly. 

"Not very. It's the new press. "

"We're going to have a new press?"

"Hadn't you heard? You seem to know so much about the office. We'regoing to build up the basement and set the press just inside the frontwall and then cut a big window through so that the world and his wifecan see the 'Clarion' in the very act of making them better. "

Both fell silent. Their hands still clung. Their eyes were fixed uponthe fire. Suddenly a log, half-consumed, crashed down, sending abroad ashower of sparks. The girl darted swiftly up to stamp out a tiny flameat her feet. Standing, she half turned toward Hal. 

"Where are you going?" she asked. 

"To New York. "

"Take me with you. "

So quietly had the crisis come that he scarcely realized it. For ameasured space of heart-beats he gazed into the fireplace. As he stared, she slipped to the arm of his chair. He felt the alluring warmth of herbody against his shoulder. Then he would have turned to search her eyes, but, divining him, she denied, pressing her cheek close against his own. 

"No; no! Don't look at me, " she breathed. 

"You don't know what you mean, " he whispered. 

"I do! I'm not a child. Take me with you. "

"It means ruin for you. "

"Ruin! That's a word! Words don't frighten me. "

"They do me. They're the most terrible things in the world. "

She laughed at that. "Is it the word you're afraid of, or is it me?"she challenged. "I'm not asking you anything. I don't want you to marryme. Oh!" she cried with a sinking break of the voice, "do you think I'm_bad_?"

Freeing himself, he caught her face between his hands. 

"Are you--have you been 'bad, ' as you call it?"

"I don't blame you for asking--after what I've said. But I haven't. "

"And now?"

"Now, I care. I never cared before. It was that, I suppose, kept mestraight. Don't you care for me--a little, Hal?"

He rose and strode to the window. When he turned from his long look outinto the burgeoning spring she was standing silent, expectant. Likestone she stood as he came back, but her arms went up to receive him. Her lips melted into his, and the fire of her face flashed through everyvein. 

"And afterward?" he said hoarsely. 

There was triumph in her answering laughter, passion-shaken though itwas. 

"Then you'll take me with you. "

"But afterward?" he repeated. 

Lingeringly she released herself. "Let that take care of itself. I don'tcare for afterward. We're free, you and I. What's to hinder us fromdoing as we please? Who's going to be any the worse for it? Oh, I toldyou I was lawless. It's the Hardscrabbler blood in me, I guess. "

Deep in Hal's memory a response to that name stirred. 

"Somewhere, " he said, "I have run across a Hardscrabbler before. "

"Me. But you've forgotten. "

"Have I? Let me see. It was in the old days when Dad and I weretraveling. You were the child with the wonderful red hair, the night Iwas hurt. _Were_ you?"

"And next day I tried to bite you because you wanted to play with aprettier little girl in beautiful clothes. "

Esmé! The electric spark of thought leaped the long space of years fromthe child, Esmé, to the girl, in the vain love of whom he had eaten hisheart hollow. For the moment, passion for the vivid woman-creaturebefore him had dulled that profounder feeling almost to obliteration. Perhaps--so the thought came to him--he might find forgetfulness, anodyne in Milly Neal's arms. But what of Milly, taken on such poorterms?

The bitter love within him gave answer. Not loyalty to Esmé Elliot whomhe knew unworthy, but to Milly herself, bound him to honor andrestraint; so strangely does the human soul make its dim and perilousway through the maze of motives. Even though the girl, now questing hisface with puzzled, frightened eyes, asked nothing but to belong to him;demanded no bond of fealty or troth, held him free as she held herselffree, content with the immediate happiness of a relation that, must endin sorrow for one or the other, yet he could not take what she soprodigally, so gallantly proffered, with the image of another womansmiling through his every thought. That, indeed, were to be unworthy, not of Esmé, not of himself, but of Milly. 

He made a step toward her, and her glad hands went out to him again. Very gently he took them; very gently he bent and kissed her cheek. 

"That's for good-bye, " he said. The voice in which he spoke seemed aliento his ears, so calm it was, so at variance with his inner turmoil. 

"You won't take me with you?"

"No. "

"You promised. "

"I know. " He was not concerned now with verbal differentiations. Truly, he had promised, wordlessly though it had been. "But I can't. "

"You don't care?" she said piteously. 

"I care very much. If I cared less--"

"There's some other woman. "

"Yes. "

Flame leaped in her eyes. "I hope she poisons your life. "

"I hope I haven't poisoned yours, " he returned, lamely enough. 

"Oh, I'll manage to live on, " she gibed. "I guess there are other menin the world besides you. "

"Don't make it too hard, Milly. "

"You're pitying me! Don't you dare pity me!" A sob rose, and burst fromher. Then abruptly she seized command over herself. "What does it allmatter?" she said. "Go away now and let me change my clothes. "

"Are they dry?"

"I don't care whether they're dry or not. I don't care what becomes ofme now. " All the sullen revolt of generations of lawlessness was vocalin her words. "You wait and see!"

Somehow Hal got out of the room, his mind awhirl, to await herdownstairs. In a few moments she came, and with eyes somberly avertedgot into the runabout without a word. As they swung into the road, theymet McGuire Ellis and Wayne, who bowed with a look of irrepressiblesurprise. During the ride homeward Hal made several essays atconversation. But the girl sat frozen in a white silence. Only when theypulled up at her door did she speak. 

"I'm going to try to forget this, " she said in a dry, hard voice. "Youdo the same. I won't quit my job unless you want me to. "

"Don't, " said Hal. 

"But you won't be bothered with seeing me any more. I'll send you MaggieBreen's letter and the story. I guess I understand a little better nowhow she felt when she took the poison. "

With that rankling in his brain, Hal Surtaine sat and pondered in hisprivate study at home. His musings arraigned before him for judgment andcontrast the two women who had so stormily wrought upon his new life. Esmé Elliot had played with his love, had exploited it, made of it atinsel ornament for vanity, sought, through it, to corrupt him from thehard-won honor of his calling. She had given him her lips for a lure;she had played, soul and body, the petty cheat with a high and ennoblingpassion. Yet, because she played within the rules by the world'smeasure, there was no stain upon her honor. By that same measure, whatof Milly Neal? In her was no trickery of sex; only the ungrudging, wide-armed offer of all her womanhood, reckless of aught else but love. Debating within himself the phrase, "an honest woman, " Hal laughedaloud. His laughter lacked much of being mirthful, and something ofbeing just. For he had reckoned two daughters of Eve by the samestandard, which is perhaps the oldest and most disastrous errorhereditary to all the sons of Adam. 

CHAPTER XXI

THE POWER OF PRINT

Hal paid thirty-two thousand dollars for the new press. It was adelicate giant of mechanism, able not only to act, but also to thinkwith stupendous accuracy and swiftness; lacking only articulate speechto be wholly superhuman. But in signing the check for it, Hal, for thefirst time in his luxurious life experienced a financial qualm. Alwaysbefore there had been an inexhaustible source wherefrom to draw. Nowthat he had issued his declaration of pecuniary independence, he beganto appreciate the perishable nature of money. He came back from hisweek's journey to New York feeling distinctly poorer. 

Moreover there was an uncomfortable paradox connected with his purchase. That he should be put to so severe an expenditure merely for the purposeof incurring an increased current expense, struck him as a rathersardonic joke. Yet so it was. Circulation does not mean direct profit toa newspaper. On the contrary, it implies loss in many cases. For someweeks it had been costing the "Clarion, " to print the extra papersnecessitated by the increased demand, more than the money received fromtheir sale. Until the status of the journal should justify a higheradvertising charge, every added paper sold would involve a loss. True, an augmented circulation logically commands a higher advertising rate;it is thus that a newspaper reaps its harvest; and soon Hal hoped to beable to raise his advertising rate from fifteen to twenty-five cents aline. At that return his books would show a profit on a normal volume ofadvertising. Meantime he performed an act of involuntary philanthropywith every increase of issue, Nevertheless, Hal felt for his mechanicalgiant something of the new-toy thrill. To him it was a symbol ofproductive power. It made appeal to his imagination, typifying thereborn "Clarion. " He saw it as a master-loom weaving fresh patterns, dayby day, into the fabric of the city's life and thought. That all mightview the process, he had it mounted high from the basement, behind abroad plate-glass show window set in the front wall, a highlyunstrategic position, as McGuire Ellis pointed out. 

"Suppose, " said he, "a horse runs wild and makes a dive through thatwindow? Or a couple of bums get shooting at each other, and a straybullet comes whiffling through the glass and catches young Mr. Press inhis delikit insides. We're out of business for a week, maybe, mendinghim up. "

Shearson, however, was in favor of it. It suggested prosperity andaroused public interest. On Hal's return from New York, the fat andmelancholious advertising manager had exhibited a somewhat mollifiedpessimism. 

"The Boston Store is coming back, " he visited Hal's sanctum to announce. 

"Why, that's John M. Gibbs's store, isn't it?"

"Sure. "

"And he's E. M. Pierce's brother-in-law. I thought he'd stick by hisfamily in fighting the 'Clarion. '"

"Family is all right, but Grinder Gibbs is for business first andeverything else afterwards. Our rates look good to him, with thecirculation we're showing. And he knows we bring results. He's beenusing us on the quiet for a little side issue of his own. "

"What's that?"

"Some sewing-girls' employment thing. It's in the 'Classified'department. Don't amount to much; but it's proved to him that the'Clarion' ad does the business. I've been on his trail for two weeks. Sothe store starts in Sunday with half-pages. They say Pierce is crazymad. "

"No wonder. "

"The best of it is that now the Retail Union won't fight us, as a body, for taking up the Consumers' League fight. They can't very well, withtheir second biggest store using the 'Clarion's' columns. "

McGuire Ellis, too, was feeling quite cheerful over the matter. 

"It shows that you can be independent and get away with it, " hedeclared, "if you get out an interesting enough paper. By the way, that's a hot little story 'Kitty the Cutie' turned in on the Breengirl's suicide. "

"It was only attempted suicide, wasn't it?"

"The first time. She had a second trial at it day before yesterday andturned the trick. You'll find Neal's copy on your desk. I held it foryou. "

From out of a waiting heap of mail, proof, and manuscript, Hal selectedthe sheets covered with Milly Neal's neat business chirography. She hadwritten her account briefly and with restraint, building her "story"around the girl's letter. It set forth the tragedy of a petty swindle. 

The scheme was as simple as it was cruel. A concern calling itself "TheSewing Aid Association" advertised for sewing-women, offering from tento fifteen dollars a week to workers; experience not necessary. MaggieBreen answered the advertisement. The manager explained to her that thejob was making children's underclothing from pattern. She would berequired to come daily to the factory and sew on a machine which shewould purchase from the company, the price, thirty dollars, beingreckoned as her first three weeks' wages. To all this, duly set forth ina specious contract, the girl affixed her signature. 

She was set to work at once. The labor was hard, the forewoman a driver, but ten dollars a week is good pay. Hoping for a possible raise Maggieturned out more garments than any of her fellow workers. For two weeksand a half all went well. In another few days the machine would be paidfor, the money would begin to come in, and Maggie would get a reallysquare meal, which she had come to long for with a persistent and severehankering. Then the trap was sprung. Maggie's work was found"unsatisfactory. " She was summarily discharged. In vain did she protest. She would try again; she would do better. No use; "the house" found hergarments unmarketable. Sorrowfully she asked for her money. No money wasdue her. Again she protested. The manager thrust a copy of her contractunder her nose and turned her into the street. Thus the "Sewing AidAssociation" had realized upon fifteen days' labor for which they hadnot paid one cent, and the "installment" sewing-machine was ready forits next victim. This is a very pleasant and profitable policy and is inuse, in one form or another, in nearly every American city. Proof ofwhich the sufficiently discerning eye may find in the advertisingcolumns of many of our leading newspapers and magazines. 

To Maggie Breen it was small consolation that she was but one of many. Even her simple mind grasped the "joker" in the contract. She tore upthat precious document, went home, reflected that she was rather hungryand likely to be hungrier, quite wretched and likely to be wretcheder;and so made a decoction of sulphur matches and drank it. An ambulancesurgeon disobligingly arrived in time to save her life for once; but thesecond time she borrowed some carbolic acid, which is more expeditiousthan any ambulance surgeon. 

This was the story which "Kitty the Cutie, " while sticking close to thefacts, had contrived to inform with a woman's wrath and a woman's pity. Reading it, Hal took fire. He determined to back it up with aneditorial. But first he would look into the matter for himself. Withthis end in view he set out for Number 65 Sperry Street, where MaggieBreen's younger sister and bedridden mother lived. It was his maidenessay at reporting. 

Sperry Street shocked Hal. He could not have conceived that a carefullyregulated and well-kept city such as Worthington (he knew it, be itremembered, chiefly from above the wheels of an automobile) would permitsuch a slum to exist. On either side of the street, gaunt woodenbarracks, fire-traps at a glance, reared themselves five rackety storiesupward, for the length of a block. Across intersecting Grant Street thesky-line dropped a few yards, showing ragged through the metal corniceand sickly brick chimneys of a tenement row only a degree lessforbidding than the first. The street itself was a mere refuse patchsmeared out over bumpy cobbles. The visitor entered the tenement at 65, between reeking barrels which had waited overlong for the garbage cart. 

He was received without question, as a reporter for the "Clarion. " Atfirst Sadie Breen, anæmic, hopeless-eyed, timorous, was reluctant tospeak. But the mother proved Hal's ally. 

"Let 'im put it in the paper, " she exhorted. "Maybe it'll keep someother girl away from them sharks. "

"Why didn't your sister sue the company?" asked Hal. 

"Where'd we get the money for a lawyer?" whined Sadie. 

"It's no use, anyway, " said Mrs. Breen. "They've tried it in MunicipalCourt. The sharks always wins. Somebody ought to shoot that manager, "she added fiercely. 

"Yes; that's great to say, " jeered Sadie, in a whine. "But look whathappened to that Mason girl from Hoppers Hollow. She hit at him with apair of scissors, an' they sent her up for a year. "

"Better that than Cissy Green's way. You know what become of her. Wenton the street, " explained Mrs. Breen to Hal. 

They poured out story after story of poor women entrapped by one oranother of those lures which wring the final drop of blood from thebleakest poverty. In the midst of the recital there was a knock at thedoor, and a tall young man in black entered. He at once introducedhimself to Hal as the Reverend Norman Hale, and went into conferencewith the two women about a place for Sadie. This being settled, Hal'smission was explained to him. 

"A reporter?" said the Reverend Norman. "I wish the papers _would_ takethis thing up. A little publicity would kill it off, I believe. "

"Won't the courts do anything?"

"They can't. I've talked to the judge. The concern's contract iswater-tight. "

The two young men went down together through the black hallways, andstood talking at the outer door. 

"How do people live in places like this?" exclaimed Hal. 

"Not very successfully. The death-rate is pretty high. Particularly oflate. There's what a friend of mine around the corner--he happens to bea barkeeper, by the way--calls a lively trade in funerals around here. "

"Is your church in this district?"

"My club is. People call it a mission, but I don't like the word. It'sgot too much the flavor of reaching down from above to dispensecondescending charity. "

"Charity certainly seems to be needed here. "

"Help and decent fairness are needed; not charity. What's your paper, bythe way?"

"The 'Clarion. '"

"Oh!" said the other, in an altered tone. "I shouldn't suppose that the'Clarion' would go in much for any kind of reform. "

"Do you read it?"

"No. But I know Dr. Surtaine. "

"Dr. Surtaine doesn't own the 'Clarion. ' I do. "

"You're Harrington Surtaine? I thought I had seen you somewhere before. But you said you were a reporter. "

"Pardon me, I didn't. Mrs. Breen said that. However, it's true; I'mdoing a bit of reporting on this case. And I'm going to do some writingon it before I'm through. "

"As for Dr. Surtaine--" began the young clergyman, then checked himself, pondering. 

What further he might have had to say was cut off by a startlingoccurrence. A door on the floor above opened; there was a swift patterof feet, and then from overhead, a long-drawn, terrible cry. Immediatelya young girl, her shawl drawn about her face, ran from the darkness intothe half-light of the lower hall and would have passed between them butthat Norman Hale caught her by the arm. 

"Lemme go! Lemme go!" she shrieked, pawing at him. 

"Quiet, " he bade her. "What is it, Emily?"

"Oh, Mr. Hale!" she cried, recognizing him and clutching at hisshoulder. "Don't let it get me!"

"Nothing's going to hurt you. Tell me about it. "

"It's the Death, " she shuddered. 

The man's face changed. "Here?" he said. "In this block?"

"Don't you go, " she besought. "Don't you go, Mr. Hale. You'll get it. "

"Where is it? Answer me at once. "

"First-floor front, " sobbed the girl. "Mrs. Schwarz. "

"Don't wait for me, " said the minister to Hal. "In fact you'd betterleave the place. Good-day. "

Thus abruptly discarded from consideration, Hal turned to the fugitive. 

"Is some one dead?"

"Not yet. "

"Dying, then?"

"As good as. It's the Death, " said the girl with a strong shudder. 

"You said that before. What do you mean by the Death?"

"Don't keep me here talkin', " she shivered. "I wanta go home. "

Hal walked along with her, wondering. "I wish you would tell me, " hesaid gently. 

"All I know is, they never get well. "

"What sort of sickness is it?"

"Search me. " The petty slang made a grim medium for the uncertainty ofterror which it sought to express. "They've had it over in the Rookeriessince winter. There ain't no name for it. They just call it the Death. "

"The Rookeries?" said Hal, caught by the word. "Where are they?"

"Don't you know the Rookeries?" The girl pointed to the long double rowof grisly wooden edifices down the street. "Them's Sadler's Shacks onthis side, and Tammany Barracks on the other. They go all the way aroundthe block. "

"You say the sickness has been in there?"

"Yes. Now it's broken out an' we'll all get it an' die, " she wailed. 

A little, squat, dark man hurried past them. He nodded, but did notpause. 

"I know him, " said Hal. "Who is he?"

"Doc De Vito. He tends to all the cases. But it's no good. They alldie. "

"You keep your head, " advised Hal. "Don't be scared. And wash your handsand face thoroughly as soon as you get home. "

"A lot o' good that'll do against the Death, " she said scornfully, andleft him. 

Back at the office, Hal, settling down to write his editorial, put thematter of the Rookeries temporarily out of mind, but made a note toquestion his father about it. 

Milly Neal's article, touched up and amplified by Hal's pen, appearedthe following morning. The editorial was to be a follow-up in the nextday's paper. Coming down early to put the finishing touches to this, Halfound the article torn out and pasted on a sheet of paper. Across thetop of the paper was written in pencil:

 "_Clipped from the Clarion; a Deadly Parallel_. "

The penciled legend ran across the sheet to include, under its captiona second excerpt, also in "Clarion" print, but of the advertisementstyle:

 WANTED--Sewing-girls for simple machine work. Experience not necessary. $10 to $15 a week guaranteed. Apply in person at 14 Manning Street. THE SEWING AID ASSOCIATION. 

Below, in the same hand writing was the query:

"_What's your percentage of the blood-money, Mr. Harrington Surtaine?"_

Hal threw it over to Ellis. "Whose writing is that?" he asked. "It looksfamiliar to me. "

"Max Veltman's, " said Ellis. He took in the meaning of it. "The insolentwhelp!" he said. 

"Insolent? Yes; he's that. But the worst of it is, I'm afraid he'sright. " And he telephoned for Shearson. 

The advertising manager came up, puffing. 

Hal held out the clipping to him. 

"How long has that been running?"

"On and off for six months. "

"Throw it out. "

"Throw it out!" repeated the other bitterly. "That's easy enough said. "

"And easily enough done. "

"It's out already. Taken out by early notice this morning. "

"That's all right, then. "

"_Is_ it all right!" boomed Shearson. "_Is_ it! You won't think so whenyou hear the rest of it. "

"Try me. "

"Do you know _who_ the Sewing Aid Association is?"

"No. "

"It's John M. Gibbs! That's who it is!"

"Yell louder, Shearson. It may save you from apoplexy, " advised McGuireEllis with tender solicitude. 

"And we lose every line of the Boston Store advertising, that I workedso hard to get back. "

"That'll hurt, " allowed Ellis. 

"Hurt! It draws blood, that does. That Sewing Aid Association is Gibbs'sscheme to supply the children's department of his store. Why couldn'tyou find out who you were hitting, Mr. Surtaine?" demanded Shearsonpathetically, "before you went and mucksed everything up this way? Seewhat comes of all this reform guff. "

"Are you sure that John M. Gibbs is back of that sewing-girl ad?"

"Sure? Didn't he call me up this morning and raise the devil?"

"Thank you, Mr. Shearson. That's all. "

To his editorial galley-proof Hal added two lines. 

"What's that, Mr. Surtaine?" asked the advertising manager curiously. 

"That's outside of your department. But since you ask, I'll tell you. It's an editorial on the kind of swindle that causes tragedies likeMaggie Breen's. And the sentence which I have just added, thanks to you, is this:

"'The proprietor of this scheme which drives penniless women to thestreet or to suicide is John M. Gibbs, principal owner of the BostonStore. '"

Words failed Shearson; also motive power, almost. For reckonable secondshe stood stricken. Then slowly he got under way and rolled through thedoor. Once, on the stairs, they heard from him a protracted rumblinggroan. "Ruin, " was the one distinguishable word. 

It left an echo in Hal's brain, an echo which rang hollowly amongstmisgivings. 

"_Is_ it ruin to try and run a newspaper without taking a percentage ofthat kind of profits, Mac?" he asked. 

"Well, a newspaper can't be too squeamish about its ads. " was thecautious answer. 

"Do all newspapers carry that kind of stuff?"

"Not quite. Most of them, though. They need the money. "

"What's the matter with business in this town? Everything seems to berotten. "

Ellis took refuge in a proverb. "Business is business, " he statedsuccinctly. 

"And it's as bad everywhere as here? This is all new to me, you know. Irather expected to find every concern as decently and humanly run asCertina. "

One swift, suspicious glance Ellis cast upon his superior, but Hal'sface was candor itself. "Well, no, " he admitted. "Perhaps it isn't asbad in some cities. The trouble here is that all the papers areterrorized or bribed into silence. Until we began hitting out with ourlittle shillalah, nobody had ever dared venture a peep of disapproval. So, business got to thinking it could do as it pleased. You can't reallyblame business much. Immunity from criticism isn't ever good for thewell-known human race. "

Hal took the matter of the "Sewing Aid" swindle home with him forconsideration. Hitherto he had considered advertising only as itaffected or influenced news. Now he began to see it in another light, asa factor in itself of immense moral moment and responsibility. It wasdimly outlined to his conscience that, as a partner in the profit, hebecame also a partner in the enterprise. Thus he faced the question ofthe honesty or dishonesty of the advertising in his paper. And this is aquestion fraught with financial portent for the honorable journalist. 

CHAPTER XXII

PATRIOTS

Worthington's Old Home Week is a gay, gaudy, and profitable institution. During the six days of its course the city habitually maintains theatmosphere of a three-ringed circus, the bustle of a county fair, andthe business ethics of the Bowery. Allured by widespread advertising andencouraged by special rates on the railroads, the countryside for aradius of one hundred miles pours its inhabitants into the localmetropolis, their pockets filled with greased dollars. Upon themWorthington lavishes its left-over and shelf-cluttering merchandise, atfifty per cent more than its value, amidst general rejoicings. As FestusWillard once put it, "There is a sound of revelry by night and larcenyby day. " But then Mr. Willard, being a manufacturer and not a retailer, lacks the subtler sympathy which makes lovely the spirit of Old Homehospitality. 

This year the celebration was to outdo itself. Because of the centennialfeature, no less a person than the President of the United States, whohad spent a year of his boyhood at a local school, was pledged toattend. In itself this meant a record crowd. Crops had been good locallyand the toil-worn agriculturist had surplus money wherewith to purchasephonographs, gold teeth, crayon enlargements of self and family, homeinstruction outfits for hand-painting sofa cushions, and similar primenecessities of farm life. To transform his static savings into dynamicassets for itself was Worthington's basic purpose in holding its galaweek. And now this beneficent plan was threatened by one individual, andhe young, inexperienced, and a new Worthingtonian, Mr. HarringtonSurtaine. This unforeseen cloud upon the horizon of peace, prosperity, and happiness rose into the ken of Dr. Surtaine the day after theappearance of the sewing-girl editorial. 

Dr. Surtaine hadn't liked that editorial. With his customary air oflong-suffering good nature he had told Hal so over his home-made applepie and rich milk, at the cheap and clean little luncheon place which hepatronized. Hal had no defense or excuse to offer. Indeed, his referenceto the topic was of the most casual order and was immediately followedby this disconcerting question:

"What about the Rookeries epidemic, Dad?"

"Epidemic? There's no epidemic, Boyee. "

"Well, there's something. People are dying down there faster than theyought to. It's spread beyond the Rookeries now. "

This was no news to the big doctor. But it was news to him that Hal knewit. 

"How do you know?" he asked. 

"I've been down there and ran right upon it. "

The father's affection and alarm outleapt his caution at this. "Youbetter keep away from there, Boyee, " he warned anxiously. 

"If there's no epidemic, why should I keep away?"

"There's always a lot of infection down in those tenements, " said Dr. Surtaine lamely. 

"Dad, when you made your report for the 'Clarion' did you tell us allyou knew?"

"All except some medical technicalities, " said the Doctor, who nevertold a lie when a half-lie would serve. 

"I've just had a talk with the health officer, Dr. Merritt. "

"Merritt's an alarmist. "

"He's alarmed this time, certainly. "

"What does he think it is?"

"It?" said Hal, a trifle maliciously. "The epidemic?"

"Epidemic's a big word. The sickness. "

"How can he tell? He's had no chance to see the cases. They stillmysteriously disappear before he can get to them. By the way, your Dr. De Vito seems to have a hand in that. "

"Hal, I wish you'd get over your trick of seeing a mystery ineverything, " said his father with a mild and tempered melancholy. "It'sa queer slant to your brain. "

"There's a queer slant to this business of the Rookeries somewhere, butI don't think it's in my brain. Merritt says the Mayor is holding himoff, and he believes that Tip O'Farrell, agent for the Rookeries, hasgot the Mayor's ear. He wants to force the issue by quarantining thewhole locality. "

"And advertise to the world that there's some sort of contagion there!"cried Dr. Surtaine in dismay. 

"Well, if there is--"

"Think of Old Home Week, " adjured his father. 

"The whole thing would be stamped out long before then. "

"But not the panic and the fear of it. Hal, I do hope you aren't goingto take this up in the 'Clarion. '"

"Not at present. There isn't enough to go on. But we're going to watch, and if things get any worse I intend to do something. So much I'vepromised Merritt. "

The result of this conversation was that Dr. Surtaine called a specialmeeting of the Committee on Arrangements for Old Home Week. Inconformity with the laws of its genus, the committee was made up of therepresentative business men of the city, with a clergyman or two forcompliment to the Church, and most of the newspaper owners or editors, to enlist the "services of the press. "

Its chairman was thoroughly typical of the mental and ethical attitudeof the committee. He felt comfortably assured that as he thought uponany question of local public import, so would they think. Nevertheless, he didn't intend to tell them all he knew. Such was not the purpose ofthe meeting. Its real purpose, not to put too fine a point on it, was tointimidate the newspapers, lest, if the "Clarion" broke the politicsilence, others might follow; and, as a secondary step, to furnish fundsfor the handling of the Rookeries situation. Since Dr. Surtaine designedto reveal as little as possible to his colleagues, he naturally beganhis speech with the statement that he would be perfectly frank withthem. 

"There's more sickness than there ought to be in the Rookeriesdistrict, " he proceeded. "It isn't dangerous, but it may proveobstinate. Some sort of malarious affection, apparently. Perhaps it maybe necessary to do some cleaning up down there. In that case, money maybe needed. "

"How much?" somebody asked. 

"Five thousand dollars ought to do it. "

"That's a considerable sum, " another pointed out. 

"And this is a serious matter, " retorted the chairman. "Many of usremember the disastrous effect that rumors of smallpox had on Old HomeWeek, some years back. We can't afford to have anything of that sortthis time. An epidemic scare might ruin the whole show. "

Now, an epidemic to these hard-headed business men was something thatkept people away from their stores. And the rumor of an epidemic mightaccomplish that as thoroughly as the epidemic itself. Therefore, withoutquestioning too far, they were quite willing to spend money to avertsuch disaster. The sum suggested was voted into the hands of a committeeof three to be appointed by the chair. 

"In the mean time, " continued Dr. Surtaine, "I think we should go onrecord to the effect that any newspaper which shall publish or anyindividual who shall circulate any report calculated to inspire distrustor alarm is hostile to the best interests of the city. "

"Well, what newspaper is likely to do that?" demanded Leroy Vane, ofthe "Banner. "

"If it's any it'll be the 'Clarion, '" growled Colonel Parker, editor ofthe "Telegram. "

"The newspaper business in this town is going to the dogs since the'Clarion' changed hands, " said Carney Ford, of the "Press, " savagely. "Nobody can tell what they're going to do next over there. They'rekeeping the decent papers on the jump all the time, with theiryellowness and scarehead muckraking. "

"A big sensational story about an epidemic would be great meat for the'Clarion, '" said Vane. "What does it care for the best interests of thetown?"

"As an editor, " observed Dr. Surtaine blandly, "my son don't appear tobe over-popular with his confrères. "

"Why should he be?" cried Parker. "He's forever publishing stuff thatwe've always let alone. Then the public wants to know why we don't getthe news. Get it? Of course we get it. But we don't always want to printit. There's such a thing as a gentleman's understanding in the newspaperbusiness. "

"So I've heard, " replied the chairman. "Well, gentlemen, the boy'syoung. Give him time. "

"I'll give him six months, not longer, to go on the way he's beengoing, " said John M. Gibbs, with a vicious snap of his teeth. 

"Does the 'Clarion' really intend to publish anything about anepidemic?" asked Stickler, of the Hotel Stickler. 

"Nothing is decided yet, so far as I know. But I may safely say thatthere's a probability of their getting up some kind of a sensationalstory. "

"Can't you control your own son?" asked some one bluntly. 

"Understand this, if you please, gentlemen. Over the Worthington'Clarion' I have no control whatsoever. "

"Well, there's where the danger lies, " said Vane. "If the 'Clarion'comes out with a big story, the rest of us have got to publish somethingto save our face. "

"What's to be done, then?" cried Stickler. "This means a big loss to thehotel business. "

"To all of us, " amended the chairman. "My suggestion is that our specialcommittee be empowered to wait upon the editor of the 'Clarion' and talkthe matter over with him. "

Embodied in the form of a motion this was passed, and the chairappointed as that committee three merchants, all of whom were members ofthe Publication Committee of the Retail Union; and, as such, exercisedthe most powerful advertising control in Worthington. Dr. Surtaine stillpinned his hopes to the dollar and its editorial potency. 

Unofficially and privately these men invited to go with them to the"Clarion" office Elias M. Pierce, who had not been at the meeting. Atfirst he angrily refused. He wished to meet that young whelp Surtainenowhere but in a court of law, he announced. But after BertramHollenbeck, of the Emporium, the chairman of the subcommittee, hadoutlined his plan, Pierce took a night to think it over, and in themorning accepted the invitation with a grim smile. 

Forewarned by his father, who had begged that he consider carefully andwith due regard to his own future the proposals to be set before him, Hal was ready to receive the deputation in form. Pierce's presencesurprised him. He greeted all four men with equally punctiliouspoliteness, however, and gave courteous attention while Hollenbeck spokefor his colleagues. The merchant explained the purpose of the visit; setforth the importance to the city of the centennial Old Home Week, andurged the inadvisability of any sensationalism which might alarm thepublic. 

"We have sufficient assurance that there's nothing dangerous in thepresent situation, " he said. 

"I haven't, " said Hal. "If I had, there would be nothing further to besaid. The 'Clarion' is not seeking to manufacture a sensation. "

"What is the 'Clarion' seeking to do?" asked Stensland, another of thecommittee. 

"Discover and print the news. "

"Well, it isn't news until it's printed, " Hollenbeck pointed outcomfortably. "And what's the use of printing that sort of thing, anyway?It does a lot of people a lot of harm; but I don't see how it canpossibly do any one any good. "

"Oh, put things straight, " said Stensland. "Here, Mr. Editor; you'vestirred up a lot of trouble and lost a lot of advertising by it. Now, you start an epidemic scare and kill off the biggest retail business ofthe year, and you won't find an advertiser in town to stand by you. Isthat plain?"

"Plain coercion, " said Hal. 

"Call it what you like, " began the apostle of frankness, when Hollenbeckcut in on him. 

"No use getting excited, " he said. "Let's hear Mr. Surtaine's views. What do you think ought to be done about the Rookeries?"

In anticipation of some such question Hal had been in consultation withDr. Elliot and the health officer that morning. 

"Open up the Rookeries to the health authorities and to privatephysicians other than Dr. De Vito. Call Tip O'Farrell's blockade off. Clean out and disinfect the tenements. If necessary, quarantine everybuilding that's suspected. "

"Why, what do you think the disease is?" cried Hollenbeck, taken abackby the positiveness of Hal's speech. 

"Do _you_ tell _me_. You've come here to give directions. "

"Something in the nature of malaria, " said Hollenbeck, recoveringhimself. "So there's no call for extreme measures. The Old Home WeekCommittee will look after the cleaning-up. As for quarantine, that wouldbe a confession. And we want to do the thing as quietly as possible. "

"You've come to the wrong shop to buy quiet, " said Hal mildly. 

"Now listen to _me_. " Elias M. Pierce sat forward in his chair andfixed his stony gaze on Hal's face. "This is what you'll do with the'Clarion. ' You'll agree here and now to print nothing about this allegedepidemic. "

Hal turned upon him a silent but benign regard. The recollection of thatcontained smile lent an acid edge to the magnate's next speech. 

"You will further promise, " continued Pierce, "to quit all yourmuckraking of the business interests and business men of this town. "

Still Hal smiled. 

"And you will publish to-morrow a full retraction of the article aboutmy daughter and an ample apology for the attack upon me. "

The editorial expression did not change. 

"On those conditions, " Pierce concluded, "I will withdraw the criminalproceedings against you, but not the civil suit. The indictment will behanded down to-morrow. "

"I'm ready for it. "

"Are you ready for this? We have two unbiased witnesses--unbiased, mindyou--who will swear that the accident was Miss Cleary's own fault. And--" there was the hint of an evil smile on the thin lips, as theyreleased the final words very slowly--"and Miss Cleary's own affidavitto that effect. "

For the moment the words seemed a jumble to Hal. Meaning, dire anddisastrous, informed them, as he repeated them to himself. Providentially his telephone rang, giving him an excuse to go out. Hehurried over to McGuire Ellis. 

"I'm afraid it's right, Boss, " said the associate editor, after hearingHal's report. 

"But how can it be? I saw the whole thing. "

"E. M. Pierce is rich. The nurse is poor. That is, she has been poor. Lately I've had a man keeping tabs on her. Since leaving the hospital, she's moved into an expensive flat, and has splurged out into goodclothes. Whence the wherewithal?"

"Bribery!"

"Without a doubt. "

"Then Pierce has got us. "

"It looks so, " admitted Ellis sorrowfully. 

"But we can't give in, " groaned Hal. "It means the end of the 'Clarion. 'What is there to do?"

"Play for time, " advised the other. "Go back there with a stiff upperlip and tell 'em you won't be bulldozed or hurried. Then we'll have acouncil. "

"Suppose they demand an answer. "

"Refuse. See here, Hal. I know Pierce. He'd never give up his revenge, for any good he could do to the cause of the city by holding off the'Clarion' on this Old Home Week business if there weren't somethingelse. Pierce isn't built that way. That bargain offer is mightysuspicious. There's a weak spot in his case somewhere. Hold him off, andwe'll hunt for it. "

None could have guessed, from the young editor's bearing, on his return, that he knew himself to be facing a crucial situation. With the utmostnonchalance he insisted that he must have time for consideration. Influenced by Pierce, who was sure he had Hal beaten, the committeeinsisted on an immediate reply to their ultimatum. 

"You go up against this bunch, " advised Stensland, "and it's dollars todoughnuts the receiver'll have your 'Clarion' inside of six months. "

Hal leaned indolently against the door. "Speaking of dollars anddoughnuts, " he said, "I'd like to tell you gentlemen a little story. Youall know who Babson is, the biggest stock-market advertiser in thecountry. Well, Babson's vanity is to be a great man outside of his ownline. He owns a big country place down East, near the old town ofSingatuck; one of the oldest towns on the coast. Babson is as new asSingatuck is old. The people didn't care much about his patronizingways. Nevertheless, he kept doing things to 'brace the town up, ' as heput it. The town needed it. It was about bankrupt. The fire departmentwas a joke, the waterworks a farce, and the town hall a ruin. Babsonthought this gave him a chance to put his name on the map. So he said tohis local factotum, 'You go down to the meeting of the selectmen nextweek, shake a bagful of dollars in front of those old doughnuts, andmake 'em this proposition: I'll give five thousand dollars to the firedepartment, establish a water system, rebuild the town hall, pay off thetown debt and put ten thousand dollars into the treasury if they'llchange the name of the town from Singatuck to Babson. '

"The factotum went to the meeting and presented the proposition. NowSingatuck is proud of its age and character with a local pride that isquite beyond the Babson dollars or the Babson type of imagination. Hisproposition aroused no debate. There was a long silence. Then an oldmoss-farmer who hadn't had money enough to buy himself a new tooth fortwenty years arose and said: 'I move you, Mister Chairman, that thisbody thank Mr. Babson kindly for his offer and tell him to go to hell. '

"The motion was carried unanimously, and the meeting proceeded to theconsideration of other business. I cite this, gentlemen, merely asevidence that the disparity between the dollar and the doughnut isn't asgreat as some suppose. "

The third member of the committee, who had thus far spoken no word, peered curiously at Hal from above a hooked nose. He was Mintz, ofSheffler and Mintz. 

"Do I get you righd?" he observed mildly; "you're telling us to go wherethe selectmen sent Misder Babson. "

"Plumb, " replied Hal, with his most amiable expression. "So far as anyimmediate decision is concerned. "

"Less ged oud, " said Mr. Mintz to his colleagues. They got out. Mintzwas last to go. He came over to Hal. 

"I lyg your story, " he said. "I lyg to see a feller stand up for hisbizniz against the vorlt. I'm a Jew. I hope you lose--but--goot luck!"

He held out his hand. Hal took it. "Mr. Mintz, I'm glad to know you, "said he earnestly. 

Nothing now remained for the committee to do but to expend theirallotted fund to the best purpose. Their notion of the proper method wastypically commercial. They thought to buy off an epidemic. Many timesthis has been tried. Never yet has it succeeded. It embodies one of themost dangerous of popular hygienic fallacies, that the dollar canovertake and swallow the germ. 

CHAPTER XXIII

CREEPING FLAME

For sheer uncertainty an epidemic is comparable only to fire onshipboard. The wisest expert can but guess at the time or place of itscatastrophic explosion. It may thrust forth here and there a tongue ofthreat, only to subside and smoulder again. Sometimes it "sulks" for soprotracted a period that danger seems to be over. Then, without warning, comes swift disaster with panic in its train. 

But one man in all Worthington knew, early, the true nature of thedisease which quietly crept among the Rookeries licking up human life, and he was well trained in keeping his own counsel. In this crisis, whatever Dr. Surtaine may have lacked in scrupulosity of method, hisintentions were good. He honestly believed that he was doing well by hiscity in veiling the nature of the contagion. Scientifically he knewlittle about it save in the most general way; and his happy optimismbolstered the belief that if only secrecy could be preserved and thefair repute of the city for sound health saved, the trouble wouldpresently die out of itself. He looked to his committee to manage thesecrecy. Unfortunately this particular form of trouble hasn't the habitof dying out quietly and of itself. It has to be fought and slain in theopen. 

As Dr. Surtaine's committee hadn't the faintest notion of how to handletheir five-thousand-dollar appropriation, they naturally consulted theHonorable Tip O'Farrell, agent for and boss of the Rookeries. And as theHonorable Tip had a very definite and even eager notion of what might bedone with that amount of ready cash, he naturally volunteered to handlethe fund to the best advantage, which seemed quite reasonable, since hewas familiar with the situation. Therefore the disposition of the moneywas left to him. Do not, however, oh high-minded and honorable reader, be too ready to suppose that this was the end of the five thousanddollars, so far as the Rookeries are concerned. Politicians of theO'Farrell type may not be meticulous on points of finance. But they arequite likely to be human. Tip O'Farrell had seen recently more miserythan even his toughened sensibilities could uncomplainingly endure. Someof the fund may have gone into the disburser's pocket. A much greaterportion of it, I am prepared to affirm, was distributed in thoseintimate and effective forms of beneficence which, skillfully enoughmanaged, almost lose the taint of charity. O'Farrell was tactful and heknew his people. Many cases over which organized philanthropy would haveblundered sorely, were handled with a discretion little short ofinspired. Much wretchedness was relieved; much suffering and perhapssome lives saved. 

The main issue, nevertheless, was untouched. The epidemic continued tospread beneath the surface of silence. O'Farrell wasn't interested inthat side of it. He didn't even know what was the matter. What money heexpended on that phase of the difficulty was laid out in perfecting hissystem of guards, so that unauthorized doctors couldn't get in, orunauthorized news leak out. Also he continued to carry on an irregularbut costly traffic in dead bodies. Meantime, the Special Committee ofthe Old Home Week Organization, thus comfortably relieved ofresponsibility and the appropriation, could now devote itselfsingle-mindedly to worrying over the "Clarion. "

According to Elias M. Pierce, no mean judge of men, there was nothing toworry about in that direction. That snake, he considered, was scotched. It might take time for said snake, who was a young snake with a headfull of poison (his uncomplimentary metaphor referred, I need hardlystate, to Mr. Harrington Surtaine), to come to his serpentine senses;but in the end he must realize that he was caught. The committee wasn'tso smugly satisfied. Time was going on and there was no word, one way orthe other, from the "Clarion" office. 

Inside that office more was stirring than the head of it knew about. Ona warmish day, McGuire Ellis, seated at his open window, had permittedthe bland air of early June to lull him to a nap, which was rudelyinterrupted by the intrusion of a harsh point amongst his waistcoatbuttons. Stumbling hastily to his feet he confronted Dr. Miles Elliot. 

"Wassamatter?" he demanded, in the thick tones of interrupted sleep. "What are you poking me in the ribs for?"

"McBurney's point, " observed the visitor agreeably. "Now, if you hadappendicitis, you'd have yelped. You haven't got appendicitis. "

"Much obliged, " grumped Mr. Ellis. "Couldn't you tell me that without acane?"

"I spoke to you twice, but all you replied was 'Hoong!' As I speak onlythe Mandarin dialect of Chinese--"

"Sit down, " said Ellis, "and tell me what you're doing in this den ofvice and crime. "

"Vice and crime is correct, " confirmed the physician. "You're stillcuring cancer, consumption, corns, colds, and cramps in print, for bloodmoney. I've come to report. "

McGuire Ellis stared. "What on?"

"The Rookeries epidemic. "

"Quick work, " the journalist congratulated him sarcastically. "Theassignment is only a little over two months old. "

"Well, I might have guessed, any time in those two months, but I wantedto make certain. "

"_Are_ you certain?"

"Reasonably. "

"What is it?"

"Typhus. "

"What's that? Something like typhoid?"

"It bears about the same relation to typhoid, " said the Doctor, eyeingthe other with solemnity, "as housemaid's knee does to sunstroke. "

"Well, don't get funny with me. I don't appreciate it. Is it veryserious?"

"Not more so than cholera, " answered the Doctor gravely. 

"Hey! Then why aren't we all dead?"

"Because it doesn't spread so rapidly. Not at first, anyway. "

"How does it spread? Come on! Open up!"

"Probably by vermin. It's rare in this country. There was a smallepidemic in New York in the early nineties. It was discovered early andconfined to one tenement. There were sixty-three people in the tenementwhen they clapped on the quarantine. Thirty-two of 'em came out feetfirst. The only outside case was a reporter who got in and wrote adescriptive article. He died a week later. "

"Sounds as if this little affair of the Rookeries might be some story. "

"It is. There may have been fifty deaths to date; or maybe a hundred. Wedon't know. "

Ellis sat back in his chair with a bump. "Who's 'we'?"

"Dr. Merritt and myself. "

"The Health Bureau is on, then. What's Merritt going to do about it?"

"What can he do?"

"Give out the whole thing, and quarantine the district. "

"The Mayor will remove him the instant he opens his mouth, and kill anyquarantine. Merritt will be discredited in all the papers--unless the'Clarion' backs him. Will it?"

Ellis dropped his head in his hand. "I don't know, " he said finally. 

"Not running an honest paper this week?" sneered the physician lightly. "By the way, where's Young Hopeful?"

"See here, Dr. Elliot, " said Ellis. "You're a good old scout. If youhadn't poked me in the stomach I believe I'd tell you something. "

"Try it, " encouraged the other. 

"All right. Here it is. They've put it up to Hal Surtaine pretty stiff, this gang of perfectly honorable business men, leading citizens, pillarsof the church, porch-climbers, and pickpockets who run the city. I guessyou know who I mean. "

Dr. Elliot permitted himself a reserved grin. 

"All right. They've got him in a clove hitch. At least it looks so. Andone of the conditions for letting up on him is that he suppresses allnews of the epidemic. Then they'll have the 'Clarion' right wherethey've got every other local paper. "

"Nice town, Worthington, " observed Dr. Elliot, with easy but apparentlyirrelevant affability. 

But McGuire Ellis went red. "It's easy enough for you to sit there andbe righteous, " he said. "But get this straight. If the young Boss playsstraight and tells 'em all to go to hell, it'll be a close call of lifeor death for the paper. "

"And if he doesn't?"

"Easy going. Advertising'll roll in on us. Money'll come so fast wecan't dodge it. Are you so blame sure what _you'd_ do in thoseconditions?"

"Mac, " said the brusque physician, for the first time using the familiarname: "between man and man, now: _what_ about the boy?"

From the ancient loyalty of his race sprang McGuire Ellis's swift word, "My hand in the fire for any that loves him. "

"But--stanch, do you think?" persisted the other. 

"I hope it. "

"Well, I wish it was you owned the 'Clarion. '"

"Do you, now? I don't. How do _I_ know what I'd do?"

"Human lives, Mac: human lives, on this issue. "

"Who else knows it's typhus, Doc?"

"Nobody but Merritt and me. You bound me in confidence, you know. "

"Good man!"

"There's one other ought to know, though. "

"Who's that?"

"Norman Hale. "

"The Reverend Norman's all right. We could do with a few more ministerslike him around the place. But why, in particular, should he know?"

"For one thing, he suspects, anyway. Then, he's down in the slums theremost of the time, and he could help us. Besides, he's got some rights ofsafety himself. He's out in the reception room now, under guard of thatman-eating office boy of yours. "

"All right, if you say so. "

Accordingly the Reverend Norman Hale was summoned, sworn to confidence, and informed. He received the news with a quiver of his long, gauntfeatures. "I was afraid it was something like that, " he said. "What's tobe done?"

"I'll tell you my plan, " said Ellis, who had been doing some rapidthinking. "I'll put the best man in the office on the story, and givehim a week on it if necessary. How soon is the epidemic likely to break, Doctor?"

"God knows, " said the physician gravely. 

"Well, we'll hurry him as much as we can. Our reporter will workindependently. No one else on the staff will know what he's doing. I'llexpect you two and Dr. Merritt to give him every help. I'll handle thestory myself, at this end. And I'll see that it's set up in type by ourforeman, whom I can trust to keep quiet. Therefore, only six people willknow about it. I think we can keep the secret. Then, when I've got itall in shape, two pages of it, maybe, with all the facts, I'll pull aproof and hit the Boss right between the eyes with it. That'll fetchhim, I _think_. "

The others signified their approval. "But can't we do something in themean time?" asked Dr. Elliot. "A little cleaning-up, maybe? Who ownsthat pest-hole?"

"Any number of people, " said the clergyman. "It's very complicated, whatwith ground leases, agencies, and trusteeships. I dare say some of theowners don't even know that the property belongs to them. "

"One of the things we might find out, " said Ellis. "Might be interestingto publish. "

"I'll send you a full statement of what I got about the burials inCanadaga County, " promised Dr. Elliot. "Coming along, Mr. Hale?"

"No. I want to speak to Mr. Ellis about another matter. " The clergymanwaited until the physician had left and then said, "It's about MillyNeal. "

"Well, what about her?"

"I thought you could tell me. Or perhaps Mr. Surtaine. "

Remembering that encounter outside of the road house weeks before, Ellisexperienced a throb of misgiving. 

"Why Mr. Surtaine?" he demanded. 

"Because he's her employer. "

Ellis gazed hard at the young minister. He met a straight and clearregard which reassured him. 

"He isn't, now, " said he. 

"She's left?"

"Yes. "

"That's bad, " worried the clergyman, half to himself. 

"Bad for the paper. 'Kitty the Cutie' was a feature. "

"Why did she leave?"

"Just quit. Sent in word about ten days ago that she was through. Noexplanation. "

"Mr. Ellis, I'm interested in Milly Neal, " said the minister, after somehesitation. "She's helped me quite a bit with our club down here. There's a lot in that girl. But there's a queer, un-get-at-able streak, too. Do you know a man named Veltman?"

"Max? Yes. He's foreman of our composing-room. "

"She's been with him a great deal lately. "

"Why not? They're old friends. No harm in Veltman. "

"He's a married man. "

"That so! I never knew that. Well, 'Kitty the Cutie' ought to be keenenough to take care of herself. "

"There's the difficulty. She doesn't seem to want to take care ofherself. She's lost interest in the club. For a time she was drinkingheavily at some of the all-night places. And this news of her quittinghere is worst of all. She seemed so enthusiastic about the work. "

"Her job's open for her if she wants to come back. "

"Good! I'm glad to hear that. It gives me something to work on. "

"By the way, " said McGuire Ellis, "how do you like the paper?" Sooner orlater he put this question to every one with whom he came in contact. What he found out in this way helped to make him the journalistic experthe was. 

"Pretty well, " hesitated the other. 

"What's wrong with it?" inquired Ellis. 

"Well, frankly, some of your advertising. "

"We're the most independent paper in this town on advertising, " statedEllis with conviction. 

"I know you dropped the Sewing Aid Society advertisement, " admittedHale. "But you've got others as bad. Yes, worse. "

"Show 'em to me. "

Leaning forward to the paper on Ellis's desk, the visitor indicated the"copy" of Relief Pills. Ellis's brow puckered. 

"You're the second man to kick on that, " he said. "The other was adoctor. "

"It's a bad business, Mr. Ellis. It's the devil's own work. Isn't ithard enough for girls to keep straight, with all the temptations aroundthem, without promising them immunity from the natural results ofimmorality?"

"Those pills won't do the trick, " blurted Ellis. 

"They won't?" cried the other in surprise. 

"So doctors tell me. "

"Then the promise is all the worse, " said the clergyman hotly, "forbeing a lie. "

"Well, I have troubles enough over the news part of the paper, withoutcensoring the ads. When an advertiser tries to control news or editorialpolicy, I step in. Otherwise, I keep out. There's my platform. "

Hale nodded. "Let me know how I can help on the epidemic matter, " saidhe, and took his leave. 

"The trouble with really good people, " mused McGuire Ellis, "is thatthey always expect other people to be as good as they are. And _that's_expensive, " sighed the philosopher, turning back to his desk. 

While Ellis and his specially detailed reporter were working out thestory of the Rookeries epidemic in the light of Dr. Elliot'sinformation, Hal Surtaine, floundering blindly, sought a solution to hisproblem, which was the problem of his newspaper. Indeed, it meant, asfar as he could judge, the end of the "Clarion" in a few months, shouldhe decide to defy Elias M. Pierce. Against the testimony of the injurednurse, he could scarcely hope to defend the libel suits successfully. Even though the assessed damages were not heavy enough to wreck him, theloss of prestige incident to defeat would be disastrous. Moreover, there was the chance of imprisonment or a heavy fine on the criminalcharge. Furthermore, if he decided to print the account of the epidemic(always supposing that he could discover what it really was), practically every local advertiser would desert him in high dudgeon overthe consequent ruin of the centennial celebration. Was it better topublish an honest paper for the few months and die fighting, orcompromise for the sake of life, and do what good he might through theagency of a bound, controlled, and tremulous journalistic policy?

For the first time, now that the crisis was upon him, he realized to thefull how profoundly the "Clarion" had become part of his life. At theoutset, only the tool of a casual though fascinating profession, later, the lever of an expanding and increasing power, the paper had insensiblyintertwined with every fiber of his ambition. To a degree that startledhim he had come to think, feel, and hope in terms of thisthought-machine which he owned, which owned him. It had taken on for hima character; his own, yet more than his own and greater. For it spoke, not of his spirit alone, but with a composite voice; sometimes confused, inarticulate, only semi-expressive; again as with the tongues ofprophecy. His ship was beginning to find herself; to evolve, from theanarchic clamor of loose effort, a harmony and a personality. 

With the thought came a warm glow of loyalty to his fellow workers; tothe men who, knowing more than he knew, had yet accepted his ideals soeagerly and stood to them so loyally; to the spirit that had flashed tomeet his own at that first "Talk-It-Over" breakfast, and had never sinceflagged; to Ellis, the harsh, dogged, uncouth evangel, preaching hisstrange mission of honor; to Wayne, patient, silent, laborious, dependable; to young Denton, a "gentleman unafraid, " facing the threatsof E. M. Pierce; even to portly Shearson, struggling against such dismalodds for _his_ poor little principle of journalism--to make the paperpay. How could he, their leader, recant his doctrine before these men?

Yet--and the qualifying thought dashed cold upon his enthusiasm--whatdid the alternative imply for them? The almost certain loss of theirplaces. To be thrown into the street, a whole officeful of them, seekingjobs which didn't exist, on the collapse of the "Clarion. " Could he dothat to them? Did he not, at least, owe them a living? Some had come tothe "Clarion" from other papers, even from other cities, attracted byits enterprise, by its "ginger, " by the rumor of a fresh and higherstandard in journalism. What of them? For himself he had onlyreputation, ethical standard, the intangible matter of existence toconsider. For them it might be hunger and want. Here, indeed, was aconflicting ideal. 

His mind reverted to the things he had been able to get done, in the fewmonths of his editorial tenure; the success of some of his campaigns, the educational effect of them even where they had failed of theirdefinite object, as had the fight for the Consumers' League. One articlehad put the chief gambler of the city on the defensive to an extentwhich seriously crippled his business. Another had killed forever thevilest den in town, a saloon back-room where vicious women gathered inyoung boys and taught them to snuff cocaine, and had led to ananti-cocaine ordinance, which the saloon element, who instinctivelyresented any species of "reform" as a threat against business, opposed. Whereupon, Hal, in an editorial on the prohibition movement, had tartlypointed out that where the saloons were openly vaunting themselvesdisdainful of public decency, the public was in immediate process ofwiping out the saloons. Which citation of fact caused a cold chill topermeate the spines of the liquor interests, and led the large, sleekleader of that clan to make a surpassingly polite and friendly call uponHal, who, rather to his surprise, found that he liked the man very much. They had parted, indeed, on hearty terms and the understanding thatthere would be no further objection to the "coke-law" from the saloonkeepers. There wasn't. The liquor men kept faith. 

Though aiming at independence in politics, the "Clarion" had been drawninto a number of local political fights, and more than once had gonewrong in advocating an apparently useful measure only to find itselfserving some hidden politician's selfish ends. These same politicians, Hal came in time to learn, were not all bad, even the worst of them. Thetoughest and crookedest of the grafting aldermen felt a genuine interestand pride in his vice-sodden ward, and when the "Clarion" had helped toabate a notorious nuisance there, dropped in to see the editor. 

"Mr. Surtaine, " said he, chewing his cigar with some violence, "you andme ain't got much in common. You think I'm a grafter, and I think you'rea lily-finger. But I came to thank you just the same for helping us outover there. "

"Glad to help you out when I can, " said Hal, with his disarming smile:"or to fight you when I have to. "

"Shake, " said the heeler. "I guess we'll average down into pretty goodenemies. Lemme know whenever I can do you a turn. "

Then there was the electric light fight. Since the memory of manWorthington had paid the most exorbitant gas rate in the State. The"Clarion" set out to inquire why. So insistent was its thirst forinformation that the "Banner" and the "Telegram" took up the cudgels forthe public-spirited corporation which paid ten per cent dividends byovercharging the local public. Thereupon the "Clarion" pointed out thatthe president of the gas company was the second largest stockholder inthe "Telegram, " and that the local editorial writer of the "Banner"derived, for some unexplained reason, a small but steady income in theform of salary, from the gas company. This exposure was regarded asdistinctly "not clubby" by the newspaper fraternity in general: but thepublic rather enjoyed it, and made such a fuss over it that alegislative investigation was ordered. Meantime, by one of those curiousby-products of the journalistic output, the local university preservedto itself the services of its popular professor of political economy, who was about to be discharged for _lèse majesté_, in that he had heldup as an unsavory instance of corporate control, the Worthington GasCompany, several of whose considerable stockholders were members of theinstitution's board of trustees. The "Clarion" made loud and lamentablenoises about this, and the board reconsidered hastily. Louder and muchmore lamentable were the noises made by the president of the university, the Reverend Dr. Knight, a little brother of one of the richest andgreatest of the national corporations, in denunciation of the "Clarion":so much so, indeed, that they were published abroad, thereby giving thepaper much extensive free advertising. 

Pleasant memories, these, to Hal. Not always pleasant, perhaps, but atleast vividly interesting, the widely varying types with whom hisprofession had brought him into contact: McGuire Ellis, "Tip" O'Farrell, the Reverend Norman Hale, Dr. Merritt, Elias M. --

The mechanism of thought checked with a wrench. Pierce had it in hispower to put an end to all this. He must purchase the right to continue, and at Pierce's own price. But was the price so severe? After all, hecould contrive to do much; to carry on many of his causes; to help buildup a better and cleaner Worthington; to preserve a moiety of his power, at the sacrifice of part of his independence; and at the same time hispaper would make money, be successful, take its place among therecognized business enterprises of the town. As for the Rookeriesepidemic upon which all this turned, what did he really know of it, anyway? Very likely it had been exaggerated. Probably it would die outof itself. If lives were endangered, that was the common chance of aslum. 

Then, of a sudden, memory struck at his heart with the thrust of a morevital, more personal, dread. For one day, wandering about in thestricken territory, he had seen Esmé Elliot entering a tenement doorway. 

CHAPTER XXIV

A FAILURE IN TACTICS

Miss Eleanor Stanley Maxwell Elliot, home from her wanderings, stretchedher hammock and herself in it between two trees in a rose-sweet nook atGreenvale, and gave herself up to a reckoning of assets and liabilities. Decidedly the balance was on the wrong side. Miss Esmé could not dodgethe unseemly conclusion that she was far from pleased with herself. Thiswas perhaps a salutary frame of mind, but not a pleasant one. Ifpossible, she was even less pleased with the world in which she lived. And this was neither salutary nor pleasant. Furthermore, it was uniquein her experience. Hitherto she had been accustomed to a universe madeto her order and conducted on much the same principle. Now it no longerran with oiled smoothness. 

Her trip on the Pierce yacht had been much less restful than she hadanticipated. For this she blamed that sturdy knight of the law, Mr. William Douglas. Mr. Douglas's offense was that he had inveigled herinto an engagement. (I am employing her own term descriptive of thetransaction. ) It was a crime of brief duration and swift penalty. Therelation had endured just four weeks. Possibly its tenure of life mighthave been longer had not the young-middle-aged lawyer accepted, quitenaturally, an invitation to join the cruise of the Pierce family and_his fiancée_. The lawyer's super-respectful attitude toward hisprincipal client disgusted Esmé. She called it servile. 

For contrast she had the memory of another who had not been servile, even to his dearest hope. There were more personal contrasts of memory, too; subtler, more poignant, that flushed in her blood and made themere presence of her lover repellent to her. The status becameunbearable. Esmé ended it. In plain English, she jilted the highlyeligible Mr. William Douglas. To herself she made the defense that hewas not what she had thought, that he had changed. This was unjust. Hehad not changed in the least; he probably never would change from beingthe private-secretary type of lawyer. Toward her, in his time of trial, he behaved not ill. Justifiably, he protested against her decision. Finding her immovable, he accepted the prevailing Worthingtonian theoryof Miss Elliot's royal prerogative as regards the male sex, andreturned, miserably enough, to his home and his practice. 

Another difficulty had arisen to make distasteful the Piercehospitality. Kathleen Pierce, in a fit of depression foreign to herusually blithe and easy-going nature, had become confidential and hadblurted out certain truths which threw a new and, to Esmé, disconcertinglight upon the episode of the motor accident. In her first appeal toEsmé, it now appeared, the girl had been decidedly less than frank. Therefore, in her own judgment of Hal and the "Clarion, " Esmé had beendecidedly less than just. In her resentment, Esmé had almost quarreledwith her friend. Common honesty, she pointed out, required a statementto Harrington Surtaine upon the point. Would Kathleen write such aletter? No! Kathleen would not. In fact, Kathleen would be d-a-m-n-e-d, darned, if she would. Very well; then it remained only (this ratherloftily) for Esmé herself to explain to Mr. Surtaine. Later, she decidedto explain by word of mouth. This would involve her return toWorthington, which she had come to long for. She had become sensible ofa species of homesickness. 

In some ill-defined way Harrington Surtaine was involved in thatnostalgia. Not that she had any desire to see him! But she felt acertain justifiable curiosity--she was satisfied that it wasjustifiable--to know what he was doing with the "Clarion, " since herestablished sphere of influence had ceased to be influential. Was hereally as unyielding in other tests of principle as he had shown himselfwith her? Already she had altered her attitude to the extent ofadmitting that it _was_ principle, even though mistaken. Esmé had beensubscribing to the "Clarion, " and studying it; also she had written, withal rather guardedly, to sundry people who might throw light on thesubject; to her uncle, to Dr. Hugh Merritt, her old and loyal friendlargely by virtue of being one of the few young men of the place whonever had been in love with her (he had other preoccupations), to youngDenton the reporter, who was a sort of cousin, and to Mrs. FestusWillard, who, alone of the correspondents, suspected the underlyingmotive. From these sundry informants she garnered diverse opinions; thesum and substance of which was that, on the whole, Hal was fighting thegood fight and with some success. Thereupon Esmé hated him harder thanbefore--and with considerably more difficulty. 

On a late May day she had slipped quietly back into Worthington. Thatsmall portion of the populace which constituted Worthington society wasready to welcome her joyously. But she had no wish to be joyouslywelcomed. She didn't feel particularly joyous, herself. And societymeant going to places where she would undoubtedly meet Will Douglas andwould probably not meet Hal Surtaine. Esmé confessed to herself thatDouglas was rather on her conscience, a fact which, in itself, markedsome change of nature in the Great American Pumess. She decided thatsociety was a bore. For refuge she turned to her interest in the slums, where the Reverend Norman Hale, for whom she had a healthy, honestrespect and liking, was, so she learned, finding his hands rather morethan full. Always an enthusiast in her pursuits, she now threw herselfinto this to the total exclusion of all other interests. 

To herself she explained this on the theory that she needed somethingto occupy her mind. Something _else_ she really meant, for Mr. Harrington Surtaine was now occupying it to an inexcusable extent. Shewished very much to see Harrington Surtaine, and, for the first time inher life, she feared what she wished. What she had so loftily announcedto Kathleen Pierce as her unalterable determination toward the editor ofthe "Clarion" wasn't as easy to perform as to promise. Yet, theexplanation of the partial error, into which the self-excusatory MissPierce had led her, was certainly due him, according to her notions offair play. If she sent for him to come, he would, she shrewdly judged, decline. The alternative was to beard him in his office. In thestrengthening and self-revealing solitude of her garden, this glowingsummer day, Esmé sat trying to make up her mind. A daring brownthrasher, his wings a fair match for the ruddy-golden glow in the girl'seyes, hopped into her haunt, and twittered his counsel of courage. 

"I'll do it NOW, " said Esmé, and the bird, with a triumphant chirp ofcongratulation, swooped off to tell the news to the world of wings andflowers. 

To the consequent interview there was no witness. So it may best bechronicled in the report made by the interviewer to her friend Mrs. Festus Willard, who, in the cool seclusion of her sewing-room, wasoverwhelmed by a rush of Esmé to the heart, as she put it. Not havingbeen apprised of Miss Elliot's conflicting emotions since her departure, Mrs. Willard's mind was as a page blank for impressions when her visitorburst in upon her, pirouetted around the room, appropriated the softestcorner of the divan, and announced spiritedly:

"You needn't ask me where I've been, for I won't tell you; or what I'vebeen doing, for it's my own affair; anyway, you wouldn't be interested. And if you insist on knowing, I've been revisiting the pale glimpses ofthe moon--at three o'clock P. M. "

"What do you mean, moon?" inquired Mrs. Willard, unconsciously fallinginto a pit of slang. 

"The moon we all cry for and don't get. In this case a haughty youngeditor. "

"You've been to see Hal Surtaine, " deduced Mrs. Willard. 

"You have guessed it--with considerable aid and assistance. "

"What for?"

"On a matter of journalistic import, " said Miss Elliot solemnly. 

"But you don't cry for Hal Surtaine, " objected her friend, reverting tothe lunar metaphor. 

"Don't I? I'd have cried--I'd have burst into a perfect storm oftears--for him--or you--or anybody who so much as pointed a finger atme, I was so scared. "

"Scared? You! I don't believe it. "

"I don't believe it myself--now, " confessed Esmé, candidly. "But it feltmost extremely like it at the time. "

"You know I don't at all approve of--"

"Of me. I know you don't, Jinny. Neither does he. "

"What did you do to him?"

"Me? I cooed at him like a dove of peace. 

 "But he was very stiff and proud He said, 'You needn't talk so loud, '"

chanted Miss Esmé mellifluously. 

"He didn't!"

"Well, if he didn't, he meant it. He wanted to know what the big, bigD-e-v, dev, I was doing there, anyway. "

"Norrie Elliot! Tell me the truth. "

"Very well, " said Miss Elliot, aggrieved. "_You_ report theconversation, then, since you won't accept my version. "

"If you would give me a start--"

"Just what he wouldn't do for me, " interrupted Esmé. "I went in thereto explain something and he pointed the finger of scorn at me andaccused me of frequenting low and disreputable localities. "

"Norrie!"

"Well, " replied the girl brazenly, "he said he'd seen me about theRookeries district; and if that isn't a low--"

"Had he?"

"Nothing more probable, though I didn't happen to see him there. "

"What were you doing there?"

"Precisely what he wanted to know. He said it rather as if he owned theplace. So I explained in words of one syllable that I went there to pickedelweiss from the fire escapes. Jinny, dear, you don't know how hard itis to crowd 'edelweiss' into one syllable until you've tried. Itsplutters. "

"So do you, " said the indignant Mrs. Willard. "You do worse; you gibber. If you weren't just the prettiest thing that Heaven ever made, some onewould have slain you long ago for your sins. "

"Pretty, yourself, " retorted Esmé. "My real charm lies in my rigidadherence to the spirit of truth. Your young friend Mr. Surtaine scornedmy floral jest. He indicated that I ought not to be about the tenements. He said there was a great deal of sickness there. That was why I wasthere, I explained politely. Then he said that the sickness might becontagious, and he muttered something about an epidemic and then lookedas if he wished he hadn't. "

"I've heard some talk of sickness in the Rookeries. Ought you to begoing there?" asked the other anxiously. 

"Mr. Surtaine thinks not. Quite severely. And in elderly tones. Naturally I asked him what kind of an epidemic it was. He said he didn'tknow, but he was sure the place was dangerous, and he was surprised thatUncle Guardy hadn't warned me. Uncle Guardy _had_, but I don't doeverything I'm warned about. So then I asked young Mr. Editor why, as heknew there was a dangerous epidemic about, he should warn little meprivately instead of warning the big public, publicly. "

"Meddlesome child! Can you never learn to keep your hands off?"

"I was spurring him to his editorial duties. 

 "But he was very proud and stiff . . . He said that he would tell me, if--"

lilted Miss Esmé, rising to do a _pas seul_ upon the Willards' pricelessAnatolian rug. 

"Sit down, " commanded her hostess. "If--what?"

"If nothing. Just if. That's the end of the song. Don't you know yourLewis Carroll?

 "I sent a message to the fish, I told them, 'This is what I wish. ' The little fishes of the sea, They sent an answer--"

"I don't want to know about the fish, " disclaimed Mrs. Willardvehemently. "I want to know what happened between you and Hal Surtaine. "

"And you the Vice-President of the Poetry Club!" reproached Esmé. "Verywell. He was very proud and--Oh, I said that before. But he really was, this time. He said, 'Our last discussion of the policy of the "Clarion"closed that topic between us. ' Somebody called him away before I couldthink of anything mean and superior enough to answer, and when he cameback--always supposing he isn't still hiding in the cellar--I was nolonger present. "

"Then you didn't give him the message you went for. "

"No. Didn't I say I was scared?"

Mrs. Willard excused herself, ostensibly to speak to a maid; in realityto speak to a telephone. On her return she made a frontal attack:--

"Norrie, what made you break your engagement to Will Douglas?"

"Why? Don't you approve?"

"Did you break it for the same reason that drove you into it?"

"What reason do you think drove me into it?"

"Hal Surtaine. "

"He didn't!" she denied furiously. 

"And you didn't break it because of him?"

"No! I broke it because I don't want to get married, " cried the girl ina rush of words. "Not to Will Douglas. Or to--to anybody. Why should I?I don't want to--I won't, " she continued, half laughing, half sobbing, "go and have to bother about running a house and have a lot of babiesand lose my pretty figure--and get fat--and dowdy--and slow-poky--andold. Look at Molly Vane: twins already. She's a horrible example. Why dopeople always have to have children--"

She stopped, abruptly, herself stricken at the stricken look in theother's face. "Oh, Jinny, darling Jinny, " she gasped; "I forgot! Yourbaby. Your little, dead baby! I'm a fool; a poor little silly fool, chattering of realities that I know nothing about. "

"You will know some day, my dear, " said the other woman, smilingvaliantly. "Don't deny the greatest reality of all, when it comes. Areyou sure you're not denying it now?"

The sunbeams crept and sparkled, like light upon ruffled waters, acrossEsmé's obstinately shaken head. 

"Perhaps you couldn't help hurting him. But be sure you aren't hurtingyourself, too. "

"That's the worst of it, " said the girl, with one of her sudden accessesof sweet candor. "I needn't have hurt him at all. I was stupid. " Shepaused in her revelation. "But he was stupider, " she declaredvindictively; "so it serves him right. "

"How was he stupider?"

"He thought, " said Esmé with sorrowful solemnity, "that I was just asbad as I seemed. He ought to have known me better. "

The older woman bent and laid a cheek against the sunny hair. "Andweren't you just as bad as you seemed?"

"Worse! Anyway, I'm afraid so, " said the confessional voice, rathermuffled in tone. "But I--I just got led into it. Oh, Jinny, I'm notawfully happy. "

Mrs. Willard's head went up and she cocked an attentive ear, like anexpectant robin. "Some one outside, " said she. "I'll be back in amoment. You sit there and think it over. "

Esmé curled back on the divan. A minute later she heard the curtainspart at the end of the dim room, and glanced up with a smile, to face, not Jeannette Willard, but Hal Surtaine. 

"You 'phoned for me, Lady Jinny, " he began: and then, with a start, "Esmé! I--I didn't expect to find you here. "

"Nor I to see you, " she said, with a calmness that belied her beatingheart. "Sit down, please. I have something to tell you. It's what Ireally came to the office to say. "

"Yes?"

"About Kathleen Pierce. "

Hal frowned. "Do you think there can be any use--"

"Please, " she begged, with uplifted eyes of entreaty. "She--she didn'ttell me the truth about that interview with your reporter. It was true;but she made me think it wasn't. She confessed to me, and she feels verybadly. So do I. I believed that you had deliberately made that up, abouther saying that she didn't turn back because she wanted to catch atrain. I believed, too, that the editorial was written after our--ourtalk. I'm sorry. "

Hal stood above her, looking rather stern, and a little old and worn, she thought. 

"If that is an apology, it is accepted, " he said with surfacepoliteness. 

To him she was, in that moment, a light-minded woman apologizing for thepetty misdeed, and paying no heed to the graver wrong that she had donehim. Jeannette Willard could have set him right in a word; could haveshown him what the girl felt, unavowedly to herself but with underlyingconviction, that for so great an offense no apology could suffice;nothing short of complete surrender. But Mrs. Willard was not there tohelp out. She was waiting hopefully, outside. 

"And that is all?" he said, after a pause, with just a shade of contemptin his voice. 

"All, " she said lightly, "unless you choose to tell me how the 'Clarion'is getting on. "

"As well as could be expected. We pay high for our principles. But thusfar we've held to them. You should read the paper. "

"I do. "

"To expect your approval would be too much, I suppose. "

"No. In many ways I like it. In fact, I think I'll renew mysubscription. "

It was innocently said, without thought of the old playful bargainbetween them, which had terminated with the mailing of the witheredarbutus. But to Hal it seemed merely a brazen essay in coquetry; anattempt to reconstitute the former relation, for her amusement. 

"The subscription lists are closed, on the old terms, " he said crisply. 

"Oh, you couldn't have thought I meant that!" she whispered; but he wasalready halfway down the room, on the echo of his "Good-afternoon, MissElliot. "

As before, he turned at the door. And he carried with him, to muse overin the depths of his outraged heart once more, the mystery of that stilland desperate smile. Any woman could have solved it for him. Any, except, possibly, Esmé Elliot. 

"It didn't come out as I hoped, Festus, " said the sorrowful little Mrs. Willard to her husband that evening. "I don't know that Hal will everbelieve in her again. How can he be so--so stupidly unforgiving!"

"Always the man's fault, of course, " said her big husband comfortably. 

"No. She's to blame. But it's the fault of men in general that Norrie iswhat she is; the men of this town, I mean. No man has ever been a manwith Norrie Elliot. "

"What have they been?"

"Mice. It's a tradition of the place. They lie down in rows for her totrample on. So of course she tramples on them. "

"Well, I never trampled on mice myself, " observed Festus Willard. "Itsounds like uncertain footing. But I'll bet you five pounds of yourfavorite candy against one of your very best kisses, that if sheundertakes to make a footpath of Hal Surtaine she'll get her feet hurt. "

"Or her heart, " said his wife. "And, oh, Festus dear, it's such a real, warm, dear heart, under all the spoiled-childness of her. "

CHAPTER XXV

STERN LOGIC

Between Dr. Surtaine and his son had risen a barrier built up ofreticences. At the outset of their reunion, they had chattered like apair of schoolboy friends, who, after long separation, must rehearse toeach other the whole roster of experiences. The Doctor was an enthusiastof speech, glowingly loquacious above knife and fork, and the dinnerhours were enlivened for his son by his fund of far-gathered businessincidents and adventures, pointed with his crude but apt philosophy, andirradiated with his centripetal optimism. He possessed and was consciousof this prime virtue of talk, that he was never tiresome. Yet recentlyhe had noted a restlessness verging to actual distaste on Hal's part, whenever he turned the conversation upon his favorite topic, thegreatness of Certina and the commercial romance of the proprietarymedicine business. 

In his one close fellowship, the old quack cultivated even the minor andfiner virtues. With Hal he was scrupulously tactful. If the boy found_his_ business an irksome subject, he would talk about the boy'sbusiness. And he did, sounding the Pæan of Policy across the Surtainemahogany in a hundred variations supported by a thousand instances. Buthere, also, Hal grew restive. He responded no more willingly to leads onjournalism than to encomiums of Certina. Again the affectionate diplomatchanged his ground. He dropped into the lighter personalities; chattedto Hal of his new friends, and was met halfway. But in secret he puzzledand grieved over the waning of frankness and freedom in theirintercourse. Dinner, once eagerly looked forward to by both as the besthour of the day, was now something of an ordeal, a contact in whicheach must move warily, lest, all unknowing, he bruise the other. 

Of the underlying truth of the situation Dr. Surtaine had no inkling. Had any one told him that his son dared neither speak nor hearunreservedly, lest the gathering suspicions about his father, againstwhich he was fighting while denying to himself their very existence, should take form and substance of unescapable facts, the Doctor wouldhave failed utterly of comprehension. He ascribed Hal's unease andpreoccupation to a more definite cause. Sedulous in everything whichconcerned his "Boyee, " he had learned something of the affair with EsméElliot, and had surmised distressfully how hard the blow had been: butwhat worried him much more were rumors connecting Hal's name with MillyNeal. Several people had seen the two on the day of the road-houseadventure. Milly, with her vivid femininity was a natural mark forgossip. The mere fact that she had been in Hal's runabout was enough toset tongues wagging. Then, sometime thereafter, she had resigned herposition in the "Clarion" office without giving any reason, so Dr. Surtaine understood. The whole matter looked ugly. Not that thecharlatan would have been particularly shocked had Hal exhibited acertain laxity of morals in the matter of women. For this sort ofoffense Dr. Surtaine had an easy toleration, so long as it was keptdecently under cover. But that his son should become entangled with oneof his--Dr. Surtaine's--employees, a woman under the protection of hisroof, even though it were but the factory roof--that, indeed, would be ashock to his feudal conception of business honor. 

Such dismal considerations the Doctor had suppressed during an unusuallyuncomfortable dinner, on a hot and thunder-breeding evening when both ofthe Surtaines had painfully talked against time. Immediately after themeal, Hal, on pretext of beating the storm to the office, left. Hisfather took his forebodings to the club and attempted to lose themalong with several rubbers of absent-minded bridge. Meantime the womanfor whom his loyalty was concerned as well as for his son, wasstimulating a resolution with the slow poison of liquor around thecorner from the "Clarion" office. 

Nine P. M. Is slack tide in a morning newspaper office. The afternoonnews is cleared up; the night wires have not yet begun to buzz withouter-world tidings of importance; the reporters are still afield on theevening's assignments. As the champion short-distance sleeper of hiscraft, which distinction he claimed for himself without fear ofsuccessful contradiction, McGuire Ellis was wont to devote half an houror more, beginning on the ninth stroke of the clock, to the cultivationof Morpheus. Intruders were not popular at that hour. 

To respect for this habitude, Reginald Currier, known to mortals as Bim, Guardian of the Sacred Gates, had been rigorously educated. But Bim hada creed of his own which mollified the rigidity of specific standards, and one tenet thereof was the apothegm, "Once a 'Clarion' man, always a'Clarion' man, " the same applying to women. Therefore, when Milly Nealappeared at the gate at 9. 05 in the evening, the Cerberus greeted herprofessionally with a "How goes it, Miss Cutie?" and passed her inwithout question. She went straight to the inner office. 

"Hoong!" grunted McGuire Ellis, rubbing his eyes in a desperate endeavorto disentangle dreams from actualities. "What are _you_ doing here?"

"I want to see Mr. Surtaine. "

Something in the girl's aspect put Ellis on his guard. "What do you wantto see him about?" he asked. 

"I don't see any Examination Bureau license pinned to you, Ellis, " sheretorted hardily. 

"The Boss is out. "

"I don't believe it. "

"All right, " said McGuire Ellis equably. "I'm a liar. "

"Then you're the proper man for a 'Clarion' job, " came the savageretort. 

"Come off, Kitty. Don't be young!"

"I want to see Hal Surtaine, " she said with sullen insistence. 

Shaking himself out of his chair, the associate editor started acrossthe room to the telephone at Hal's desk, but halted sharply in front ofthe girl. 

"You've been drinking, " he said. 

"What's it to you if I have?"

The man's hand fell on her shoulder. There was no familiarity in theact; only comradeship. Comradeship in the voice, also, and concern, ashe said, "Cut it, Neal, cut it. There's nothing in it. You're too goodstuff to throw yourself away on that. "

"Don't you worry about me. " She shook off his hand, and seated herself. 

"Still working at the Certina joint?"

"No. I'm not working. "

"See here, Neal: what made you quit us?"

The girl withheld speech back of tight-pressed lips. 

"Oh, well, never mind that. The point is, we miss you. We miss the'Cutie' column. It was good stuff. We want you back. "

Still silence. 

"And I guess you miss us. You liked the job, didn't you?"

The girl gazed past him with ashen eyes. "Oh, my God!" she said underher breath. 

"Your job back and no questions asked, " pursued Ellis, with an outercheerfulness which cost him no small effort in the face of his growingconviction of some tragic issue pending. 

Now she looked directly at him, and there was a flicker of flame in herregard. 

"Do you know what a Hardscrabbler is, Ellis?" she asked. 

The other rubbed his head in puzzlement. "I don't believe I do, " heconfessed. 

"Then you won't understand when I tell you that I'm one and that I'd seeyour 'Clarion' blazing in hell before I'd take another cent of yourmoney. " The fire died from her face, and in her former tone of dulledstolidity she repeated, "I want to see Mr. Surtaine. "

With every word uttered, McGuire Ellis's forebodings had grown darker. That Hal Surtaine, carried away by the girl's vividness and allure, might have involved himself in a _liaison_ with her was credible enough. He recalled the episode of the road-house, on that stormy spring day. That Hal would have deserted her afterward, Ellis could not believe. Andyet--and yet--why otherwise should she come with the marks of fiercemisery in her face, demanding an interview at this time? On one pointEllis's mind was swiftly made up: she should not see Hal. 

"Miss Neal, " he said quietly, "you can sit there all night, but youcan't see the Boss unless you tell me your errand. "

The girl rose, slowly. "Oh, I guess you all stand together here, " shesaid. "Well, remember: I gave him his chance to square himself. "

When Hal came up from a visit to the new press half an hour later, Ellishad decided to say nothing of the call. Later, he must have it out withhis employer, for the sake of both of them and of the "Clarion. " But itwas an ordeal which he was glad to postpone. Nothing more, he judged, was to be feared that night, from Milly Neal; he could safely sleep overthe problem. Having a certain sufficient religion of his own, McGuireEllis still believes that a merciful Heaven forgives us our sins; but, looking back on that evening's decision, he sometimes wonders whether itever fully pardons our mistakes. 

While he sat reading proof on the status of a flickering foreign war, the Hardscrabbler's daughter, in a quiet back room farther down theblock, slowly sipped more gin; and gin is fire and fury to theHardscrabbler blood. 

At eleven o'clock that evening, Dr. Surtaine, returning to that massivehybrid of architecture which he called home, found Milly Neal waiting inhis study. 

"Well, Milly: what's up?" he asked, cheerfully enough in tone, but witha sinking heart. 

"I want to know what you're going to do for me?"

"Something wrong?"

"You've got a right to know. I'm in trouble. "

"What kind of trouble?"

"The kind you make money out of with your Relief Pills. "

"Milly! Milly!" cried the quack, in honest distress. "I wouldn't havebelieved it of you. "

"Yes: it's terrible, isn't it!" mocked the girl. "What are you going todo about it? It's up to you. "

"Up to me?" queried the Doctor, bracing himself for what was coming. 

"Don't you promise, with your Relief Pills to get women out of trouble?"

Dr. Surtaine's breath came a little easier. Perhaps she was not going toforce the issue upon him by mentioning Hal. If this were diplomacy, hewould play the game. 

"Certainly not! Certainly not!" he protested with a scandalized air. "We've never made such a claim. It would be against the law. "

"Look at this. " She held up in her left hand a clipping, showing aline-cut of a smiling woman, over the caption "A Happy Lady"; andannouncing in wide print, "Every form of suppression relieved. The mostobstinate cases yield at once. Thousands of once desperate women blessthe name of Relief Pills. "

"I don't want to look at it, " said the Doctor. 

"No, I guess you don't! It's from the 'Clarion, ' that clipping. And theNeverfail Company that makes the fake abortion pills is _you_. "

"It doesn't mean--that. You've misread it. "

"It _does_ mean just that to every poor, silly fool of a girl that readsit. What else can it mean? 'The most obstinate cases'--"

"Don't! Don't!" There was a pause, then:

"Of course, you can't stay in the Certina factory after this. "

A bitter access of mirth seized the girl. The sound of it

 "rang cracked and thin, Like a fiend's laughter, heard in Hell, Far down. "

"Of course!" she mocked. "The pious and holy Dr. Surtaine couldn't havean employee who went wrong. Not even though it was his lies that helpedtempt her. "

"Don't try to put it off on me. You are suffering for your own sin, mygirl, " accused the quack. 

"I'll stand my share of it; the suffering and the disgrace, if there isany. But you've got to stand your share. You promised to get me out ofthis and I believed you. "

"_I_! Promised to--"

"In plain print. " She tossed the clipping at him with her left hand. Theother she held in her lap, under a light wrap which she carried. "And Ibelieved you. I thought you were square. Then when the pills didn'thelp, I went to a doctor, and he laughed and said they were nothing butsugar and flavoring. He wouldn't help me. He said no decent doctorwould. _You_ ain't a decent doctor. You're a lying devil. Are you goingto help me out?"

"If you had come in a proper spirit--"

"That's enough. I've got my answer. " She rose slowly to her feet. "AfterI found out what was wrong with me, I went home to my father. I didn'ttell him about myself. But I told him I was quitting the Certinabusiness. And he told me about my mother, how you sent her to her death. One word from me would have brought him here after you. _This_ time hewouldn't have missed you. Then they'd have hung him, I suppose. That'swhy I held my tongue. You killed my mother, you and your quackmedicines; and now you've done this to me. " Her hand jerked up out ofthe wrap. "I don't see where you come in to live any longer, " said MillyNeal deliberately. 

Dr. Surtaine looked into the muzzle of a revolver. 

There was a step on the soft rug outside, the curtain of the door to Dr. Surtaine's right parted, and Hal appeared. He carried a light stick. 

"I thought I heard--" he began. Then, seeing the revolver, "What's this!Put that down!"

"Don't move, either of you, " warned the girl. "I haven't said my sayout. You're a fine-matched pair, you two! Him with his sugar-pills andyou, Hal Surtaine, with your lying promises. "

Lying promises! The phrase, thus used in the girl's mouth against theson, struck to the father's heart, confirming his dread. It _was_ Hal, then. For the moment he forgot his instant peril, in his sorrow andshame. 

"I don't know why I shouldn't kill you both, " went on the half-crazedgirl. "That'd even the score. Two Surtaines against two Neals, my motherand me. "

The light of slaying was in her eyes, as she stiffened her arm. Just afraction of an inch the arm swerved, for a streak of light was dartingtoward her. Hal had taken the only chance. He had flung his cane, whirling, in the hope of diverting her aim, and had followed it at aleap. 

The two shots were almost instantaneous. At the second, the quack reeledback against the wall. The girl turned swiftly upon Hal, and as heseized her he felt the cold steel against his neck. The touch seemed toparalyze him. Strangely enough, the thought of death was summed up in avast, regretful curiosity to know why all this was happening. Then theweapon fell. 

"I can't kill _you_!" cried the girl, in a bursting sob, and fell, facedown, upon the floor. 

Hal, snatching up the revolver, ran to his father. 

"I'm all right, " declared the quack. "Only the shoulder. Just winged. Get me a drink from that decanter. "

His son obeyed. With swift, careful hands he got the coat off thebulky-muscled arm, and saw, with a heart-lifting relief, that the bullethad hardly more than grazed the flesh. Meantime the girl had crawled, still sobbing, to a chair. 

"Did I kill him?" she asked, covering her eyes against what she mightsee. 

"No, " said Hal. 

"Listen, " commanded Dr. Surtaine. "Some one's coming. Keep quiet. " Hewalked steadily to the door and called out, "It's nothing. Justexperimenting with a new pistol. Go back to your bed. "

"Who was it?" asked Hal. 

"The housekeeper. There's just one thing to do for the sake of all ofus. This has _got_ to be hushed up. I'm going out to telephone. Don'tlet her get away, Hal. "

"Get away! Oh, my God!" breathed the girl. 

Hal walked over to her, his heart wrung with pity. 

"Why did you come here to kill my father, Milly?" he asked. 

She stooped to pick up the "Happy Lady" clipping from the floor. 

"That's why, " she said. 

"Good God!" said Hal. "Have you been taking that--those pills?"

"Taking 'em? Yes, and believing in 'em, till I found out it was alldamned lies. And your fine and noble and honest 'Clarion' advertises thelies just as your fine and noble and honest father makes the pills. They're no good. Do you get that? And when I came here and told yourfather he'd got to help me out of my trouble, what do you think he toldme? That I'd lost my job at the factory!"

"Who is the man, Milly?"

"What business is that of yours?"

"I'll go after him and see that he marries you if it takes--"

"Oh, he'd be only too glad to marry me if he could. He can't. Poor Maxhas got a wife somewhere--"

"Max? It's Veltman!" cried Hal. "The dirty scoundrel. "

"Oh, don't blame Max, " said the girl wearily. "It isn't his fault. Afteryou threw me down"--Hal winced--"I started to run wild. It's theHardscrabbler in me. I took to drinking and running around, and Maxpulled me out of it, and I went to live with him. I didn't care. Nothingmattered, anyway. And I wasn't afraid of anything like this happening, because I thought the pills made it all safe. "

Here Dr. Surtaine reappeared. "I've got a detective coming that I cantrust. "

"A detective?" cried Hal. "Oh, Dad--"

"You keep out of this, " retorted his father, in a tone such as his sonhad never heard from him before. "I guess you've done enough. Thequestion is"--he continued as regardless of Milly as if she had beendeaf--"how to hush her up. "

"You've had your chance to hush me up, " said the girl sullenly. 

"Any money within reason--"

"I don't want your money. "

"Listen here, then. You tried to murder me. That's ten years in State'sprison. Now, if ever I hear of you opening your mouth about this, I'llsend you up. I guess that will keep you quiet. Now, then, what's youranswer?"

"Give me a glass of whiskey, and I'll tell you. "

Hal poured her out a glass. She passed a swift hand above it. 

"Here's peace and quiet in the proprietary medicine business, " she said, and drank. "I guess that'll--make--some--stir, " she added, with aneffect of carefully timing her words. 

Her body lapsed quite gently back into the chair. The two men ran andbent over her as the glass tinkled and rolled on the floor. There was anacrid, bitter scent in the air. They lifted their heads, and their eyesmet in a haggard realization. No longer was there any need of hushing upMilly Neal. 

CHAPTER XXVI

THE PARTING

The doorbell buzzed. 

"That's the detective, " said Dr. Surtaine to Hal. "Stay here. "

He wormed himself painfully into an overcoat which concealed hisscarified shoulder, and went out. In a few moments he and the officerreappeared. The latter glanced at the body. 

"Heart disease, you say?" he asked. 

"Yes: valvular lesion. "

"Better 'phone the coroner's office, eh?"

"Not necessary. I can give a certificate. The coroner will be allright, " said Dr. Surtaine, with an assurance derived from the fact thata year before he had given that functionary five hundred dollars for notfinding morphine in the stomach of a baby who had been dosed to death onthe "Sure Soother" powders. 

"That goes, " agreed the detective. "What undertaker?"

"Any. And, Murtha, while you're at the 'phone, call up the 'Clarion'office and tell McGuire Ellis to come up here on the jump, will you?"

Left to themselves, with the body between them, father and son fell intoa silence, instinct with the dread of estranging speech. Hal made thefirst effort. 

"Your shoulder?" he said. 

"Nothing, " declared the Doctor. "Later on will do for that. " He broodedfor a time. "You can trust Ellis, can you?"

"Absolutely. "

"It's the newspapers we have to look out for. Everything else is easy. "

He conducted the detective, who had finished telephoning, into thelibrary, set out drinks and cigars for him and returned. Nothing furtherwas said until Ellis arrived. The associate editor's face, as he lookedfrom the dead girl to Hal, was both sorrowful and stern. But he wasthere to act; not to judge or comment. He consulted his watch. 

"Eleven forty-five, " he said. "Better give out the story to-night. "

"Why not wait till to-morrow?" asked Dr. Surtaine. 

"The longer you wait, the more it will look like suppressing it. "

"But we _want_ to suppress it. "

"Certainly, " agreed Ellis. "I'm telling you the best way. Fix the storyup for the 'Clarion' and the other papers will follow our lead. "

"If we can arrange a story that they'll believe--" began Hal. 

"Oh, they won't believe it! Not the kind of story we want to print. Theyaren't fools. But that won't make any difference. "

"I should think it would be just the sort of possible scandal ourenemies would catch at. "

"You've still got a lot to learn about the newspaper game, " replied hissubordinate contemptuously. "One newspaper doesn't print a scandal aboutthe owner of another. It's an unwritten law. They'll publish just whatwe tell 'em to--as we would if it was their dis--I mean misfortune. Come, now, " he added, in a hard, businesslike voice, "what are we goingto call the cause of death?"

"Miss Neal died of heart disease. "

"Call it heart disease, " confirmed the other. "Circumstances?"

This was a poser. Dr. Surtaine and Hal looked at each other and lookedaway again. 

"How would this do?" suggested Ellis briskly. "Miss Neal came here toconsult Dr. Surtaine on an emergency in her department at the factory, was taken ill while waiting, and was dead when he--No; that don't fit. If she died without medical attendance, the coroner would have to give apermit for removal. Died shortly after Dr. Surtaine's arrival in spiteof his efforts to revive her; that's it!"

"Just about how it happened, " said Dr. Surtaine gratefully. 

"For publication. Now give me the real facts--under that overcoat ofyours. "

Dr. Surtaine started, and winced as the movement tweaked the raw nervesof his wound. "There's nothing else to tell, " he said. 

"You brought me here to lie for you, " said the journalist. "All right, I'm ready. But if I'm to lie and not get caught at it, I must know thetruth. Now, when I see a man wearing an overcoat over a painful arm, anddiscover what looks like a new bullet hole in the wall of the room, Ithink a dead body may mean something more than heart disease. "

"I don't see--" began the charlatan. 

But Hal cut him short. "For God's sake, " he cried in a voice whichseemed to gouge its way through his straining throat, "let's have donewith lies for once. " And he blurted out the whole story, eking out whathe lacked in detail, by insistent questioning of his father. 

When they came to the part about the Relief Pills, Ellis looked up witha bitter grin. 

"Works out quite logically, doesn't it?" he observed. Then, walking overto the body, he looked down into the face, with a changed expression. "Poor little girl!" he muttered. "Poor little Kitty!" He whirled swiftlyupon the Surtaines. "By God, _I'd_ like to write her story!" he cried. The outburst was but momentary. Instantly he was his cool, capable selfagain. 

"You've had experience in this sort of thing before, I suppose?" heinquired of Dr. Surtaine. 

"Yes. No! Whaddye mean?" blustered the quack. 

"Only that you'll know how to fix the police and the coroner. "

"No call for any fixing. "

"So all that I have to do is to handle the newspapers, " pursued theother imperturbably. "All right. There'll be no more than a paragraph inany paper to-morrow. 'Working-Girl Drops Dead, ' or something like that. You can sleep easy, gentlemen. "

So obvious was the taunt that Hal stared at his friend, astounded. Uponthe Doctor it made no impression. 

"Say, Ellis. Do something for me, will you?" he requested. "Wire toBelford Couch, the Willard, Washington, to come on here by first train. "

"Couch? Oh, that's Certina Charley, isn't it? Your professional fixer?"

"Never mind what he is. You'll be sure to do it, won't you?"

"No. Do it yourself, " said Ellis curtly, and walked out without agood-night. 

"Well, whaddye think of that!" spluttered Dr. Surtaine. "That fellow'sgetting the big-head. "

Hal made no reply. He had dropped into a chair and now sat with his headbetween his hands. When he raised his face it was haggard as if withfamine. 

"Dad, I'm going away. "

"Where?" demanded his father, startled. 

"Anywhere, away from this house. "

"No wonder you're shaken, Boyee, " said the other soothingly. "We'll talkabout it in the morning. After a night's rest--"

"In this house? I couldn't close my eyes for fear of what I'd see!"

"It's been a tough business. I'll give you a sleeping powder. "

"No; I've got to think this out: this whole business of the ReliefPills. "

Dr. Surtaine was instantly on the defensive. "Don't go getting anysentimental notions now, Hal. It's a perfectly legal business. "

"So much the worse for the law, then. "

"You talk like an anarchist!" returned his father, shocked. "Do you wantto be better than the law?"

"If the law permits murder--I do, " said Hal, very low. 

Indignation rose up within Dr. Surtaine: not wholly unjustified, considering his belief that Hal was primarily responsible for thetragedy. "Are your hands so clean, then?" he asked significantly. 

"God knows, they're not!" cried the son, with passion. "I didn't know. Ididn't realize. "

"Yet you turn on me--"

"Oh, Dad, I don't want to quarrel with you. All I know is, I can't stayin this house any more. "

Dr. Surtaine pondered for a few minutes. Perhaps it was better that theboy should go for a time, until his conscience worked out a moresatisfactory state of mind. His own conscience was clear. He was doingbusiness within the limits set for him by the law and the Post Officeauthorities, which had once investigated the "Pills" and given them aclean bill. Milly Neal should not put the onus of her own recklessnessand immorality upon him. Nevertheless, he was glad that Belford Couchwas coming on; and, by the way, he must telephone a dispatch to him. Rising, he addressed his son. 

"Where shall you go?"

"I don't know. Some hotel. The Dunstan. "

"Very well. I'll see you at the office soon, I suppose. Good-night. "

All Hal's world whirled about him as he saw his father leave the room. What seemed to him a monstrous manifestation of chance had overwhelmedand swept him from all moorings. But was it chance? Was it not, rather, as McGuire Ellis had suggested, the exemplification of an exact logic?

The closing of the door behind his father sent a current of air acrossthe room in which a bit of paper on the floor wavered and turned. Halpicked it up. It was the clipping from the "Clarion"--hisnewspaper--which Milly Neal had brought as her justification. One lineof print stood out, writhing as if in an uncontrollable access ofdiabolic glee: "Only $1 A Box: Satisfaction Guaranteed"; and above itthe face of the Happy Lady, distorted by the crumpling of the paper, smirked up at him with a taunt. He thought to interpret that taunt inthe words which Veltman had used, aforetime:--

"What's _your_ percentage?"

CHAPTER XXVII

THE GREATER TEMPTING

Journalistic Worthington ran true to type in the Milly Neal affair. Nonewspaper published more than a paragraph about the "sudden death. "Suicide was not even hinted at in print. But newspaperdom had its ownopinion, magnified and colored by the processes of gossip, over whichprofessional courtesy exercised no control. That the girl had killedherself was generally understood: that there had been a shooting, previous to her death, was also current. Eager report recalled andexaggerated the fact that she had been seen with Hal Surtaine at adubious road-house some months previous. The popular "inside knowledge"of the tragedy was that Milly had gone to the Surtaine mansion to forceHal's hand, failing in which she had shot him, inflicting aninconsiderable wound, and then killed herself; and that Dr. Surtaine hadthereupon turned his son out of the house. Hal's removal to the hotelserved to bear out this surmise, and the Doctor's strategic effort tocover the situation by giving it out that his son's part of the mansionwas being remodeled--even going to the lengths of actually setting aforce of men to work there--failed to convince the gossips. 

Between the two men, the situation was now most difficult. Quiteinstinctively Hal had fallen in with his father's theory that the primalnecessity, after the tragedy, was to keep everything out of print. Thatby so doing he wholly subverted his own hard-won policy did not, in thestress of the crisis, occur to him. Later he realized it. Yet he couldsee no other course of action as having been possible to him. The mereplain facts of the case constituted an accusation against Dr. Surtaine, unthinkable for a son to publish against his father. And Hal stillcozened himself into a belief in the quack's essential innocence, persuading his own reason that there was a blind side to the man whichrendered it impossible for him to see through the legal into the ethicalphases of the question. By this method he was saving his loyalty andaffection. But so profound had been the shock that he could not, for atime, endure the constant companionship of former days. Consequently thefrequent calls which Dr. Surtaine deemed it expedient to make for thesake of appearances, at Hal's hotel, resulted in painful, rambling, topic-shifting talks, devoid of any human touch other than the pitifuland thwarted affection of two personalities at hopeless odds. "Leastsaid soonest mended" was a favorite aphorism of the experienced quack. But in this tangle it failed him. It was he who first touched on thepoisoned theme. 

"Look here, Boy-ee, " said he, a week after the burial. "We're bothscared to death of what each of us is thinking. Let's agree to forgetthis until you are ready to talk it out with me. "

"What good will talk do?" said Hal drearily. 

"None at present. " His father sighed. He had hoped for a clean breast ofit, a confession of the intrigue that should leave the way open to areadjustment of relations. "So let's put the whole thing aside. "

"All right, " agreed Hal listlessly. "I suppose you know, " he added, "before we close the subject, that I've ordered the Relief Pillsadvertising out of the 'Clarion. '"

"You needn't have bothered. It won't be offered again. "

Silence fell between them. "I've about decided to quit that line, " thecharlatan resumed with an obvious effort. "Not that it isn't strictlylegal, " he added, falling back upon his reserve defense. "But it's tootroublesome. The copy is ticklish; I've had to write all those ads. Myself. And, at that, there's some newspapers won't accept 'em andothers that want to edit 'em. Belford Couch and I have been going overthe whole matter. He's the diplomat of the concern. And we've aboutdecided to sell out. Anyway, " he added, brightening, "there ain't hardlymoney enough in a side-line like the Pills to pay for the trouble ofrunning it separate. "

If Dr. Surtaine had looked for explicit approval of his virtuousresolution, he was disappointed. Yet Hal experienced, or tried tobelieve that he experienced, a certain factitious glow of satisfactionat this proof that his father was ready to give up an evil thing evenwithout being fully convinced of its wrongfulness. This helped the sonto feel that, at least, his sacrifice had been made for a worthyaffection. Still, he had no word to say except that he must get to theoffice. The Doctor left with gloom upon his handsome face. 

With McGuire Ellis, Hal's association had become even more difficultthan with the Doctor. Since his abrupt and unceremonious departure fromthe room of death, in the belief in Hal's guilt, Ellis had maintained apurely professional attitude toward his employer. For a time, in hiswretchedness and turmoil of spirit, Hal had scarcely noticed Ellis'swithdrawal of fellowship, vaguely attributing his silence to unexpressedsympathy. But later, when he broached the subject of Milly's death, hewas met with a stony avoidance which inspired both astonishment andresentment. Sub-normal as he now was in nervous strength and tension, heshrank from having it out with Ellis. But he felt, for the first time inhis life, forlorn and friendless. 

On his part McGuire Ellis brooded over a deep anger. He was not a man toyield lightly of his best; but he had given to Hal, first a fineloyalty, and later, as they grew into closer association, a warm ifrather reticent affection. For the rough idealist had found in hisemployer an idealism not always as clear and intelligent as his own, yetoften higher and finer; and along with the professional protectivenesswhich he had assumed over the younger man's inexperience had come anhonest admiration and far-reaching hopes. Now he saw in his chief onewho had betrayed his cause through a weak and selfish indulgence. Theclear-sighted journalist knew that the newspaper owner with a shamefulsecret binds his own power in the coils of that secret. And fatally inerror as he was as to the nature of the entanglement in which Hal wasinvolved, he foresaw the inevitable effect of the situation upon the"Clarion. " Moreover, he was bitterly disappointed in Hal as a man. Hadhis superior "gone on the loose" and contracted a _liaison_ with somewoman of the outer world, Ellis would have passed over the abstractmorality of the question. But to take advantage of a girl in his ownemploy, and then so cruelly to leave her to her fate, --there was rot atthe heart of the man who could do that. The excision of the offending"Relief Pills" ad. After the culmination of the tragedy, was simply asop to hypocrisy. 

Only once had Ellis made any reference to Milly's death. On the day ofher funeral Max Veltman had disappeared, without notice. A week later hereported for duty, shaken and pallid. 

"Do you want to take him back?" Ellis inquired of Hal. 

Hal's first impulse was to say "No"; but he conquered it, rememberingMilly Neal's pitiful generosity toward her lover. 

"Where has he been?" he asked. 

"Drunk, I guess. "

"What do you think?"

"I think yes. "

"All right, if he's sobered up. Tell him it mustn't happen again. "

There was a gleam in McGuire Ellis's eye. "Suppose _you_ tell him thatit mustn't happen again. It would come with more force from you. "

Hal whirled in his chair. "Mac, what's the matter with you?"

"Nothing. I was just thinking of 'Kitty the Cutie. '"

"What were you thinking of her?"

"Only that Max Veltman would have gone through hell-fire for her. And, from his looks, he's been through and had the heart burned out of him. "

With that he resumed his proof-reading in a dogged silence. 

To Hal's great relief Veltman kept out of his way. The man seemed dazedwith misery, but did his work well enough. Rumors reached the officethat he was striving to gain a refuge from his sufferings by giving allhis leisure hours to work in the Rookeries district, under the directionof the Reverend Norman Hale. Ellis was of the opinion that his mind wassomewhat affected, and that he would bear watching a bit; and was themore disturbed in that Veltman shared the secret of the great epidemic"spread, " now practically completed for the "Clarion's" publishing orsuppressing. Ellis held the belief that, now, Hal would order itsuppressed. The man who had shirked his responsibility to Milly Nealcould hardly be relied on for the stamina necessary to such anexploitation. 

The time was at hand for the decision to be made. The two physicians, Elliot and Merritt, pressed for publication. Every day, they pointedout, not only meant a further risk of life, but also increased theimpending danger of a general outburst which would find the city whollyunprepared. On the other hand, the journalists, Ellis and Wayne, heldout for delay. They perceived the one weak point in their case, thatneither a dead body nor a living patient had as yet come to the hands ofthe constituted authorities for diagnosis. The sole determination hadbeen made on corpses carried across the line and now probably impossibleof identification. The committee fund was doing its work of concealmenteffectually. But Fate tripped the strategy board at last, using theReverend Norman Hale as its agent. 

Since Milly Neal's death, the Reverend Norman had tried to find time tocall on Hal Surtaine, and had failed. He wished to talk with him aboutVeltman. Three days after the funeral he had hauled the "Clarion's"foreman out of the gutter, stood between him and suicide for one savagenight of struggle, and listened to the remorse of a haunted soul. Beinga man and a brother, the Reverend Norman forbore blame or admonition;being a physician of the inner being, he devised work for the wreck inhis slums, and had driven him relentlessly that he might find peace inthe service of others. Slowly the man won back to sanity. One obsessionpersisted, however, disturbing to the clergyman. Veltman was willing todo penance himself, in any possible way, but he insisted that, since theSurtaines shared his guilt, they, too, must make amends, before his deadmistress could rest in her grave. Apprised by Veltman of the wholewretched story, Hale secretly sympathized with this view of theSurtaines' responsibility. But he was concerned lest, in Veltman, ittake some form of direct vengeance. When he learned that Veltman hadreturned to the "Clarion" composing-room to work, the minister, unableto spare time for a call from his almost sleepless activities, sent anurgent request to Hal to meet him at the Recreation Club. Hal being out, Ellis got the note, observed the "Immediate and Important" on theenvelope, read the contents, and set out for the rendezvous. 

He never got there. For at the corner of Sperry Street he was met by amessenger who knew him. 

"The back room at McManey's, " said the urchin. "He's in there, waitin'. "

Ellis entered the place. At a table sat the Reverend Norman Hale, withan expression of radiant happiness on his gaunt face. The barkeeper, who, on his own initiative, had just brought in a steaming hot drink, stood watching him with unfeigned concern. Hale welcomed Ellis warmly, and drew a chair close for him. 

"You sent for Mr. Surtaine, " said Ellis. 

"Did I?" asked the other vaguely. "I forget. It doesn't matter. Nothingmatters, now. Ellis, I've found out the secret. "

"What secret?"

"The great secret. The solution, " replied the young minister, buoyantly. "All that is necessary is to get the bodies. "

"Yes, of course, " agreed the other, with rising uneasiness. "But theysmuggle them out as fast--"

"They won't when I've told them. McGuire Ellis, "--he gripped hiscompanion suddenly with fingers that clamped like a burning vise, --"_Ican bring the dead back to life_. "

"Tell me about it. But take a swallow of this first. " Ellis pushed thehot drink toward him. "You're cold. "

"Nothing but excitement. The glory of it! All this suffering and griefand death--"

"Wait a minute. I want a drink myself. "

He turned to the bartender. "Get an auto, " he whispered. "Quick!"

"There's a rig outside, " said the man. "I seen he was sick when he camein, so I sent for it. "

"Good man!" said Ellis. "Telephone to Dr. Merritt at the Health Officeto meet me instantly at the hospital. Tell him why. Now, Mr. Hale, " headded, "come on. Let's get along. You can tell me on the way. "

Still rapt with his vision the minister rose, and permitted himself tobe guided to the carriage. Once inside he fell into a semi-stupor. Onlyat the hospital, where Dr. Merritt was waiting to see him safe withinthe isolation ward, did he come to his rightful senses, cool, and, asever, thoughtful of everything but himself. 

"You've got your chance for a diagnosis at last, Doctor, " he whisperedto the health officer. 

Half an hour later, Dr. Merritt came out to the waiting journalist. 

"Typhus, " he said, with grievous exultation. "Unmistakably andofficially typhus. We've got our case. Only, I wish to God it had beenany of the rest of us. "

"Will he die?" queried Ellis. 

"God knows. I should say his chance was worse than even. He's worn outfrom overwork. "

For assurance, Dr. Elliot was sent for and added his diagnosis. Ellisgot authoritative interviews with both men, and the "Clarion's" great, potential sensation was now fully ripe for print. Denton the reporterhad done the previous work well. His "story, " leaded out and withsubheads, ran flush to two pages of the paper, and every paragraph of itstruck fire. It would, as Ellis said, set off a ton of dynamite beneathsleepy Worthington. That night Veltman "pulled" a proof, and Ellisstayed far into the morning, pasting up a dummy of the article for Hal'sinspection and final judgment. 

It was on Thursday that Norman Hale was taken to the hospital. Fridaynoon McGuire Ellis laid before his principal the carefully constructeddummy with the brief comment:

"There's the epidemic story. "

Hal accepted and read it in silence. Once or twice he made a note. Whenhe had finished, he turned to find Ellis's gaze fixed upon him. 

"We ought to run it Monday, " said Ellis. "We can round it all up bythen. "

Monday is the dead day of journalism, the day for which news articleswhich do not demand instant production are reserved, both to liven up adull paper and because the sensation produced is greater. However, thesensation inevitable to the publishing of this article, as Hal instantlyrealized, would be enormous on any day. 

"It's big stuff, " said he, with a long breath. 

Ellis nodded. "Shall I release it for Monday?"

"N-n-no, " came the dubious reply. 

"It's been held already for ten days. "

"Then what does it matter if we hold it a little longer?"

"Human lives, maybe. Isn't that matter enough?"

"That's only a guess. I've got to have time on this, " insisted Hal. "It's the most vital question of policy that the paper has had to face. "

"Policy!" grunted Ellis savagely. 

"Besides, I've given my word to the Chamber of Commerce Committee thatwe wouldn't publish any epidemic news without due warning to them. "

"Then it's to be killed?"

"'Wait for orders' proof, " said Hal stonily. 

"I might have known, " sneered Ellis, with an infinite depth of scorn, and went to bear the bitter message to Wayne. 

While the "Clarion" policy trembled in the balance, Dr. Surtaine'sCommittee on Suppression was facing a new crisis brought about by thestriking down of Norman Hale, of which they received early information. Should he die, as was believed probable, the news, whether or not thefull facts got into print, would surely become a focus for thepropagation of alarmist rumors. In their distress, the patriots ofcommerce paid a hasty visit to their chief, craving counsel. Havingforeseen the possibility of some such contingency, Dr. Surtaine wasready with a plan. The committee would enlarge itself, call a meeting ofthe representative men of the town, organize an Emergency HealthCommittee of One Hundred, and take the field against the onset ofpernicious malaria. This show of fighting force would allay publicalarm, a large fund would be raised, the newspapers would be kept inthorough subjection, and the disease could be wiped out without unduepublicity or the imperiling of Old Home Week. 

"What about the 'Clarion'?" inquired Hollenbeck, of the committee. "They're still holding off. "

"Safe as your hat, " Dr. Surtaine assured the questioner with a smile. 

"At the meeting you told us you couldn't answer for your son's paper, "Stensland recalled. 

"I can now, " said the confident quack. "Just you leave it to me. "

He went direct to the "Clarion" office, revolving in his mind theimpending interview. For the first time since the tragedy he anticipateda meeting with his son without embarrassment, for now he had a definitetopic to talk about, difficult though it might be. 

Finding Hal at the editorial desk he went direct to the point. 

"Boy-ee, the epidemic is spreading. "

"I know it. "

"I'm going to take hold of the matter personally, from now on. "

"In what way?"

"By organizing a committee of one hundred to cover the city and make ascientific campaign. "

"Are you going to let people know that it's typhus?"

"Sh-sh-sh! So you know, do you? Well, the important thing now is to seethat others don't find out. Don't even whisper the word. Malaria's ourcue; pernicious malaria. What's the use of scaring every one to death?We'll call a public meeting for next week--"

"Publicity is the last thing you want, I should think. "

"Semi-public, I should have said. The epidemic has gone so far thatpeople are beginning to take notice. We've got to reassure them and theright kind of an Emergency Health Committee is the way to do it, BelfordCouch is working up the meeting now. I've kept him over on purpose forit. He's the best little diplomat in the proprietary business. And YoursTruly will be elected Chairman of the Committee. It'll cost us aten-thousand-dollar donation to the fund, but it's worth it to thebusiness. "

"To the business? I don't quite see how. "

"Simple as a pin! When it's all over and we're ready to let the accountof it get into print, Dr. Surtaine, proprietor of Certina, will be theprincipal figure in the campaign. What's that worth in advertising tothe year's business? Not that I'm doing it for that. I'm doing it tosave Old Home Week. "

"With a little profit on the side. "

Dr. Surtaine deemed it politic to ignore the tone of the commentary. 

"Why not? Nobody's hurt by it. You'll be on the Central Committee, Boy-ee. "

"No; I don't think so. "

"Why not?"

"I think I'd better keep out of the movement, Dad. "

"As you like. And you'll see that the 'Clarion' keeps out of it, too?"

"So that's it. "

"Yes, Boy-ee: that's it. You can see, for yourself, that a newspapersensation would ruin everything just now--and also ruin the paper thatsprung it. "

"So I heard from Elias M. Pierce sometime since. "

"For once Pierce is right. "

"Are you asking me to suppress the epidemic story?"

"To let us handle it our own way, " substituted the Doctor. "We've gotour campaign all figured out and ready to start. Do you know what thegreat danger is now?"

"Letting the infection go on without taking open measures to stop it. "

"You're way wrong! Starting a panic that will scatter it all over theplace is the real danger. Have you heard of a single case outside of theRookeries district, so far?"

Hal strove to recall the death-list on the proof. "No, " he admitted. 

"You see! It's confined to one locality. Now, what happens if you turnloose a newspaper scare? Why, those poor, ignorant people will swarm outof the Rookeries and go anywhere to escape the quarantine that they knowwill come. You'll have an epidemic not localized, but general. Thesituation will be ten times as difficult and dangerous as it is now. "

Struck with the plausibility of this reasoning, Hal hesitated. "That'sup to the authorities, " he said. 

"The authorities!" cried the charlatan, in disdain. "What could they do?The damage would be done before they got ready to move. You see, we'vegot to handle this situation diplomatically. Look here, Boyee; what'sthe worst feature of an epidemic? Panic. You know the Bible parable. Theseven plagues came to Egypt and ten thousand people died. The GrandVizier said to the plagues, 'How many of my people have you slain?' Theplagues said, 'A thousand. ' 'What about the other nine thousand?' saidthe Grand Vizier. 'Not guilty!' said the plagues. 'They were slain byFear. ' Maybe it was in 'Paradise Lost' and not the Bible. But thelesson's the same. Panic is the killer. "

"But the disease is increasing all the time, " objected Hal. "Are we tosit still and--"

"Is it?" broke in the wily controversialist. "How do you account forthis, then?" He drew from his pocket a printed leaflet. "Take a peek atthose figures. Fewer deaths in the Rookeries this last week than in anyweek since March. "

This was true. Not infrequently there comes an inexplicable subsidenceof mortality in mid-epidemic. No competent hygienist is deceived intomistaking this phenomenon for an indication of the end. Not being ahygienist Hal was again impressed. 

"The Health Bureau's own statistics, " continued the argumentator, pushing his advantage. "With Dr. Merritt's signature at the bottom. "

"Dr. Merritt says that the epidemic is being fostered by secrecy, suppression, and lying. "

"All sentimentalism. Merritt would turn the city upside down if he hadhis way. Was it him that told you it was typhus?"

"No. We've got a two-page story in proof now, giving the whole facts ofthe epidemic. "

"You can't publish it, Boy-ee, " said his father firmly. 

"Can't? That sounds like an order. "

Adroitly Dr. Surtaine caught at the word. "An order drawn on your wordof honor. "

"If there's any question of honor to the 'Clarion, ' it's to tell thetruth plainly and take the consequences. "

"Who said anything about the 'Clarion's' honor? This is between you andme. "

"You'll have to speak more plainly, " said Hal with a dawning dread. 

"Boyee, I hate to do this, but I've got to, to save the city. You gaveme your word that the day you had to suppress news for your own sake, you'd quit this Don Quixotic business and treat others as decently andconsiderately as you treated yourself. "

"Go on, " said Hal, in a half whisper. 

"Well--Milly Neal. " Dr. Surtaine wet his lips nervously. "You savedyourself there by keeping the story out of the papers. Of course youwere right. You were dead right. You'd have been a fool to do anythingelse. But there you are. And there's your promise. "

A nausea of the soul sickened Hal. That his father, whom he had so lovedand honored, should make of the loyalty which had, at the cost ofprinciple, protected the name of Surtaine against open disgrace, a toolwherewith to tear down his professional standards--it was like someincredible and malign jocosity of a devilish logic. Of what was going onin the quack's mind he had no inkling. He could not know that his fathersaw in the suppression of the suicide news, only a natural andsuccessful effort on the part of Hal to conceal his own guilt in Milly'sdeath. No more could Dr. Surtaine comprehend that it was the dreadfulresponsibility of the Surtaine quackery for which Hal had unhesitantlysacrificed the declared principle of the "Clarion. " So they gazed darklyat each other across the chasm, each seeing his opponent in the blackestcolors. 

"You hold me to that?" demanded Hal, half choked. 

"I have to, Boy-ee. "

To Dr. Surtaine the issue which he had raised was but the distastefulmeans to a necessary end. To Hal it meant the final capitulation to theforces against which he had been fighting since his first enlightenment. 

"I might as well sell the 'Clarion' now, and be done with it, " hedeclared bitterly. 

"Nonsense! If you stuck to this foolishness you'd have to sell it orlose it. You'd be ruined, both in influence and in money. How would youfeel when Mac Ellis, and Wayne, and all the fellows that stuck by youfound themselves out of a job because of your pig-headedness? And whatharm are you doing by dropping the story, anyway? We've got this thingbeaten, right now. It isn't spreading. It's dropping off. What'll the'Clarion' look like when its great sensation peters out into thin air?But by that time the harm'll be done and the whole country will thinkwe're a plague-stricken city. Don't do all that damage and spoileverything just for a false delusion, Boyee. "

But Hal's mind was brooding on the fatal promise which he had soconfidently made his father. One way out there was. 

"Since it's a question of my word to you, " he said, "I could stillpublish the truth about Milly Neal. "

"No. You couldn't do that, Boyee, " said his father in a tone, halfsorrowful, half shamed. 

"No. You're right. I couldn't--God help me!"

To proclaim his own father a moral criminal in his own paper was theone test which Hal lacked the power to meet. It was the world-oldconflict between loyalty and principle--in which loyalty so often and sotragically wins the first combat. 

After all, Hal forced himself to consider, he was not serving his publicill by this particular sacrifice of principle. The official mortalityfigures helped him to persuade himself that the typhus was indeedebbing. For himself, as the price of silence, there was easy sailingunder the flag of local patriotism, and with every success in prospect. Yet it was with sunken eyes that he turned to the tempter. 

"All right, " he said, with a half groan, "I give in. We won't print it. "

Dr. Surtaine heaved a great sigh of relief. "That's horse sense!" hecried jovially. "Now, you go ahead on those lines and you'll make the'Clarion' the best-paying proposition in Worthington. I'll drop a fewhints where they'll do the most good, and you'll see the advertisersbreaking their necks to come in. Journalism is no different from anyother business, Boy-ee. Live and let live. Bear and forbear. There's therule for you. The trouble with you, Boy-ee, has been that you've beentrying to run a business on pink-tea principles. "

"The trouble with me, " said his son bitterly, "is that I've been tryingto reform a city when I ought to have been reforming myself. "

"Oh, you're all right, Boy-ee, " his affectionate and admiring fatherreassured him. "You're just finding yourself. As for this reform--" Andhe was launched upon the second measure of the Pæan of Policy when Halcut him short by ringing a bell and ordering the boy to send McGuireEllis to him. Ellis came up from the city room. 

"Kill the epidemic story, Mr. Ellis, " he ordered. 

Red passion surged up into Ellis's face. 

"Kill--" he began, in a strangled voice. 

"Kill it. You understand?" The associate editor's color receded. Helooked with slow contempt from father to son. 

"Oh, yes, I understand, " he said. "Any other orders to-day?"

Hal made no reply. His father, divining that this was no time forfurther speech, took his departure. McGuire Ellis went out with blackdespair at his heart, a soldier betrayed by his captain. And theproprietor of the "Clarion, " his feet now set in the path of success andprofit, turned back to his work in sodden disenchantment, sighing asyouth alone sighs, and as youth sighs only when it foregoes the dream ofideals which is its immortal birthright. 

CHAPTER XXVIII

"WHOSE BREAD I EAT"

Having yielded, Hal proposed to take profit by his surrender. With acynicism born of his bitter disappointment and self-contempt, he took acertain savage and painful satisfaction in stating the new policyeditorially. 

"As the 'Clarion' is going to be a journalistic prostitute, " said he tohis father, across the luncheon table, where they were consulting ondetails of the new policy, "I'm going to go after the business on thatbasis. "

Dr. Surtaine was pained. Every effort of his own convenient logic he putforth to prove that, in this instance, the path of duty and of glory(financial) was one and the same. Hal refused the proffered gloss. "Atleast you and I can call things by their right names now, " said he. 

But however Hal might talk, what he wrote met his elder's unqualifiedapproval, as it appeared in the proof sent him by his son. It was acunningly worded leading editorial, headed "Standards, " and it dealtappreciatively, not to say reverently, with the commercial greatness ofWorthington. Business, the editor stated, might have to adjust itself tonew conditions and opinions in Worthington as elsewhere, but nobody whounderstood the character of the city's leading men could doubt theirgood purpose or ability to effect the change with the least damage tomaterial prosperity. Meantime the fitting attitude for the public wasone not of criticism but of forbearance and assistance. This was equallytrue of journalism. The "Clarion" admitted seeing a new light. Constructive rather than destructive effort was called for. And soforth, and so on. No intelligent reader could have failed, reading it, to understand that the "Clarion" had hauled down its flag. 

Yet the capitulation must not, for business reasons, be too obvious. Halspent some toilful hours over the proof, inserting plausible phrases, covering his tracks with qualifying clauses, putting the best front onthe shameful matter, with a sick but determined heart, and was about tosend it up with the final "O. K. " when he came out of his absorption torealize that some one was standing waiting, had been standing waiting, for some minutes at his elbow. He looked around and met the intent gazeof the foreman of the composing-room. 

"What is it, Veltman?" he asked sharply. 

"That epidemic story. "

"Well? What about it?"

"Did you order it killed?"

"Certainly. Haven't you thrown it down?"

"No. It's still in type. "

"Throw it down at once. "

"Mr. Surtaine, have you thought what you are doing?"

"It is no part of your job to catechize me, Veltman. "

"Between man and man. " He stepped close to Hal, his face blazing withexaltation. "I must speak now or forever hold my peace. "

"Speak fast, then. "

"It's your last chance, this epidemic spread. Your last chance to savethe 'Clarion' and yourself. "

"That will do, Velt--"

"No, no! Listen to me. I didn't say a word when you kept Milly's suicideout of print. "

"I should think not, indeed!" retorted Hal angrily. 

"That's my shame. I ought to have seen that published if I had to set itup myself. "

"Perhaps you're not aware, Veltman, that I know your part in the Nealaffair. "

"I'd have confessed to you, if you hadn't. But do you know your own?Yours and your father's?"

"Keep my father out of this!"

"Your own, then. Do you know that the money that bought this paper foryou was coined out of the blood of deceived girls? Do you know that youand I are paid with the proceeds of the ad. That led Milly Neal to herdeath? Do you know that?"

"And if I do, what then?" asked Hal, overborne by the man's convictionand vehemence. 

"Tell it!" cried the other, beating his fist upon the desk until theblood oozed from the knuckles. "Tell it in print. Confess, man, and warnothers!"

"Veltman, suppose we were to print that whole wretched story to-morrow, including the truth about your relations with her. "

"Do it! Do it!" cried the other, choked with eagerness. "I'd thank youon my knees. Penance! Give me my chance to do penance! I'll make my ownconfession in writing. I'll write it in my own blood if need be. "

"Steady, Veltman. Keep cool. "

"You think I'm crazy? Perhaps I am. There's a fire at my brain since shedied. I loved her, Mr. Surtaine. "

"But you sacrificed her, Veltman, " returned Hal in a gentler tone, forthe man's face was livid with agony. 

"Don't I know it! My God, don't I know it! But _you_ can't escape theresponsibility because of my sin. It was your paper that helped foolher. She believed in the paper, and in your father. "

"The Relief Pills advertising is out. That much I'll tell you. "

"Now that it's done its work. Not enough! You and I can't bring Millyback to life, Mr. Surtaine, but we can save other lives in peril. Godhas given you your chance, in this epidemic. "

"How do you know about the epidemic?"

"Hasn't it taken Mr. Hale, the only friend I've got in the world? Andwon't it take its hundreds of other lives unless warning is given? Whydoesn't the 'Clarion' speak out, Mr. Surtaine? _Why is that storyordered killed?_"

"Consideration of policy which--"

"Policy! Oh, my God! And the people dying! Harrington Surtaine, "--hiseyes blazed into the other's with the flame of fanaticism, --"I tell you, if you don't accept this opportunity that the Lord gives you, you andyour paper are damned. Do you know what it means to damn the soul of apaper? Why, man, there are people who believe in the 'Clarion' likegospel. "

Hal got to his feet. "Veltman, I dare say you mean well. But you don'tunderstand this. "

"Don't I!" The face took on a sudden appalling savagery. "Don't I knowyou're bought and paid for! Sold out! That's what you've done. Abargain! A bargain! Pay my little price and I'll do your meanestbidding. I'd rather have hell burning at my heart as it burns now thanwhat you've got rotting at yours, young Surtaine. "

The tensity of Hal's restraint broke. With one powerful effort he sentthe foreman whirling through the open door into the hall, slammed thedoor after him, and stood shaking. He heard and felt the jar ofVeltman's body as it struck the wall, and slumped to the floor; then theslow limp of his retreating footsteps. With a seething brain he returnedto his proof--and shuddered away from it. There was blood spattered overthe print. Hurriedly he thrust it aside and rang for a fresh galley. Butthe red spots rose between his eyes and the work, like an accusation, like a prophecy. Of a sudden he beheld this great engine of print whichhad been, first, the caprice of his last flicker of irresponsible andheadlong youth, then the very mould in which his eager and ambitiousmanhood was to form and fulfill itself--he beheld this vast mechanismblazingly illumined as with some inner fire, and now become a terrificgenius, potent beyond the powers of humanity, working out the direcomplications of men, and the tragic destruction of women. And he beheldhimself, fast in its grip. 

He thrust the proof into the tube, scrawled the "O. K. " order on it forthe morrow, and hurried away from the office as from a place accursed. 

That night conscience struck at him once more, making a weapon of wordsfrom the book of a dead master. He had been reading "Beauchamp'sCareer"; and, seeking refuge from the torture of thought in its magic, he came upon the novelist-philosopher's damning indictment of modernjournalism:

 _"And this Press, declaring itself independent, can hardly walk for fear of treading on an interest here, an interest there. It cannot have a conscience. It is a bad guide, a false guardian; its abject claim to be our national and popular interpreter--even that is hollow and a mockery. It is powerful only when subservient. An engine of money, appealing to the sensitiveness of money, it has no connection with the mind of the nation. And that it is not of, but apart from the people, may be seen when great crises come--in strong gales the power of the Press collapses; it wheezes like a pricked pigskin of a piper. "_

Hal flung the book from him. But its accusations pursued him through thegates of sleep, and poisoned his rest. 

In the morning he had recovered his balance, and with it his doggeddetermination to see the matter through. He forced himself to read theleading editorial, finding spirit even to admire the dexterity withwhich he had held out the promise of good behavior to the businessinterests, whilst pretending to a sturdy independence. Shearson met himat the entrance to the building, beaming. 

"That'll bring business, " said the advertising manager. "I've had half adozen telephones already about it. "

"That's good, " replied Hal half-heartedly. 

"Yes, _sir_, " pursued the advertising manager: "I can smell money inthe air to-day. And, by the way, I've got a tip that, for a little mildapology, E. M. Pierce will withdraw both his suits. "

"I'll think about it, " promised Hal. He was rather surprised at theintensity of his own relief from the prospect of the court ordeal. Atleast, he was getting his price. 

McGuire Ellis was, for once, not asleep, though there was no work on hisdesk when Hal entered the sanctum. 

"Veltman's quit, " was his greeting. 

"I'm not surprised, " said Hal. 

"Then you've seen the editorial page this morning?"

"Yes. But what has that to do with Veltman's resignation?"

"Everything, I should think. Notice anything queer about the page?"

"No. "

"Look it over again. "

Hal took up the paper and scrutinized the sheet. "I don't see a thingwrong, " he said. 

"That lets me out, " said Ellis grimly. "If you can't see it when you'retold it's there, I guess I can't be blamed for not catching it in proof. Of course the last thing one notices is a stock line that's always beenthere unchanged. Look at the motto of the paper. Veltman must havechiseled out the old one, and set this in, himself, the last thingbefore we went to press. How do you like it? Looks to me to go prettywell with our leading editorial this morning. "

There between the triumphal cocks, where formerly had flaunted thebraggart boast of the old "Clarion, " and more latterly had appeared thegentle legend of the martyred President, was spread in letters of shameto the eyes of the "Clarion's" owner, the cynic profession of the ledcaptain, of the prostituted pen, of all those who have or shall sellmind and soul and honor for hire;--

 _"Whose Bread I Eat, his Song I Sing. "_

CHAPTER XXIX

CERTINA CHARLEY

Mr. Belford Couch was a man of note. You might search vainly for thename among the massed thousands of "Who's Who in America, " or even inthose biographical compilations which embalm one's fame and picture fora ten-dollar consideration. Shout the cognomen the length of FifthAvenue, bellow it up Walnut and down Chestnut Street, lend it vocalcurrency along the Lake Shore Drive, toss it to the winds that storm infrom the Golden Gate to assault Nob Hill, and no answering echo wouldyou awake. But give to its illustrious bearer his familiar title; speakbut the words "Certina Charley" within the precincts of the nation'scapital and the very asphalt would find a viscid voice wherewith toacclaim the joke, while Senate would answer House, and Department replyto Bureau with the curses of the stung ones. For Mr. Belford Couch wasleast loved where most laughed at. 

From the nature of his profession this arose. His was a singular career. He pursued the fleeting testimonial through the mazy symptoms of disease(largely imaginary) and cure (wholly mythical). To extract from thegreat and shining ones of political life commendations of Certina; tobeguile statesmen who had never tasted that strange concoction intoasseverating their faith in the nostrum's infallibility for any and allailments; to persuade into fulsome print solemnly asinine Senators andunwarily flattered Congressmen--that was the touchstone of his living. Some the Demon Rum betrayed into his hands. Others he won by sheerpersonal persuasiveness, for he was a master of the suave plea. Again, political favors or "inside information" made those his debtors fromwhom he exacted and extracted the honor of their names for Dr. Surtaine's upholding. Blackmail, even, was hinted at. "What does itmatter?" thought the deluded or oppressed victim. "Merely a line ofmeaningless indorsement to sign my name to. " And within a fortnightadvertising print, black and looming, would inform the reading populaceof the whole country that "United States Senator Gull says of Certina:'It is, in my opinion, unrivaled as a never-failing remedy for coughsand colds, '" with a picture, coarse-screen, libelously recognizable. 

Certina Charley was not a testimonial-chaser alone. Had he been, Dr. Surtaine would not have retained him at a generous salary, but wouldhave paid him, as others of his strange species are paid, by the piece;one hundred dollars for a Representative, two hundred and fifty dollarsfor a Senator, and as high as five hundred for a hero conspicuous in thepopular eye. The special employee of Certina was a person of diverseinformation and judicious counsel. His chief had not incorrectlydescribed him as the diplomat of the trade. 

No small diplomacy had been required for the planning of the EmergencyCommittee scheme, the details of which Mr. Couch had worked out, himself. It was, as he boasted to Dr. Surtaine, "a clincher. "

"Look out for the medicos, " he had said to Dr. Surtaine in outlining hisgreat idea. "They're mean to handle. You can always buy or bluff anewspaper, but a doctor is different. Some of 'em you can grease, butthey're the scrubs. The real fellers won't touch money, and the worst of'em just seem to love trouble. Merritt's that kind. But we can fixMerritt by raising twenty or thirty thousand dollars and handing it overto him to organize his campaign against the epidemic. From all I canlearn, Merritt has got the goods as a health officer. He knows hisbusiness. There's no man in town could handle the thing better, unlessit's you, Chief, and you don't want to mix up in the active part of it. Merritt'll be crazy to do it, too. That's where we'll have him roped. You say to him, 'Take this money and do the work, but do it on thequiet. That's the condition. If you can't keep our secret, we'll haveyou fired and get some man that can. ' The Mayor will chuck him if thecommittee says so. But it won't be necessary, if I've got Merritt sizedup. He wants to get into this fight so bad that he'll agree to almostanything. His assistants we can square. 

"So much for the official end of it. But what about the run of themedical profession? If they go around diagnosing typhus, the news'llspread almost as fast as through the papers. So here's how we'll fixthem. Recommend the City Council to pass an ordinance making it amisdemeanor punishable by fine, imprisonment, and revocation of licenseto practice, for a physician to make a diagnosis of any case as apestilential disease. The Council will do it on the committee's say-so. "

"Whew!" whistled the old charlatan. "That's going pretty strong, Bel. The doctors won't stand for that. "

"Believe me, they will. It's been tried and it worked fine, on theCoast, when they had the plague there. That's where I got the notion:but the revocation of the license is my own scheme. That'll scare 'emout of their wits. You'll find they don't dare peep about typhus. Especially as there aren't a dozen doctors in town that ever saw a caseof it. "

"That's so, " agreed his principal. "I guess you're right after all, Bel. "

"Sure, am I! You say you've got the newspapers fixed. "

"Sewed up tight. "

"Keno! Our programme's complete. You and Mr. Pierce and the Mayor seeMerritt and get him. Call the meeting for next week. Make somegood-natured, diplomatic feller chairman. Send out the call to aboutthree hundred of your solidest men. Then we'll elect you permanentchairman, you can pick your Emergency Committee, put the resolutionabout pest-diagnosis up to the City Council--and there you are. My job'sdone. I shall _not_ be among those present. "

"Done, and mighty well done, Bel. You'll be going back to Washington?"

"No, I guess I better stick around for a while--in case. Besides, I wanta little rest. "

Like so many persons of the artistic temperament, Certina Charley wassubject to periods of relaxation. With him these assumed the phase ofstrong drink, evenly and rather thickly spread over several days. On theafternoon before the carefully planned meeting, ten days after NormanHale was taken to the hospital, the diplomat of quackery, his shoulderseased of all responsibility, sat lunching early at the Hotel Dunston. His repast consisted of a sandwich and a small bottle of well-frappédchampagne. To him, lunching, came a drummer of the patent medicinetrade; a blatant and boastful fellow, from whose methods the diplomat inMr. Belford Couch revolted. Nevertheless, the newcomer was a forcefulperson, and when, over two ponies of brandy ordered by the luncher inthe way of inevitable hospitality, he launched upon a criticism of someof the recent Certina legislative strategy as lacking vigor (a reproachby no means to be laid to the speaker's language), Mr. Couch's tenderestfeelings were lacerated. With considerable dignity for one in hiscondition, he bade his guest go farther and fare worse, and inmitigation of the latter's Parthian taunt, "Kid-glove fussing, 'bo, "called Heaven and earth and the whole café to witness that, abhorrentthough self-trumpeting was to him, no man had ever handled moredelicately a prickly proposition than he had handled the Certinalegislative interests. Gazing about him for sympathy he espied the sonof his chief passing between the tables, and hailed him. 

Two casual meetings with Certina Charley had inspired in Hal a mildlyamused curiosity. Therefore, he readily enough accepted an invitation tosit down, while declining a coincident one to have a drink, on the pleathat he was going to work. 

"Say, " appealed Charley, "did you hear that cough-lozenge-peddling boobtrying to tell me where to get off, in the proprietary game? Me!"

"Perhaps he didn't know who you are, " suggested Hal tactfully. 

"Perhaps he don't know the way from his hand to his face with a glass ofbooze, either, " retorted the offended one, with elaborate sarcasm. "Everybody in the trade knows me. Sure you won't have a drink?"

"No, thank you. "

"Don't drink much myself, " announced the testimonial-chaser. "Just oncein a while. Weak kidneys. "

"That's a poor tribute from a Certina man. "

"Oh, Certina's all right--for those that want it. The best doctor isnone too good for me when I'm off my feed. "

"Well, they call Certina 'the People's Doctor, '" said Hal, quoting anargument his father had employed. 

"One of the Chief's catchwords. And ain't it a corker! He's the best oldboy in the business, on the bunk. "

"Just what do you mean by that?" asked Hal coldly. 

But Certina Charley was in an expansive mood. It never occurred to himthat the heir of the Certina millions was not in the Certina secrets:that he did not wholly understand the nature of his father's trade, andview it with the same jovial cynicism that inspired the old quack. 

"Who's to match him?" he challenged argumentatively. "I tell you, theyall go to school to him. There ain't one of our advertising tricks, fromOld Lame-Boy down to the money-back guarantee, that the others haven'tcrabbed. Take that 'People's Doctor' racket. Schwarzman copied it forhis Marovian Mixture. Vollmer ran his 'Poor Man's Physician' copy sixmonths, on Marsh-Weed. 'Poor Man's Doctor'! It's pretty dear treatment, I tell you. "

"Surely not, " said Hal. 

"Sure _is_ it! What's a doctor's fee? Three dollars, probably. "

"And Certina is a dollar a bottle. If one bottle cures--"

"Does _what_? Quit your jollying, " laughed Certina Charley unsteadily. 

"Cures the disease, " said Hal, his suspicions beginning to congeal intoa cold dread that the revelation which he had been unconfessedlyavoiding for weeks past was about to be made. 

"If it did, we'd go broke. Do you know how many bottles must be sold toany one patron before the profits begin to come in? Six! Count them, six. "

"Nonsense! It can't cost so much to make as--"

"Make? Of course it don't. But what does it cost to advertise? You thinkI'm a little drink-taken, but I ain't. I'm giving you the straightfigures. It costs just the return on six bottles to get Certina into Mr. E. Z. Mark's hands, and until he's paid his seventh dollar for hisseventh bottle our profits don't come in. Advertising is expensive, these days. "

"How many bottles does it take to cure?" asked Hal, clinging desperatelyto the word. 

"Nix on the cure thing, 'bo. You don't have to put up any bluff with me. I'm on the inside, right down to the bottom. "

"Very well. Maybe you know more than I do, then, " said Hal, with a grimdetermination, now that matters had gone thus far, to accept thisopportunity of knowledge, at whatever cost of disillusionment. "Goahead. Open up. "

"A real cure couldn't make office-rent, " declared the expert withconviction. "What you want in the proprietary game is a jollier. Certina's that. The booze does it. You ought to see the farmers in ano-license district lick it up. Three or four bottles will give a guy apretty strong hunch for it. And after the sixth bottle it's all velvetto us, except the nine cents for manufacture and delivery. "

"But it must be some good or people wouldn't keep on buying it, " pursuedHal desperately. 

"You've got all the old stuff, haven't you! The good ol' stockarguments, " said Certina Charley, giggling. "The Chief has taught youthe lesson all right. Must be studyin' up to go before a legislativecommittee. Well, here's the straight of it. Folks keep on buying Certinafor the kick there is in it. It's a bracer. And it's a repeater, thebest repeater in the trade. "

"But it must cure lots of them. Look at the testimonials. Surely they'regenuine. "

"So's a rhinestone genuine--as a rhinestone. The testimonials that ain'tbought, or given as a favor, are from rubes who want to see their namesin print. "

"At least I suppose it isn't harmful, " said Hal desperately. 

"No more than any other good ol' booze. It won't hurt a well man. I usedto soak up quite a bit of it myself till my doc gave me an option ondyin' of Bright's disease or quittin'. "

"Bright's disease!" exclaimed Hal. 

"Oh, yes, I know: we cure Bright's disease, don't we? Well, if there'sanything worse for old George W. Bright's favorite ailment than rawalcohol, then my high-priced physizzian don't know his business. "

"Let me get this straight, " said Hal with a white face. "Do I understandthat Certina--"

"Say, wassa matter?" broke in Certina Charley, in concern; "you looksick. "

"Never mind me. You go on and tell me the truth about this thing. "

"I guess I been talkin' too much, " muttered Certina Charley, dismayed. He gulped down the last of his champagne with a tremulous hand. "This'smy second bottle, " he explained. "An' brandy in between. Say, I thoughtyou knew all about the business. "

"I know enough about it now so that I've got to know the rest. "

"You--you won't gimme away to the Chief? I didn't mean to show up hisgame. I'm--I'm pretty strong for the old boy, myself. "

"I won't give you away. Go on. "

"Whaddye want to know, else?"

"Is there _anything_ that Certina is good for?"

"Sure! Didn't I tell you? It's the finest bracer--"

"As a cure?"

"It's just as good as any other prup-proprietary. "

"That isn't the question. You say it is harmful in Bright's disease. "

"Why, looka here, Mr. Surtaine, you know yourself that booze is poisonto any feller with kidney trouble. Rheumatism, too, for that matter. Butthey get the brace, and they think they're better, and that helps pushthe trade, too. "

"And that's where my money came from, " said Hal, half to himself. 

"It's all in the trade, " cried Certina Charley, summoning his powers toa defense. "There's lots that's worse. There's the cocaine dopes forcatarrh; they'll send a well man straight to hell in six months. There'sthe baby dopes; and the G-U cures that keep the disease going when righttreatment could cure it; and the methylene blue--"

"Stop it! Stop it!" cried Hal. "I've heard enough. "

Alcohol, the juggler with men's thoughts, abruptly pressed upon a newcenter of ideation in Certina Charley's brain. 

"D'you think I like it?" he sniveled, with lachrymose sentimentality. "I gotta make a living, haven't I? Here's you and me, two pretty decentyoung fellers, having to live on a fake. Well, " he added with solacingphilosophy, "if we didn't get it, somebody else would. "

"Tell me one thing, " said Hal, getting to his feet. "Does my father knowall this that you've been telling me?"

"Does the Chief _know_ it? _Does_ he? Why, say, my boy, Ol' DocSurtaine, he _wrote_ the proprietary medicine business!"

Misgivings beset the optimistic soul of Certina Charley as his guestfaded from his vision; faded and vanished without so much as a word ofexcuse or farewell. For once Hal had been forgetful of courtesy. Gazingafter him his host addressed the hovering waiter:--

"Say, Bill, I guess I been talkin' too much with my face. Bring'sanother of those li'l bo'ls. "

CHAPTER XXX

ILLUMINATION

Certina Charley, plus an indeterminate quantity of alcohol, had actedupon Hal's mind as a chemical precipitant. All the young man's hithertosuppressed or unacknowledged doubts of the Certina trade and its headwere now violently crystallized. Hal hurried out of the hotel, the wrathin his heart for the deception so long wrought upon him chilled by aprofounder feeling, a feeling of irreparable loss. He thought in thatmoment that his love for his father was dead. It was not. It was onlyhis trust that was dying, and dying hard. 

Since that day of his first visit to the Certina factory, Hal'sstandards had undergone an intrinsic but unconscious alteration. Broughtup to the patent medicine trade, though at a distance, he thought of it, by habit, as on a par with other big businesses. One whose childhood isspent in a glue factory is not prone to be supersensitive to odors. So, to Harrington Surtaine, those ethical and moral difficulties which wouldhave bulked huge to one of a different training, were merely inherentphases of a profitable business. Misgivings had indeed stirred, atfirst. For these he had chided himself, as for an over-polite revulsionfrom the necessary blatancy of a broadly advertised enterprise. Moresearching questions, as they arose within him, he had met with thecounter-evidence of the internal humanism and fair-dealing of theCertina shop, and of the position of its beloved chief in the commercialworld. 

In the face of the Relief Pills exposure, Hal could no longer excuse hisfather on the ground that Dr. Surtaine honestly credited his medicineswith impossible efficacies. Still, he had reasoned, the Doctor had beenwilling instantly to abandon this nostrum when the harm done by it wasconcretely brought home to him. Though this argument had fallen farshort of reconciling Hal to the Surtaine standards, nevertheless it hadserved as a makeshift to justify in part his abandonment of the hard-wonprinciples of the "Clarion, " a surrender necessary for the saving of aloved and honored father in whose essential goodness he had stillbelieved. 

Now the edifice of his faith was in ruins. If Certina itself, if thetutelary genius of the House of Surtaine, were indeed but a monstrousquackery cynically accepted as such by those in the secret, what shredof defense remained to him who had so prospered by it? Through thewreckage of his pride, his loyalty, his affection, Hal saw, in place ofthe glowing and benign face of Dr. Surtaine, the simulacrum of Fraud, sleek and crafty, bloated fat with the blood of tragically hopefuldupes. 

One great lesson of labor Hal had already learned, that work is ananodyne. From his interview with Certina Charley he made straight forthe "Clarion" office. As he hurried up the stairs, the door ofShearson's room opened upon him, and there emerged therefrom abrick-red, agile man who greeted him with a hard cordiality. 

"Your paper certainly turned the trick. I gotta hand it to you!"

"What trick?" asked Hal, not recognizing the stranger. 

"Selling my stock. Streaky Mountain Copper Company. Don't you remember?"

Hal did remember now. It was L. P. McQuiggan. 

"More of the same for me, _if_ you please, " continued the visitor. "I'vejust made the deal with Shearson. He's stuck me up on rates a little. That's all right, though. The 'Clarion' fetches the dough. I want tostart the new campaign with an interview on our prospects. Is it O. K. ?"

"Come up and see Mr. Ellis, " said Hal. 

Having led him to the editorial office, Hal sat down to work, but foundno escape from his thoughts. There was but one thing to do: he must haveit out at once with Dr. Surtaine. He telephoned the factory for anappointment. Sharp-eared McQuiggan caught the call. 

"That my old pal, Andy?" said he. "Gimme a shot at him while you've gothim on the wire, will you?"

Cheery, not to say chirpy, was the mining promoter's greeting projectedinto the transmitter which Hal turned over to him. Straightway, however, a change came o'er his blithe spirit. 

"Something's biting the old geezer, " he informed Hal and Ellis. "Seemsto have a grouch. Says he's coming over, pronto--right quick. "

Five minutes later, while Mr. McQuiggan was running over some proofswhich he had brought with him, Dr. Surtaine walked into the office. There was about him a formidable smoothness, as of polished metal. Hegreeted his old friend with a nod and a cool "Back again, I see, Elpy. "

"And doing business at the old stand, " rejoined his friend. "Worthington's the place where the dollars grow, all right. "

"Grow, _and_ stay, " said Dr. Surtaine. 

"Meaning?" inquired McQuiggan solicitously. 

"That you've over-medicated this field. "

"Have I got any dollars away from you, Andy?"

"No. But you have from my people. "

"Well, their money's as good to buy booze with as anybody else's, Ireckon. "

Dr. Surtaine had sat down, directly opposite the visitor, fronting himeye-to-eye. Nothing loath, McQuiggan accepted the challenge. His hard, brisk voice, with a sub-tone of the snarl, crossed the Doctor's strong, heavy utterance like a rapier engaging a battle-axe. Both assumed asuavity of manner felt to be just at the breaking point. The twospectators sat, surprised and expectant. 

"I don't suppose, " said Dr. Surtaine, after a pause, "there's any usetrying to get you to refund. "

"Still sticking out for the money-back-if-not-satisfied racket--in theother fellow's business, eh, Andy? Better practice it in your own. "

"Hal, "--Dr. Surtaine turned to his son, --"has McQuiggan brought in a newbatch of copy?"

"So I understand. "

"The 'Clarion' mustn't run it. "

"The hell it mustn't!" said McQuiggan. 

"It's crooked, " said the quack bluntly. 

The promoter laughed. "A hot one, you are, to talk about crookedness. "

"He's paying his advertising bills out of my people's pay envelopes!"accused Dr. Surtaine. 

"How's that, Doc?" asked Ellis. 

"Why, when he was here before, he spent some time around the Certinaplant and got acquainted with the department managers and a lot of theothers, and damn me!" cried Dr. Surtaine, grinning in spite of hiswrath, "if he didn't sting 'em all for stock. "

"How do you know they're stung?" inquired Ellis. 

"From an expert on the ground. I got anxious when I found my own peoplewere in it, and had a man go out there from Phoenix. He reports that theStreaky Mountain hasn't got a thing but expectations and hardly that. "

"Well, you didn't say there was anything more, did you?" inquired thebland McQuiggan. 

"I? I didn't say?"

"Yes, _you_. You got up the ads. "

"Well--well--well, of all the nerve!" cried Dr. Surtaine, grievouslyappealing to the universe at large. "I got 'em up! You gave me thematerial, didn't you?"

"Sure, did I. Hot stuff it was, too. "

"Hot bunk! And to flim-flam my own people with it, too!"

"Anybody that works in your joint ought to be wise to the bunk game, "suggested McQuiggan. 

"I'll tell you one thing: you don't run any more of it in this town. "

"Maybe I don't and then again maybe I do. It won't be as good as yourcopy, p'r'aps. But it'll get _some_ coin, I reckon. Take a look, " hetaunted, and tossed his proofs to the other. 

The quack broke forth at the first glance. "Look here! You claim fiftythousand tons of copper in sight. "

"So there is. "

"With a telescope, I suppose. "

"Well, telescope's sight, ain't it? You wouldn't try to hear throughone, would you?"

"And $200, 000. 00 worth, ready for milling, " continued the critic. 

"Printer's error in the decimal point, " returned the other, with airyimpudence. "Move it two to the left. Keno! There you have it: $2000. 00. "

"Very ingenious, Mr. McQuiggan, " said Hal. "But you're practicallyadmitting that your ads. Are faked. "

"Admittin' nothin'! I offer you the ads. And I've got the ready stuff topay for 'em. "

"And you think that is all that's necessary?"

"Sure do I!"

"Mr. McQuiggan, " remarked Ellis, "has probably been reading our ableeditorial on the reformed and chastened policy of the 'Clarion. '"

Hal turned an angry red. "That doesn't commit us to accepting swindles. "

"Don't it?" queried McQuiggan. "Since when did you get sopick-an'-choosy?"

"Straight advertising, " announced Dr. Surtaine, "has been the unvaryingpolicy of this paper since my son took it over. "

"Straight!" vociferated McQuiggan. "_Straight?_ Ladies and gents: thewell-known Surtaine Family will now put on their screamin' farceentitled 'Honesty is the Best Policy. '"

"When you're through playing the clown--" began Hal. 

"Straight advertising, " pursued the other. "Did I really hear them sweetwords in Andy Certain's voice? No! Say, somebody ring an alarm-clock onme. I can't wake up. "

"I think we've heard enough from you, McQuiggan, " warned Hal. 

"Do you!" The promoter sprang from his chair and all the latent venom ofhis temper fumed and stung in the words he poured out. "Well, takeanother think. I've got some things to tell you, young feller. Don't youcome the high-and-holy on me. You and your smooth, big, phonystuffed-shirt of a father. "

"Here, you!" shouted the leading citizen thus injuriously designated, but the other's voice slashed through his protest like a blade throughpulp. 

"Certina! Ho-oh! Warranted to cure consumption, warts, heart-disease, softening of the brain, and the bloody pip! And what is it? Morphine andbooze. "

"You're a liar, " thundered the outraged proprietor: "Ten thousanddollars to any one who can show a grain of morphine in it. "

"Changed the formula, have you? Pure Food Law scared you out of thedope, eh? Well, even at that it's the same old bunk. What about yourtestimonials? Fake 'em, and forge 'em, and bribe and blackmail for 'emand then stand up to me and pull the pious plate-pusher stuff aboutbeing straight. Oh, my Gawd! It'd make a straddle-bug spit at the sun, to hear you. Why, I'm no saint, but the medical line was too strong formy stomach. I got out of it. "

"Yes, you did, you dirty little dollar-snatcher! You got put of it intojail for peddling raw gin--. "

"Don't you go raking up old muck with me, you rotten big poisoner!"roared McQuiggan: "or you'll get the hot end of it. How about that girlthat went batty after taking Cert--"

"Wait a moment! Father! Please!" Hal broke in, aghast at this display. "We're not discussing the medical business. We're talking advertising. McQuiggan, yours is refused. We don't run that class of matter in the'Clarion. '"

"No? Since when? You'd better consult an oculist, young Surtaine. "

"If ever this paper carried such a glaring fake as your StreakyMountain--"

"Stop right there! Stop! look! and listen!" He caught up the day's issuefrom the floor and flaunted it, riddling the flimsy surface with thestiffened finger of indictment. "Look at it! Look at this ad. --andthis--and this. " The paper was rent with the vehemence of hisindication. "Put my copy next to that, and it'd come to life and squirmto get away. "

"Nothing there but what every paper takes, " defended Ellis. 

"Every paper'd be glad to take my stuff, too. Why, Streaky Mountain copyis the Holy Bible compared to what you've got here. Take a slant atthis: 'Consumption Cured in Three Months. '--'Cancer Cured or your MoneyBack. '--Catarrh dopes, headache cures, germ-killers, baby-soothers, nerve-builders, --the whole stinkin' lot. Don't I know 'em! Either sugarpills that couldn't cure a belly-ache, or hell's-brew of morphine andbooze. Certina ain't the worst of 'em, any more than it's the best. Imay squeeze a few dollars out of easy boobs, but you, Andy Certain, youand your young whelp here, you're playin' the poor suckers for theirlives. And then you're too lily-fingered to touch a mining propositionbecause there's a gamble in it!"

He crumpled the paper in his sinewy hands, hurled it to the floor, kicked it high over Dr. Surtaine's head, and stalking across to Hal'sdesk, slapped down his proofs on it with a violence that jarred thewhole structure. 

"You run that, " he snarled, "or I'll hire the biggest hall inWorthington and tell the whole town what I've just been telling you. "

His face, furrowed and threatening, was thrust down close to Hal's. Thuslowered, the eyes came level with a strip of print, pasted across theinner angle of the desk. 

"'Whose Bread I Eat, his Song I Sing, '" he read. "What's that?"

"A motto, " said McGuire Ellis. "The complete guide to correctjournalistic conduct. Put there, lest we forget. "

"H'm!" said McQuiggan, puzzled. "It's in the right place, all right, allright. Well, does my ad. Go?"

"No, " said Hal. "But I'm much obliged to you, McQuiggan. "

"You go to hell. What're you obliged to me for?" said the visitorsuspiciously. 

"For the truth. I think you've told it to me. Anyway you've made me tellit to myself. "

"I guess I ain't told you much you don't know about your snidebusiness. "

"You have, though. Go ahead and hire your hall. But--take a look atto-morrow's 'Clarion' before you make your speech. Now, good-day toyou. "

McQuiggan, wondering and a little subdued by a certain quiet resolutionin Hal's speech, went, beckoning Ellis after him for explication. Halturned to his father. 

"I don't suppose, " he began haltingly, "that you could have told me allthis yourself. "

"What?" asked Dr. Surtaine, consciously on the defensive. 

"About the medical ads. "

"McQuiggan's a sore-head"--began the Doctor. 

"But you might have told me about Certina, as I've been living onCertina money. "

"There's nothing to tell. " All the self-assurance had gone out of thequack's voice. 

"Father, does Certina cure Bright's disease?"

"Cure? Why, Boyee, what _is_ a cure?"

"Does it cure it?" insisted Hal. 

"Sit down and cool off. You've let that skunk, McQuiggan, get you allexcited. "

"This began before McQuiggan. "

"Then you've been talking to some jealous doctor-crank. "

"For God's sake, Father, answer my plain question. "

"Why, there's no such thing as an actual cure for Bright's disease. "

"Don't you say in the advertisements that Certina will cure it?"

"Oh, advertisements!" returned the quack with an uneasy smile. "Nobodytakes an advertisement for gospel. "

"I'm answered. Will it cure diabetes?"

"No medicine will. No doctor can. They're incurable diseases. Certinawill do as much--"

"Is it true that alcohol simply hastens the course of the disease?"

"Authorities differ, " said the quack warily. "But as the disease isincurable--"

"Then it's all lies! Lies and murder!"

"You're excited, Boy-ee, " said the charlatan with haggard forbearance. "Let me explain for a moment. "

"Isn't it pretty late for explanations between you and me?"

"This is the gist of the proprietary trade, " said the Doctor, pickinghis words carefully. "Most diseases cure themselves. Medicine isn't muchgood. Doctors don't know a great deal. Now, if a patent medicine bracesa patient up and gives him courage, it does all that can be done. Then, the advertising inspires confidence in the cure and that's half thebattle. There's a lot in Christian Science, and a lot in common betweenChristian Science and the proprietary business. Both work on the mindand help it to cure the body. But the proprietary trade throws in a fewdrugs to brace up the system, allay symptoms, and push along the goodwork. There you have Certina. "

Hal shook his head in dogged misery. "It can't cure. You admit it can'tcure. And it may kill, in the very cases where it promises to cure. Howcould you take money made that way?"

A flash of cynicism hardened the handsome old face. "Somebody's going tomake a living off the great American sucker. If it wasn't us, it'd besomebody else. " He paused, sighed, and in a phrase summed up andcrystallized the whole philosophy of the medical quack: "Life's acut-throat game, anyway. "

"And we're living on the blood, " said Hal. "It's a good thing, " he addedslowly, "that I didn't know you as you are before Milly Neal's death. "

"Why so?"

"Because, " cried the son fiercely, "I'd have published the whole truthof how she died and why, in the 'Clarion. '"

"It isn't too late yet, " retorted Dr. Surtaine with pained dignity, "ifyou wish to strike at the father who hasn't been such a bad father toyou. But would you have told the truth of your part in it?"

"My part in it?" repeated Hal, in dull puzzlement. "You mean the ad?"

"You know well enough what I mean. Boy-ee, Boy-ee, "--there was an edgeof genuine agony in the sonorous voice, --"we've drawn far apart, you andI. Is all the wrong on my side? Can you judge me so harshly, with yourown conscience to answer?"

"What I've got on my conscience you've put there. You've made me turnback on every principle I have. I've dishonored myself and my officefor you. You've cost me the respect of the men I work with, and thefaith of the best friend I've got in the world. "

"The _best_ friend, Boy-ee?" questioned the Doctor gently. 

"The best friend: McGuire Ellis. "

Hal's gaze met his father's. And what he saw there all but unmanned him. From the liquid depths of the old quack's eyes, big and soft like ananimal's, there welled two great tears, to trickle slowly down the setface. 

Hal turned and stumbled from the office. 

Hardly knowing whither he went, he turned in at the first open door, which chanced to be Shearson's. There he sat until his self-controlreturned. As the aftermath of his anger there remained with him a grimdetermination. It was implicit in his voice, as he addressed Shearson, who walked in upon him. 

"Cut out every line of medical from the paper. "

"When?" gasped Shearson. 

"Now. For to-morrow's paper. "

"But, Mr. Surtaine--"

"Every--damned--line. And if any of it ever gets back, the manresponsible loses his job. "

"Yes, sir, " said the cowed and amazed Shearson. 

Hal returned to his sanctum, to find Ellis in his own place and Dr. Surtaine gone. 

"Ellis, you put that motto on my desk. "

"Yes. "

"What for?"

"Lest we forget, " repeated Ellis. 

"Not much danger of that, " replied his employer bitterly. "Now, I wantyou to take it down. "

"Is that an order?"

"Would you obey it if it were?"

"No. "

"You'd resign first?"

"Yes. "

"Then I'll take it down myself. "

With his letter-opener he pried the offensive strip loose, tore itacross thrice, and scattered the pieces on the floor. 

"Mr. Ellis, " said he formally, "hereafter no medical advertising will beaccepted for or published in the 'Clarion. ' The same rule applies tofraudulent advertising of any kind. I wish you and the other members ofthe staff to act as censors for the advertising. "

"Yes, sir, " said McGuire Ellis. 

He turned back to his desk, and sprawled his elbows on it. His headlapsed lower and lower until it attained the familiar posture of rest. But McGuire Ellis was not sleeping. He was thinking. 

CHAPTER XXXI

THE VOICE OF THE PROPHET

Two hundred and fifty representative citizens, mostly of the businesstype, with a sprinkling of other occupations not including physicians, sat fanning themselves into a perspiration in the Chamber of Commerceassembly rooms, and wondering what on earth an Emergency Health Meetingmight be. Congressman Brett Harkins, a respectable nonentity, who waspresiding, had refrained from telling them: deliberately, it wouldappear, as his speech had dealt vaguely with the greatness ofWorthington's material prosperity, now threatened--if one might credithis theory--by a combination of senseless panic and reckless tongues;and had concluded by stating that Mr. William Douglas, one of theleaders of our bar, as all the chairman's hearers well knew, wouldexplain the situation and formulate a plan for the meeting'sconsideration. 

Explanation, however, did not prove to be Mr. William Douglas's forte. Coached by that practiced diplomat, Certina Charley, he made a speechmemorable chiefly for what it did not say. The one bright, definitegleam, amidst rolling columns of oratory, was the proposal that anEmergency Committee of One Hundred be appointed to cope with thesituation, that the initial sum of twenty-five thousand dollars bepledged by subscription, and that their distinguished fellow citizen, Dr. L. André Surtaine, be permanent chairman of said committee, withpower to appoint. Dr. Surtaine had generously offered to subscribe tenthousand dollars to the fund. (Loud and prolonged applause; the word"thousand" preceding the word "dollars" and itself preceded by anynumeral from one to one million, inclusive, being invariablyprovocative of acclaim in a subscription meeting of representativecitizens. ) Mr. Douglas took pride in nominating that Midas of Medicine, Dr. Surtaine. (More and louder applause. ) The Reverend Dr. Wales, of Dr. Surtaine's church, sonorously seconded the nomination. So did HollisMyers, of the Security Power Products Company. So, a trifle grumpily, did Elias M. Pierce. Also Col. Parker, editor of the "Telegram, " AaronScheffler, of Scheffler and Mintz, and Councilman Carlin. The presidingofficer inquired with the bland indifference of the assured whetherthere were any further nominations. There were not. But turning in hissecond-row seat, Festus Willard, who was too important a figurecommercially to leave out, though Dr. Surtaine had entertained doubts ofhis "soundness, " demanded of McGuire Ellis, seated just behind him, whatit was all about. 

"Ask the chairman, " suggested Ellis. 

"I will, " said Willard. He got up and did. 

The Honorable Brett Harkins looked uncomfortable. He didn't really knowwhat it was all about. Moreover, it had been intimated to him that he'dperhaps better not know. He cast an appealing glance at Douglas. 

"That is not exactly the question before the meeting, " began Douglashastily. 

"It is the question I asked, " persisted Willard. "Before we elect Dr. Surtaine or any one else chairman of a committee with a fund to spend, Iwant to know what the committee is for. "

"To cope with the health situation of the city. "

"Very well. Now we're getting somewhere. Where's Dr. Merritt? I think weought to hear from him on that point. "

Murmurs of assent were heard about the room. Dr. Surtaine rose to hisfeet. 

"If I may be pardoned for speaking to a motion of which I am a part, " hesaid in his profound and mellow voice. 

"I think I can throw light upon the situation. Quite a number of ushave observed with uneasiness the increase of sickness in Worthington. Sensationalists have gone so far as to whisper that there is anepidemic. I have myself made a rigid investigation. More than this, myson, Mr. Harrington Surtaine, has placed the resources of the 'Clarion'staff at our disposal, and on the strength of both inquiries, I amprepared to assure this gathering that nothing like an epidemic exists. "

"Well, I _am_ damned!" was McGuire Ellis's astounded and none toolow-voiced comment upon this bold perversion of the "Clarion"enterprise. Stretching upward from his seat he looked about for Hal. Theyoung editor sat in a far corner, his regard somberly intent upon thespeaker. 

"Alarm there has undoubtedly been, and is, " pursued Dr. Surtaine. "Tofind means to allay it is the purpose of the meeting. We must remove thecause. Both our morbidity and our mortality rate, though nowretrograding, have been excessive for several weeks, especially in theRookeries district. There has been a prevalence of malaria of a severetype, which, following last winter's epidemic of grip, has provenunusually fatal. Dr. Merritt believes that he can wipe out the diseasequietly if a sufficient sum is put at his disposal. "

This was not authoritative. Merritt had declined to commit himself, butDr. Surtaine was making facts of his hopes. 

"In this gathering it is hardly necessary for me to refer to themunicipal importance of Old Home Week and to the damage to its prospectswhich would be occasioned by any suspicion of epidemic, " continued thespeaker. "Whatever may be the division of opinion as to methods, we aresurely unanimous in wishing to protect the interests of the centennialcelebration. And this can best be done through a committee ofrepresentative men, backing the constituted health authorities, withoutcommotion or disturbance. Have I answered your doubts, Mr. Willard?" heconcluded, turning a brow of benign inquiry upon that gentleman. 

"Not wholly, " said Festus Willard. "I've heard it stated on medicalauthority that there is some sort of plague in the Rookeries. "

A murmur of inquiry rose. "Plague? What kind of plague?"--"Who saysso?"--"Does he mean bubonic?"--"No doctor that knows hisbusiness--"--"They say doctors are shut out of the Rookeries. "--"Order!Order!"

Through the confusion cleaved the edged voice of E. M. Pierce, directedto the chairman:

"Shut that off. "

A score took the cue. "Question! Question!" they cried. 

"Do I get an answer to my question?" persisted Willard. 

"What is your question?" asked the harassed chairman. 

"Is there a pestilence in the Rookeries? If so, what is its nature?"

"There is not, " stated Dr. Surtaine from his seat. "Who ever says thereis, is an enemy to our fair and healthy city. "

This noble sentiment, delivered with all the impressiveness of which theold charlatan was master, roused a burst of applause. To its rhythmthere stalked down the side aisle and out upon the rostrum the gauntfigure of the Reverend Norman Hale. 

"Mr. Chairman, " he said. 

"How did that fellow get here?" Dr. Surtaine asked of Douglas. 

"We invited all the ministers, " was the low response. "I understood hewas seriously ill. "

"He is a trouble-maker. Tell Harkins not to let him talk. "

Douglas spoke a word in the chairman's ear. 

"There's a motion before the house--I mean the meeting, " beganCongressman Harkins, when the voice behind him cut in again, hollow andresonant:

"Mr. Chairman. "

"Do you wish to speak to the question?" asked the chairman uncertainly. 

"I do. "

"No, no!" called Douglas. "Out of order. Question!"

Voices from the seats below supported him. But there were other callsfor a hearing for the newcomer. Curiosity was his ally. The meetinganticipated a sensation. The chairman, lacking a gavel, hammered on thestand with a tumbler, and presently produced a modified silence, throughwhich the voice of the Reverend Norman Hale could be heard saying thathe wished but three minutes. 

He stepped to the edge of the platform, and the men below noticed forthe first time that he carried in his right hand a wreath ofmetal-mounted, withered flowers. There was no mistaking the nature ofthe wreath. It was such as is left lying above the dead for wind andrain to dissipate. Hale raised it slowly above his head. The silence inthe hall became absolute. 

"I brought these flowers from a girl's grave, " said the Reverend NormanHale. "The girl had sinned. Death was the wage of her sin. She died byher own hand. So her offense is punished. That account is closed. "

"What has all this to do--" began the chairman; but he stopped, checkedby a wave of sibilant remonstrance from the audience. 

The speaker went on, with relentless simplicity, still holding themortuary symbol aloft:--

"But there is another account not yet closed. The girl was deceived. Notby the father of her unborn child. That is a different guilt, to bereckoned with in God's own time. The deception for which she has paidwith her life was not the deception of hot passion, but of cold greed. A man betrayed her, as he has betrayed thousands of other unfortunates, to put money into his own pockets. He promised her immunity. He said toher and to all women, in print, that she need not fear motherhood if shewould buy his medicine. She believed the promise. She paid her dollar. And she found, too late, that it was a lie. 

"So she went to the man. She knew him. And she determined either that heshould help her or that she would be revenged on him. All this she toldme in a note, to be opened in case of her death. He must have refused tohelp. He had not the criminal courage to produce the abortion which hefalsely promised in his advertisements. What passed between them I donot know. But I believe that she attempted to kill him and failed. Sheattempted to kill herself and succeeded. The blood of Camilla Neal is onevery cent of Dr. Surtaine's ten-thousand-dollar subscription. "

He tossed the wreath aside. It rolled, clattering and clinking, andsettled down at the feet of the Midas of Medicine who stared at it witha contorted face. 

The meeting sat stricken into immovability. It seemed incredible thatthe tensity of the silence should not snap. Yet it held. 

"I shall vote 'No' on the motion, " said the Reverend Norman Hale, stillwith that quiet and appalling simplicity. "I came here from ahand-to-hand struggle with death to vote 'No. ' I have strength for onlya word more. The city is stricken with typhus. It is no time forconcealment or evasion. We are at death-grips with a very dreadfulplague. It has broken out of the Rookeries district. There are half adozen new foci of infection. In the face of this, silence is deadly. Ifyou elect Dr. Surtaine and adopt his plan, you commit yourself to analliance with fraud and death. You deceive and betray the people wholook to you for leadership. And there will be a terrible price to payin human lives. I thank you for hearing me patiently. "

No man spoke for long seconds after the young minister sat down, wavering a little as he walked to a chair at the rear. But through therepresentative citizenship of Worthington, in that place gathered, passed a quiver of sound, indeterminate, obscure, yet having all thepassion of a quelled sob. Eyes furtively sought the face of Dr. Surtaine. But the master-quack remained frozen by the same bewildermentas his fellows. Perhaps alone in that crowd, Elias M. Pierce remaineduntouched emotionally. He rose, and his square granite face was cold asabstract reason. There was not even feeling enough in his voice to givethe semblance of a sneer to his words as he said:

"All this is very well in its place, and doubtless does credit to thesentimental qualities of the speaker. But it is not evidence. It is anunsupported statement, part of which is admittedly conjecture. Allowingthe alleged facts to be true, are we to hold a citizen of Dr. Surtaine'sstanding and repute responsible for the death of a woman caused by herown immorality? The woman whose death Mr. Hale has turned to suchoratorical account was, I take it, a prostitute--"

"That is a damned lie!"

Hal Surtaine came down the aisle in long strides, speaking as he came. 

"Milly Neal was my employee and my father's employee. If she went astrayonce, who are you to judge her? Who are any of us to judge her? I tookpart of that blood-money. The advertisement was in my paper, paid forwith Surtaine money. What Mr. Hale says is the living truth. No manshall foul her memory in my hearing. "

"And what was she to you? You haven't told us that yet?" There was arancid sneer in Pierce's insinuation. 

Hal turned from the aisle and went straight for him. A little man rosein his way. It was Mintz, who had given him the heartening word afterthe committee meeting. In his blind fury Hal struck him a staggeringblow. But the little Jew was plucky. He closed with the younger man, andclinging to him panted out his good advice. 

"Don'd fighd 'im, nod here. It's no good. Go to the pladform an' sayyour say. We'll hear you. "

But it was impossible to hear any one now. Uproar broke loose. Menshouted, stormed, cursed; the meeting was become a rabble. Above the dincould be distinguished at intervals the voice of the Honorable BrettHarkins, who, in frantic but not illogical reversion to the idea of apolitical convention, squalled for the services of the sergeant-at-arms. There was no sergeant-at-arms. 

Mintz's pudgy but clogging arms could restrain an athlete of Hal's poweronly a brief moment; but in that moment sanity returned to thefury-heated brain. 

"I beg your pardon, Mintz, " he said; "you're quite right. I thank youfor stopping me. "

He returned to the aisle, pressing forward, with what purpose he couldhardly have said, when he felt the sinewy grasp of McGuire Ellis on hisshoulder. 

"Tell 'em the whole thing, " fiercely urged Ellis. "Be a man. Own up tothe whole business, between you and the girl. "

"I don't know what you mean!" cried Hal. 

"Don't be young, " groaned Ellis; "you've gone halfway. Clean it up. Thenwe can face the situation with the 'Clarion. ' Tell 'em you were herlover. "

"Milly's? I wasn't. It was Veltman. "

"Good God of Mercy!"

"Did you think--"

"Yes;--Lord forgive me! Why didn't you tell me?"

"How could I tell you suspected--"

"All right! I know. We'll talk it out later. The big thing now is, what's the paper going to do about this meeting?"

"Print it. "

Into Ellis's face flashed the fervor of the warrior who sees victoryloom through the clouds of hopeless defeat. 

"You mean that?"

"Every word of it. And run the epidemic spread--"

Before he could finish, Ellis was fighting his way to a telephone. 

Hal met his father's eyes, and turned away with a heartsick sense that, in the one glance, had passed indictment, conviction, a hopelessacquiescence, and the dumb reproach of the trapped criminal againstavenging justice. He turned and made for the nearest exit, conscious ofonly two emotions, a burning desire to be away from that place and aprofound gladness that, without definite expression of the change, thebitter alienation of McGuire Ellis was past. 

As Hal left, there arose, out of the turmoil, one clear voice of reason:the thundering baritone of Festus Willard moving an adjournment. Itpassed, and the gathering slowly dispersed. Avoiding the offeredcompanionship of Congressman Harkins and Douglas, Dr. Surtaine tookhimself off by a side passage. At the end of it, alone, stood theReverend Norman Hale, leaning against the sill of an open window. Theold quack rushed upon him. 

"Keep off!" warned the young minister, throwing himself into an attitudeof defense. 

"No, no, " protested Dr. Surtaine: "don't think I meant _that_. I--I wantto thank you. "

"Thank _me_?" The minister put his hand to his head. "I don'tunderstand. "

"For leaving my boy out of it. "

"Oh! That. I didn't see the necessity of dragging him in. "

"That was kind. You handled me pretty rough. Well, I'm used to roughwork. But the boy--look here, you knew all about this Milly Nealbusiness, didn't you?"

"Yes. "

"Maybe you could tell me, " went on the old quack miserably. "I canunderstand Hal's getting into a--an affair with the girl--being kindacarried away and losing his head. What I can't get is his--his quittin'her when she was in trouble. "

"I still don't understand, " protested the minister. "My head isn't verygood. I've been ill, you know. "

"You let him off without telling his name to-night. And that made methink maybe he wasn't in wrong so far as I thought. Maybe therewere--what-ye-call-'em?--mitigating circumstances. Were there?"

A light broke in upon the Reverend Norman Hale. "Did you think your sonwas Milly Neal's lover? He wasn't. "

"Are you sure?" gasped the father. 

"As sure as of my faith in Heaven. "

The old man straightened up, drawing a breath so profound that it seemedto raise his stature. 

"I wouldn't take a million dollars for that word, " he declared. 

"But your own part in this?" queried the other in wonderment. "I hatedto have to say--"

"What does it matter?"

"You have no concern for yourself?" puzzled the minister. 

"Oh, I'll come out on top. I always come out on top. What got to myheart was my boy. I thought he'd gone wrong. And now I know he hasn't. "

The old charlatan's strong hand fell on his assailant's shoulder, thenslipped down supportingly under his arm. 

"You look pretty shaky, " said he with winning solicitude. "Let me takeyou home in my car. It's waiting outside. "

The Reverend Norman Hale accepted, marveling greatly over the complexmiracle of the soul of man--who is formed in the image of his Maker. 

CHAPTER XXXII

THE WARNING

Tradition of the "Clarion" office embalms "the evening the typhus storybroke" as a nightmare out of which was born history. Chronologically, according to the veracious records of Bim the Guardian of Portals, thetumult began at exactly 10. 47, with the arrival of Mr. McGuire Ellis, traveling up the staircase five steps at a jump and calling in astrangled voice for Wayne. That usually controlled journalist rushed outof an inner room in alarm, demanding to know whether New York City hadbeen whelmed with a tidal wave or the King of England murdered in hisbed, and in an instant was struggling in the grasp of his fellow editor. 

"What's left of the epidemic spread?" demanded the new arrivalbreathlessly. 

"The killed story?"

"What's left of it?" clamored Ellis, dancing all over his colleague'sfeet. "Can you find the copy? Notes? Anything?"

"Proofs, " said Wayne. "I saved a set. "

Ellis sat down in a chair and regarded his underling with an expressionof stupefied benevolence. 

"Wayne, " he said, "you're a genius. You're the fine flower and perfectblossom of American journalism. I love you, Wayne. With passionatefervor, I love you. Now, _gitta move on_!!!" His voice soared andexploded. "We're going to run it to-morrow!"

"To-morrow? How? It isn't up to date. Nobody's touched it since--"

"Bring it up to date! Fire every man in the office out on it. Tear thehide off the old paper and smear the story all over the front page. Haulin your eyes and _start_!"

The whirl of what ensued swamped even Bim's cynic and philosophic calm. Amidst a buzz of telephones and a mighty scurrying of messengers thestaff of the "Clarion" was gathered into the fold, on a"drop-everything" emergency call, and instantly dispersed again to thehospitals, the homes of the health officials, the undertakers'establishments, the cemeteries, and all other possible sources ofinformation. The composing-room seethed and clanged. Copy-readers yelledfrantically through tubes, and received columns of proofs which, underthe ruthless slaughter of their blue pencils, returned as "stickfuls, "that room might be made for the great story. Cable news was slashedright and left. Telegraph "skeletons" waited in vain for their bones tobe clothed with the flesh of print. The Home Advice Department sank withall on board, and the most popular sensational preacher in town, who hadthat evening made a stirring anti-suffrage speech full of the mostunfailing jokes, fell out of the paper and broke his heart. The carnagein news was general and frightful. Two pages plus of a story that"breaks" after 10 P. M. Calls for heroic measures. 

At 10. 53 Mr. Harrington Surtaine arrived, hardly less tempestuously thanhis predecessor. He did not even greet Bim as he passed through thegate, which was unusual; but went direct to Ellis. 

"Can we do it, Mac?"

"The epidemic story? Yes. There was a proof saved. "

"Good. Can you do the story of the meeting?"

Ellis hesitated. "All of it?"

"Every bit. Leave out nothing. "

"Hadn't you better think it over?"

"I've thought. "

"It'll hit the old--your father pretty hard. "

"I can't help it. "

A surge of human pity overswept Ellis's stimulated journalistickeenness. "You don't _have_ to do this, Hal, " he suggested. "No otherpaper--"

"I do have to do it, " retorted the other. "And worse. "

Ellis stared. 

"I've got to print the story of Milly's death: the facts just as theyhappened. And I've got to write it myself. "

The professional zest surged up again in McGuire Ellis. "My Lord!" heexclaimed. "_What a paper to-morrow's 'Clarion' will be!_ But why? Why?Why the Neal story--now?"

"Because I can't print the epidemic spread unless I print the other. I've given my word. I told my father if ever I suppressed news for myown protection, I'd give up the fight and play the game like all theother papers. I've tried it. Mac, it isn't my game. "

"No, " replied his subordinate in a curious tone, "it isn't your game. "

"You'll write the meeting?"

"Yes. "

"Save out a column for my story. "

Ellis returned to Wayne at the news desk. "Hell's broke loose at theEmergency Health meeting, " he remarked, employing the conventionalphrasing of his craft. 

And Wayne, in the same language, inquired:

"How much?"

"Two columns. And a column from the Boss on another story. "

"Whew!" whistled Wayne. "We _shall_ have some paper. "

From midnight until 2. 30 in the morning the reporters on the great storydribbled in. Each, as he arrived, said a brief word to Wayne, got a curtdirection, slumped into his seat, and silently wrote. It was all verymethodical and quiet and orderly. A really big news event always isafter the first disturbance of adjustment. Newspaper offices worksmoothest when the tension is highest. 

At 12. 03 A. M. Bim received two flurried Aldermen and the head of a citydepartment. At 12. 35 he held spirited debate with the DeputyCommissioner of Health. Just as the clock struck one, two advertisingmanagers, arriving neck and neck, merged their appeals in an ineffectualattempt to obtain information from the youthful Cerberus, which heloftily declined to furnish, as to the whereabouts of anyone with powerto ban or bind, on the "Clarion. " At 1. 30 the Guardian of the Gate hadthe honor and pleasure of meeting, for the first time, his Honor theMayor of the City. Finally, at 1. 59 he "took a chance, " as he would haveput it, and, misliking the autocratic deportment of a messenger fromE. M. Pierce, told that emissary that he could tell Mr. Pierce exactlywhere to go to--and go there himself. All the while, unmoved amidstprotestation, appeal, and threat, the steady news-machine went ongrinding out unsuppressible history for itself and its city. 

Sharp to the regular hour, the presses clanged, and the buildingthrilled through its every joint to the pulse of print. Hal Surtainerose from his desk and walked to the window. McGuire Ellis also rose, walked over and stood near him. 

"Three pretty big beats to-morrow, " he said awkwardly, at length. 

"The Milly Neal story won't be a beat, " replied Hal. 

"No? How's that?"

"I've sent our proofs to all the other papers. "

"Well, I'm--What's the idea?

"We lied to them about the story in the first instance. They playedfair, according to the rules, and took our lie. We can't beat 'em on ourown story, now. "

"Right you are. Bet none of 'em prints it, though. " Wherein he was atrue prophet. 

There was a long, uneasy pause. 

"Hal, " said Ellis hesitantly. 

"Well?"

"I'm a fool. "

The white weariness of Hal's face lit up with a smile. "Why, Mac--" hebegan. 

"A pin-head, " persisted the other stubbornly. "A block of solid ivoryfrom the collar up. I'm--I'm _young_ in the head, " he concluded, withsupreme effort of self-condemnation. 

"It's all right, " said his chief, perfectly knowing what Ellis meant. 

"Have I said enough?"

"Plenty. "

"You didn't put Veltman in your story?"

"No. What was the good?"

"That's right, too. "

"Good-night, Mac, I'm for the hotel. "

"Good-night, Hal. See you in the morning. "

"Yes. I'll be around early. "

Ellis's eyes followed his chief out through the door. He returned to hisdesk and sat thinking. He saw, with pitiless clearness, the stormgathering over the "Clarion": the outburst of public hostility, thedepletion of advertisers and subscribers, the official oppositionclosing avenues of information, the disastrous probabilities of thePierce libel suits, now soon to be pushed; and his undaunted spirit of acrusader rose and lusted for the battle. 

"They may lick us, " he said to his paste-pot, the recipient of many abitter confidence and thwarted hope in the past; "but we'll show 'emwhat a real newspaper is, for once. And"--his eyes sought the doorthrough which Hal Surtaine had passed--"I've got this much out of it, anyway: I've helped a boy make himself a Man. "

Ten thousand extra copies sped from the new and wonder-working press ofthe "Clarion" that night, to be absorbed, swallowed, engulfed by amazed populace. In all the city there was perhaps not a man, woman, orchild who, by the following evening, had not read or heard of the"Clarion's" exposure of the epidemic--except one. Max Veltman lay, senseless to all this, between stupor and a fevered delirium in whichthe spirit of Milly Neal called on him for delayed vengeance. 

CHAPTER XXXIII

THE GOOD FIGHT

Earthquake or armed invasion could scarce have shocked staid Worthingtonmore profoundly than did the "Clarion's" exposure. Of the facts therecould be no reasonable doubt. The newspaper's figures were specific, andits map of infection showed no locality exempt. The city had wakenedfrom an untroubled sleep to find itself poisoned. 

As an immediate result of the journalistic tocsin, the forebodings ofDr. Surtaine and his associates as to the effects of publicity bade fairto be justified. Undeniably there was danger of the disease scattering, through the medium of runaways from the stricken houses. But the"Clarion" had its retort pat for the tribe of "I-told-you-so, " admittingthe prospect of some primary harm to save a great disaster later. Morethan one hundred lives, it pointed out, giving names and dates, hadalready been sacrificed to the shibboleth of secrecy; the whole city hadbeen imperiled; the disease had set up its foci of infection in a scoreof places, and there were some three hundred cases, in all, known orsuspected. One method only could cope with the situation: the fullestpublic information followed by radical hygienic measures. 

Of information there was no lack. So tremendous a news feature could notbe kept out of print by the other dailies, all of whom now admitted thepresence of the pestilence, while insisting that its scope had beengreatly exaggerated, and piously deprecating the "sensationalism" oftheir contemporary. Thus the city administration was forced to action. An appropriation was voted to the Health Bureau. Dr. Merritt, seizinghis opportunity, organized a quarantine army, established a detentioncamp and isolation hospital, and descended upon the tenement districts, as terrible (to the imagination of the frantic inhabitants) as amalevolent god. The Emergency Health Committee, meantime, died and wasforgotten overnight. 

Something not unlike panic swept the Rookeries. Wild rumors passed frommouth to mouth, growing as they went. A military cordon, it was said, was to be cast about the whole ward and the people pent up inside todie. Refugees were to be shot on sight. The infected buildings were tobe burned to the ground, and the tenants left homeless. The water-supplywas to be poisoned, to get rid of the exposed--had already beenpoisoned, some said, and cited sudden mysterious deaths. Such savageimaginings of suspicion as could spring only from the ignorant fears ofa populace beset by a secret and deadly pest, roused the district to arat-like defiance. Such of the residents as were not home-bound by theauthorities, growled in saloon back rooms and muttered in the streets. Hatred of the "Clarion" was the burden of their bitterness. Two of itsreporters were mobbed in the hard-hit ward, the day after thepublication of the first article. 

Nor was the paper much better liked elsewhere. It was held responsiblefor all the troubles. Though the actuality of the quarantine fell farshort of the expectant fears, still there was a mighty turmoil. Familieswere separated, fugitives were chased down and arrested, and close uponthe heels of the primary harassment came the threat of economiccomplications, as factories and stores all over the city, for their ownprotection, dismissed employees known to live within the near range ofthe pestilence. In the minds of the sufferers from these measures and oftheir friends, the "Clarion" was an enemy to the public. But it was readwith avid impatience, for Wayne, working on the principle that "it isnews and not evil that stirs men, " contrived to find some newsensational development for every issue. Do what the rival papers might, the "Clarion" had and held the windward course. 

Representative Business, that Great Mogul of Worthington, was, ofcourse, outraged by the publication. Hal Surtaine was an ill bird whohad fouled his own nest. The wires had carried the epidemic news toevery paper in the country, and Worthington was proclaimed "unclean" tothe ears of all. The Old Home Week Committee on Arrangements held ahasty meeting to decide whether the celebration should be abandoned orpostponed, but could come to no conclusion. Denunciation of the"Clarion" for its course was the sole point upon which all the speakersagreed. Also there was considerable incidental criticism of its editor, as an ingrate, for publishing the article on Milly Neal's death whichreflected so severely upon Dr. Surtaine. As the paper had been boughtwith Dr. Surtaine's hard cash, the least Hal could have done, indecency, was to refrain from "roasting" the source of the money. Suchwas the general opinion. The representative business intellect ofWorthington failed to consider that the article had been confinedrigidly to a statement of facts, and that any moral or ethical inferencemust be purely a derivative of those facts as interpreted by the reader. Several of those present at the meeting declared vehemently that theywould never again either advertise in or read the "Clarion. " There waseven talk of a boycott. One member was so incautious as to condole withDr. Surtaine upon his son's disloyalty. The old quack's regard fell uponhis tactless comforter, dull and heavy as lead. 

"My son is my son, " said he; "and what's between us is our own business. Now, as to Old Home Week, it'll be time enough to give up when we'relicked. " And, adroit opportunist that he was, he urged upon the meetingthat they support the Health Bureau as the best hope of clearing up thesituation. 

Amongst the panic-stricken, meanwhile, moved and worked the volunteerforces of hygiene, led by the Reverend Norman Hale. Weakened and unfitthough he was, he could not be kept from the battle-ground, notwithstanding that Dr. Merritt, fearing for his life, had threatenedhim with kidnaping and imprisonment in the hospital. At Hale's righthand were Esmé Elliot and Kathleen Pierce. There had been one scene atGreenvale approaching violence on Dr. Elliot's part and defiance on thatof his niece when her guardian had flatly forbidden the continuance ofher slum work. It had ended when the girl, creeping up under the guns ofhis angry eyes, had dropped her head on his shoulder, and said inunsteady tones:--

"I--I'm not a very happy Esmé, Uncle Guardy. If I don't have somethingto do--something real--I'll--I'll c-c-cry and get my pretty nose allred. "

"Quit it!" cried the gruff doctor desperately. "What d'ye mean by actingthat way! Go on. Do as you like. But if Merritt lets anything happen toyou--"

"Nothing will happen, Guardy. I'll be careful, " promised the girl. 

"Well, I don't know whatever's come over you, lately, " retorted heruncle, troubled. 

"Neither do I, " said Esmé. 

She went forth and enlisted Kathleen Pierce, whose energetic andrestless mind was ensnared at once by what she regarded as the romanticpossibilities of the work, and the two gathered unto themselves half adozen of the young males of the species, who readily volunteered, partlyfor love and loyalty to the chieftainesses of their clan, partly out ofthe blithe and adventurous spirit of youth, and of them formed anautomobile corps, for scouting, messenger service, and emergencytransportation, as auxiliary to Hale and Merritt; an enterprise whichsubsequently did yeoman work and taught several of the gilded youthsomething about the responsibilities of citizenship which they wouldnever have learned in any other school. 

Tip O'Farrell was another invaluable aide. He had one brief encounter, on enlistment, with the health officer. 

"You ought to be in jail, " said Dr. Merritt. 

"What fer?" demanded O'Farrell. 

"Smuggling out bodies without a permit. "

"Ferget it, " advised the politician. "I tried my way, an' it wasn't goodenough. Now I'll try yours. You can't afford to jug me. "

"Why can't I?"

"I'm too much use to you. "

"So far you've been just the other thing. "

"Ain't I tellin' you I'm through with that game? On the level! Doc, these poor boobs down here _know_ me. They'll do as I tell 'em. Gimme achance. "

So O'Farrell, making his chance, did his work faithfully and wellthrough the dismal weeks to follow. It takes all kinds of soldiers tofight an epidemic. 

Those two sturdy volunteers, Miss Elliot and Miss Pierce, were drivingslowly along the fringe of the Rookeries, --yes, slowly, notwithstandingthat Kathleen Pierce was acting as her own chauffeur, --having justdelivered a consignment of emergency nurses from a neighboring city toDr. Merritt, when the car slowed down. 

"Did you see that?" inquired Miss Pierce, indicating, with a jerk of herhead, the general topography off to starboard. 

"See what?" inquired her companion. "I didn't notice anything except ahokey-pokey seller, adding his mite to the infant mortality of thedistrict. "

"Esmé, you talk like nothing human lately!" accused her friend. "You'rea--a--regular health leaflet! I meant that man going into the cornertenement. I believe it was Hal Surtaine. "

"Was it?"

"And you needn't say, 'Was it?' in that lofty, superior tone, like anangel with a new halo, either, " pursued her aggrieved friend. "You knowit was. What do you suppose he's doing down here?"

"The epidemic is the 'Clarion's' special news. He spends quite a littletime in this district, I believe. "

"Oh, you believe! Then you've seen him lately?"

"Yes. "

Miss Pierce stared rigidly in front of her and made a detour ofmagnificent distance to avoid a push-cart which wasn't in her wayanyhow. "Esmé, " she said. 

"Yes?"

"Did you give me away to him?"

"No. He didn't give me an opportunity. "

"Oh!" There was more silence. Then, "Esmé, I was pretty rotten aboutthat, wasn't I?"

"Why, Kathie, I think you ought to have written to him. "

"I meant to write and own up, no matter if I did tell you I wouldn't. But I kept putting it off. Esmé, did you notice how thin and worn helooks?"

The other winced. "He's had a great deal to worry him. "

"Well, he hasn't got our lawsuit to worry him any more. That's off. "

"Off?" A light flashed into Esmé's face. "Your father has dropped it?"

"Yes. He had to. I told him the accident was my fault, and if I was puton the stand I'd say so. I'm not so popular with Pop as I might be, justnow. But, Esmé, I _didn't_ mean to run away and leave her in the gutter. I got rattled, and Brother was crying and I lost my head. "

"That will save the 'Clarion, '" said Esmé, with a deep breath. 

Kathleen looked at her curiously, and then made a singular remark. "Yes;that's what I did it for. "

"But what interest have you in saving the 'Clarion'?" demanded Esmé, bewildered. 

"The failure of the 'Clarion' would be a disaster to the city, " observedMiss Pierce in copy-book style. 

"Kathie! You should make two jabs in the air with your forefinger whenyou quote. Otherwise you're a plagiarist. Let me see. " Esmé pondered. "Hugh Merritt, " she decided. 

Kathleen kept her eyes steady ahead, but a flood of color rose in herface. 

"I had an awful fight over it with him before--before I gave in, " shesaid. 

"Are you going to marry Hugh?" demanded Esmé bluntly. 

The color deepened until even the velvety eyes seemed tinged with it. "Idon't know. _He_ isn't exactly popular with Pop, either. "

Esmé reached over and gave her friend a surreptitious little hug, whichmight have cost a crossing pedestrian his life if he hadn't been a briskdodger. 

"Hugh Merritt is a _man_, " said she in a low voice: "He's brave and he'sstraight and he's fine. And oh, Kathie, dearest, if a man of that kindloves you, don't you ever, ever let anything come between you. "

"Hello!" said Kathleen in surprise. "That don't sound much like theGreat American Man-eating Pumess of yore. There's been a big change inyou since you sidetracked Will Douglas, Esmé. Did you really care? No, of course, you didn't, " she answered herself. "He's a nice chap, but heisn't particularly brave or fine, I guess. "

A light broke in upon her:

"Esmé! Is it, after all--"

"No, no, no, no, NO!" cried the victim of this highly femininededuction, in panic. "It isn't any one. "

"No, of course it isn't, dear. I didn't mean to tease you. Hello! whathave we here?"

The car stopped with a jar on a side street, some distance from thequarantined section. Seated on the curb a woman was wailing over thestiffened form of a young child. The boy's teeth were clenched and hisface darkly suffused. 

"Convulsions, " said Esmé. 

The two girls were out of the car simultaneously. The agonized mother, an Italian, was deaf to Esmé's persuasions that the child be turned overto them. 

"What shall we do?" she asked, turning to Kathleen in dismay. "I thinkhe's dying, and I can't make the woman listen. "

Something of her father's stern decisiveness of character was inKathleen Pierce. 

"Don't be a fool!" she said briskly to the mother, and she plucked thechild away from her. "Start the car, Esmé. "

The woman began to shriek. A crowd gathered. O'Farrell providentiallyappeared from around a corner. "Grab her, you, " she directed O'Farrell. 

The politician hesitated. "What's the game?" he began. Then he caughtsight of Esmé. "Oh, it's you, Miss Elliot. Sure. Hi! Can it!" heshouted, fending off the distracted mother. "They'll take the kid to thehospital. See? You go along quiet, now. "

Speeding beyond all laws, but under protection of their red cross, theyall but ran down Dr. Merritt and stopped to take him in. He confirmedEsmé's diagnosis. 

"It'll be touch and go whether we save him, " said he. 

Esmé carried the stricken child into the hospital ward. The twovolunteers waited outside for word. In an hour it came. The boy wouldprobably live, thanks to their promptitude. 

"But you ought not to be picking up chance infants around the district, "he protested. "It isn't safe. "

"Oh, we belong to the St. Bernard tribe, " retorted Miss Pierce. "Wetake 'em as we find 'em. Hugh, come and lunch with us. "

The grayish young man looked at her wistfully. "Haven't time, " he said. 

"No: I didn't suppose you'd step aside from the thorny path, even toeat, " she retorted; and Esmé, hearing the new tone under the flippantwords, knew that all was well with the girl, and envied her with a greatand gentle envy. 

CHAPTER XXXIV

VOX POPULI

These were the days when Hal Surtaine worked with a sense of wildfreedom from all personal bonds. He had definitely broken with hisfather. He had challenged every interest in Worthington from which therewas anything to expect commercially. He had peremptorily banished EsméElliot from his heart and his hopes, though she still forced entrance tohis thoughts and would not be denied, there, the precarious rights of anundesired guest. He was now simply and solely a journalist with a mindsingle to his purpose, to go down fighting the best fight there was inhim. Defeat, he believed, was practically certain. He would make it adefeat of which no man need be ashamed. 

The handling of the epidemic news, Hal left to his colleagues, devotinghis own pen to a vigorous defense of the "Clarion's" position andassertion of its policy, in the editorial columns. Concealment andsuppression, he pointed out, had been the chief factor in the disastrousspread of the contagion. Early recognition of the danger and a frankfighting policy would have saved most of the sacrificed lives. The blamelay, not with those who had disclosed the peril, but with those who hadfostered it by secrecy; probing deeper into it, with those who hadblocked such reform of housing and sanitation as would have checked afilth disease like typhus. In time this would be indicated morespecifically. Tenements which netted twelve per cent to their owners andbred plagues, the "Clarion" observed editorially, were good private butpoor public investments. Whereupon a number of highly regardedChristian citizens began to refer to the editor as an anarchist. 

The "Clarion" principle of ascertaining "the facts behind the news" hadled naturally to an inquiry into ownership of the Rookeries. Wayne hadthis specifically in charge and reported sensational results from thefirst. 

"It'll be a corking follow-up feature, " he said. "Later we can hitch itup to the Housing Reform Bill. "

"Make a fifth page full spread of it for Monday. "

"With pictures of the owners, " suggested Wayne. 

"Why not this way? Make a triple lay-out for each one. First, a pictureof the tenement with the number of deaths and cases underneath. Then thehalf-tone of the owner. And, beyond, the picture of the house he livesin. That'll give contrast. "

"Good!" said Wayne. "Fine and yellow. "

By Sunday, four days after the opening story, all the material for thesecond big spread was ready except for one complication. Some involutionof trusteeship in the case of two freeholds in Sadler's Shacks, at theheart of the Rookeries, had delayed access to the records. These twowere Number 3 and Number 9 Sperry Street, the latter dubbed "thePest-Egg" by the "Clarion, " as being the tenement in which thepestilence was supposed to have originated. These two last clues, Waynewas sure, would be run down before evening. Already the net of publicityhad dragged in, among other owners of the dangerous property, a highcity official, an important merchant, a lady much given to blatantplatform philanthropies, and the Reverend Dr. Wales's fashionablechurch. It was, indeed, a noble company of which the "Clarion" proposedto make martyrs on the morrow. 

One man quite unconnected with any twelve per cent ownership, however, had sworn within his ravaged soul that there should be no morrow's"Clarion. " Max Veltman, four days previously, had crawled home to hisapartment after a visit to the drug store where he had purchasedcertain acids. With these he worked cunningly and with completeabsorption in his pursuit, neither stirring out of his own place norcommunicating with any fellow being. Consequently he knew nothing of thesensation which had convulsed Worthington, nor of the "Clarion's" changeof policy. To his inflamed mind the Surtaine organ was a noxious thing, and Harrington Surtaine the guilty partner in the profits of Milly'sdeath who had rejected the one chance to make amends. 

Carrying a carefully wrapped bundle, he went forth into the streets onSunday evening, and wandered into the Rookeries district. A red-neckedman, standing on a barrel, was making a speech to a big crowd gatheredat one of the corners. Dimly-heard, the word "Clarion" came to Veltman'sears. 

"What's he saying?" he asked a neighbor. 

"He's roastin' the ---- ---- 'Clarion, '" replied the man. "We ought to goup there an' tear the buildin' down. "

To Veltman it seemed quite natural that popular rage should be directedtoward the object of his hatred. He sat down weakly upon the curb andwaited to see what would happen. 

Another chance auditor of that speech did not wait. McGuire Ellis stayedjust long enough to scent danger, and hurried back to the office. 

"Trouble brewing down in the Rookeries, " he told Hal. 

"More than usual?"

"Different from the usual. There's a mob considering paying us a visit. "

"The new press!" exclaimed Hal. 

"Just what I was thinking. A rock or a bullet in its pretty littleinsides would cost money. "

"We'd better notify Police Headquarters. "

"I have. They gave me the laugh. Told me it was a pipe-dream. They'resore on us because of our attack on the department for dodging saloonlaw enforcement. "

"I don't like this, Mac, " said Hal. "What a fool I was to put the pressin the most exposed place. "

"Fortify it. "

"With what?"

"The rolls. "

Print-paper comes from the pulp-mills in huge cylinders, seven feet longby four in diameter. The highest-powered small arm could not send abullet through the close-wrapped fabric. Ellis's plan offered perfectprotection if there was enough material to build the fortification. Theentire pressroom force was at once set to work, and in half an hour thedelicate and costly mechanism was protected behind an impenetrablebarrier which shut it off from view except at the south end. The supplyof rolls had fallen a little short. 

"Let 'em smash the window if they like, " said Ellis. "Plate-glassinsurance covers that. I wish we had something for that corner. "

"With a couple of revolvers we could guard it from these windows, " saidHal. "But where are we to get revolvers on a Sunday night?"

"Leave that to me, " said Ellis, and went out. 

Hal, standing at the open second-story window, surveyed the strategicpossibilities of the situation. His outer office jutting out into anarrow L overlooked, from a broad window, the empty space of the street. From the front he could just see the press, behind its plate-glass. Thiswas set back some ten feet from the sidewalk line proper, and markingthe outer boundary stood a row of iron posts of old and dubious origin, formerly connected by chains. Hal had a wish that they were still sojoined. They would have served, at least, as a hypothetical guard-line. The flagged and slightly depressed space between these and the front ofthe building, while actually of private ownership, had long beenregarded as part of the thoroughfare. Overlooking it from the north end, opposite Hal's office, was another window, in the reference room. Anykind of gunnery from those vantage-spots would guard the press. Butwould the mere threat of firing suffice? That is what Hal wished toknow. He had no desire to pump bullets into a close-packed crowd. On theother hand, he did not propose to let any mob ruin his property withouta fight. His military reverie was interrupted by the entrance of BimCurrier, followed by Dr. Elliot. 

"Why the fortification?" asked the latter. 

"We've heard rumors of a mob attack. "

"So've I. That's why I'm here. Want any help?"

"Why, you're very kind, " began Hal dubiously; "but--"

"Rope off that space, " cut in the brisk doctor, seizing, with apracticed eye, upon the natural advantage of the sentinel posts. "Gotany rope?"

"Yes. There's some in the pressroom. It isn't very strong. "

"No matter. Moral effect. Mobs always stop to think, at a line. I know. I've fought 'em before. "

"This is very good of you, to come--"

"Not a bit of it. I noticed what the 'Clarion' did to its medicaladvertisers. I like your nerve. And I like a fight, in a good cause. Have 'em paint up some signs to put along the ropes. 'Danger. '--'KeepOut. '--'Trespassers Enter Here at their Peril'; and that sort of thing. "

"I'll do it, " said Hal, going to the telephone to give the orders. 

While he was thus engaged, McGuire Ellis entered. 

"Hello!" the physician greeted him. "What have you got there?Revolvers?"

"Count 'em; two, " answered Ellis. 

"Gimme one, " said the visitor, helping himself to a long-barreled . 45. 

"Here! That's for Hal Surtaine, " protested Ellis. 

"Not by a jug-ful! He's too hot-headed. Besides, can he afford to be init if there _should_ be any serious trouble? Think of the paper!"

"You're right there, " agreed Ellis, struck by the keen sense of thisview. "If they could lay a killing at his door, even in self-defense--"

"Pree-cisely! Whereas, I don't intend to shoot unless I have to, andprobably not then. "

They explained the wisdom of this procedure to Hal, who reluctantlyadmitted it, agreeing to leave the weapons in the hands of Dr. Elliotand McGuire Ellis. 

"Put Ellis here in this window. I'll hold the fort yonder. " He pointedacross the space to the reference room in the opposite L. "Nine timesout of ten a mob don't really--" He stopped abruptly, his facestiffening with surprise, and some other emotion, which Hal for themoment failed to interpret. Following the direction of his glance, thetwo other men turned. Dr. Surtaine, suave and smiling, was advancingacross the floor. 

"Ellis, how are you? Good-evening, Dr. Elliot. Ah! Pistols?"

"Yes. Have one?" invited Ellis smoothly. 

"I brought one with me. " He tugged at his pocket, whence emerged a cheapand shiny weapon. Hal shuddered, recognizing it. It was the revolverwhich Milly Neal had carried. 

"So you've heard?" asked Ellis. 

"Ten minutes ago. I haven't any idea it will amount to much, but Ithought I ought to be here in case of danger. "

Dr. Elliot grunted. Ellis, suggesting that they take a look at the otherdefense, tactfully led him away, leaving father and son together. Theyhad not seen each other since the Emergency Health Committee meeting. Something of the quack's glossy jauntiness faded out of his bearing ashe turned to Hal. 

"Boy-ee, " he began diffidently, "there's been a pretty bad mistake. "

"There's been worse than that, " said Hal sadly. 

"About Milly Neal. I thought--I thought it was you that got her intotrouble. "

"Why? For God's sake, why?"

"Don't be too hard on me, " pleaded the other. "I'd heard about theroad-house. And then, what she said to you. It all fitted in. Hale putme right. Boy-ee, I can sleep again, now that I know it wasn't you. "

The implication caught at Hal's throat. 

"Why, Dad, " he said lamely, "if you'd only come to me and asked--"

"Somehow I couldn't. I was waiting for you to tell me. " He slid his bighand over Hal's shoulder, and clutched him in a sudden, jerky squeeze, his face averted. 

"Now, that's off our minds, " he said, in a loud and hearty voice. "Wecan--"

"Wait a minute. Father, you saw the story in the 'Clarion, '--the storyof Milly's death?"

"Yes, I saw that. "

"Well?"

"I suppose you did what you thought was right, Boy-ee. "

"I did what I had to do. I hated it. "

"I'm glad to know that much, anyway. "

"But I'd do it again, exactly the same. "

The Doctor turned troubled eyes on his son. "Hasn't there been enoughjudging of each other between you and me, Boy-ee?" he asked sorrowfully. 

In wretched uncertainty how to meet this appeal, Hal hesitated. He wassaved from decision by the return of McGuire Ellis. 

"No movement yet from the enemy's camp, " he reported. "I just had atelephone from Hale's club. "

"Perhaps they won't come, after all, " surmised Hal. 

"There's pretty hot talk going. Somebody's been helping along byserving free drinks. "

"Now who could that be, I wonder?"

"Maybe some of our tenement-owning politician friends who aren't keenabout having to-morrow's 'Clarion' appear. "

"We ought to have a reporter down there, Mac. "

"Denton's there. Well, as there's nothing doing, I'll tackle a littlework. " And seating himself at his desk beside the broad window Ellisproceeded to annihilate some telegraph copy, fresh off the wire. Withthe big tenement story spread, the morrow's paper would be straitenedfor space. Excusing himself to his father, Hal stepped into his privateoffice--and recoiled in uttermost amazement. There, standing in thefurther doorway, lovely, palpitant, with the color flushing in hercheeks and the breath fluttering in her throat, stood Esmé Elliot. 

"Oh!" she gasped, stretching out her hands to him. "I've tried so to getyou by 'phone. There's a mob coming--"

"Yes, I know, " said Hal gently. He led her to a chair. "We're ready forthem. "

"Are you? I'm so glad. I was afraid you wouldn't know in time. "

"How did you find out?"

"I've been working with Mr. Hale down in the district. I heard rumors ofit. Then I listened to what the people said, and I hurried here in mycar to warn you. They're drunk, and mean trouble. "

"That was good of you! I appreciate it. "

"No. It was a debt. I owed it to the 'Clarion. ' You've been--splendidabout the typhus. "

"Worthington doesn't look at it that way, " returned Hal, with a rathergrim smile. 

"When they understand, they will. "

"Perhaps. But, see here, you can't stay. There may be danger. It'sawfully good of you to come. But you must get away. "

She looked at him sidelong. In her coming she had been the new Esmé, theEsmé who was Norman Hale's most unselfish and unsparing worker, the Esméwho thought for others, all womanly. But, now that the strain hadrelaxed, she reverted, just a little, to her other self. It was, for themoment, the Great American Pumess who spoke:--

"Won't you even say you're glad to see me?"

"Glad!" The echo leaped to his lips and the fire to his eyes as the oldunconquered longing and passion surged over him. "I don't think I'veknown what gladness is since that night at your house. "

Her eyes faltered away from his. "I don't think I quite understand, " shesaid weakly; then, with a change to quick resolution:--

"There is something I must tell you. You have a right to know it. It'sabout the paper. Will you come to see me to-morrow?"

"Yes. But go now. No! Wait!"

From without sounded a dull murmur pierced through with an occasionalwhoop, jubilant rather than threatening. 

"Too late, " said Hal quietly. "They're coming. "

"I'm not afraid. "

"But I am--for you. Stay in this room. If they should break into thebuilding, go up those stairs and get to the roof. They won't comethere. "

He went into the outer room, closing the door behind him. 

From both directions and down a side street as well the dwellers in theslums straggled into the open space in front of the "Clarion" office. ToHal they seemed casual, purposeless; rather prankish, too, like a lot ofurchins out on a lark. Several bore improvised signs, uncomplimentary tothe "Clarion. " They seemed surprised when they encountered the ropebarrier with its warning placards. There were mutterings and queries. 

"No serious harm in them, " opined Dr. Elliot, to whom Hal had gone tosee whether he wanted anything. "Just mischief. A few rocks maybe, andthen they'll go home. Look at old Mac. "

Opposite them, at his brilliantly lighted window desk, sat McGuireEllis, in full view of the crowd below, conscientiously blue-pencilingtelegraph copy. 

"Hey, Mac!" yelled an acquaintance in the street. "Come down and have adrink. "

The associate editor lifted his head. "Don't be young, " he retorted. "Gohome and sleep it off. " And reverted to his task. 

"What are we doin' here, anyway?" roared some thirster for information. 

Nobody answered. But, thus recalled to a purpose, the mob pressedagainst the ropes. 

"Ladies _and_ gentlemen!" A great, rounded voice boomed out above them, drawing every eye to the farthermost window where stood Dr. Surtaine, his chest swelling with ready oratory. 

"Hooray!" yelled the crowd. "Good Old Doc!"--"He pays thefreight. "--"Speech!"

"Say, Doc, " bawled a waggish soul, "I gotta corn, marchin' up here. WillCertina cure it?"

And another burst into the final lines of a song then popular; in whichhe was joined by several of his fellows:

 "Father, he drinks Seltzer. Redoes, like hell! (_Crescendo_. ) He drinks Cer-tee-nah!"

"Ladies _and_ gentlemen, " boomed the wily charlatan. "Unaccustomed as Iam to _extempore_ speaking, I cannot let pass this opportunity towelcome you. We appreciate this testimonial of your regard for the'Clarion. ' We appreciate, also, that it is a warm night and a thirstyone. Therefore, I suggest that we all adjourn back to the Old TwelfthWard, where, if the authorities will kindly look the other way, I shallbe delighted to provide liquid refreshments for one and all in which todrink to the health and prosperity of an enlightened free press. "

The crowd rose to him with laughter. "Good old Sport!"--"Mine'sCertina. "--"Come down and make good. "--"Free booze, free speech, freepress!"--"You're on, Doc! You're on. "

"He's turned the trick, " growled Dr. Elliot to Hal. "He's a smooth one!"

Indeed, the crowd wavered, with that peculiar swaying which presages ageneral movement. At the south end there was a particularly densegathering, and there some minor struggle seemed to be in progress. Criesrose: "Let him through. "--"What's he want?"

"It's Max Veltman, " said Hal, catching sight of a wild, strained face. "What is he up to?"

The former "Clarion" man squirmed through the front rank and crawledslowly under the ropes. Above the murmur of confused tones, a voice ofterror shrilled out:

"He's got a bomb. "

The mass surged back from the spot. Veltman, moving forward upon theunprotected south end of the press, was fumbling at his pocket. "I'llfix your free and enlightened press, " he screamed. 

Dr. Elliot turned on Hal with an imperative question. 

"Is it true, do you think? Will he do it? Quick!"

"Crazy, " said Hal. 

"God forgive me!" prayed the ex-navy man as his arm whipped up. 

There were two quick reports. At the second, Veltman stopped, halfturned, threw his arms widely outward, and vanished in a blinding glare, accompanied by a gigantic _snap!_ as if a mountain of rock had beenriven in twain. 

To Hal it seemed that the universe had disintegrated in thatconcussion. Blackness surrounded him. He was on the floor, halfcrouching, and, to his surprise, unhurt. Groping his way to the windowhe leaned out above an appalling silence. It endured only a moment. Thenrose the terrible clamor of a mob in panic-stricken flight, above aninsistent undertone of groans, sobs, and prayers. 

"I had to kill him, " muttered Dr. Elliot's shaking voice at Hal's ear. "There was just the one chance before he could throw his bomb. "

Every light in the building had gone out. Guiding himself by the lightof matches, Hal hurried across to his den. He heard Esmé's voice beforehe could make her out, standing near the door. "Is any one hurt?"

Hal breathed a great sigh. "You're all right, then! We don't know howbad it is. "

"An explosion?"

"Veltman threw a bomb. He's killed. "

"Boy-ee!" called Dr. Surtaine. 

"Here, Dad. You're safe?"

"Yes. "

"Thank God! Careful with that match! The place is strewn with papers. "

Men from below came hurrying in with candles, which are part of everynewspaper's emergency equipment. They reported no serious injuries tothe staff or the equipment. Although the plate-glass window had beenshattered into a million fragments and the inner fortification toppledover, the precious press had miraculously escaped injury. But in astrewn circle, outside, lay rent corpses, and the wounded pitifullystriving to crawl from that shambles. 

With the steadiness which comes to nerves racked to the point ofcollapse, Hal made the rounds of the building. Two men in the pressroomwere slightly hurt. Their fellows would look after them. Wayne, with hismen, was already in the street, combining professional duty with firstaid. The scattered and stricken mob had begun to sift back, only asubdued and curious crowd now. Then came the ambulances and the belatedpolice, systematizing the work. 

Quarter of an hour had passed when Dr. Surtaine, Esmé Elliot, heruncle--much surprised at finding her there--and Hal stood in theeditorial office, hardly able yet to get their bearings. 

"I shall give myself up to the authorities, " decided Dr. Elliot. He wasdeadly pale, but of unshaken nerve. 

"Why?" cried Hal. "It was no fault of yours. "

"Rules of the game. Well, young man, you have a paper to get out forto-morrow, though the heavens fall. Good-night. "

Hal gripped at his hand. "I don't know how to thank you--" he began. 

"Don't try, then, " was the gruff retort. "Where's Mac?"

He turned to McGuire Ellis's desk to bid that sturdy toiler good-night. There, dimly seen through the flickering candlelight, the undisputedShort-Distance Slumber Champion of the World sat, his head on his arms, in his familiar and favorite attitude of snatching a few moments'respite from a laborious existence. 

"Will you _look_ at _that!_" cried the physician in utmost amazement. 

At the sight a wild surge of mirth overwhelmed Hal's hair-triggernerves. He began to laugh, with strange, quick catchings of the breath:to laugh tumultuously, rackingly, unendurably. 

"Stop it!" shouted Dr. Elliot, and smote him a sledge-blow between theshoulders. 

For the moment the hysteria was jarred out of Hal. He gasped, gurgled, and took a step toward his assistant. 

"Hey, Mac! Wake up! You've spilled your ink. "

[Illustration: "DON'T GO NEAR HIM. DON'T LOOK"]

Before he could speak or move further, Esmé Elliot's arms were abouthim. Her face was close to his. He could feel the strong pressure ofher breast against him as she forced him back. 

"No, no!" she was pleading, in a swift half-whisper. "Don't go near him. Don't look. _Please_ don't. Come away. "

He set her aside. A candlelight flared high. From Ellis's desk trickleda little stream. Dr. Elliot was already bending over the slackened form. 

"So it wasn't ink, " said Hal slowly. "Is he dead, Dr. Elliot?"

"No, " snapped the other. "Esmé, bandages! Quick! Your petticoat! That'lldo. Get another candle. Dr. Surtaine, help me lift him. There! Surtaine, bring water. _Do you hear?_ Hurry!"

When Hal returned, uncle and niece were working with silent deftnessover Ellis, who lay on the floor. The wounded man opened his eyes uponhis employer's agonized face. 

"Did he get the press?" he gasped. 

"Keep quiet, " ordered the Doctor. "Don't speak. "

"Did he get the press?" insisted Ellis obstinately. 

"Mac! Mac!" half sobbed Hal, bending over him. "I thought you weredead. " And his tears fell on the blood-streaked face. 

"Don't be young, " growled Ellis faintly. "Did--he--get--the--press?"

"No. "

The wounded man's eyes closed. "All right, " he murmured. 

Up to the time that the ambulance surgeons came to carry Ellis away, Dr. Elliot was too busy with him even to be questioned. Only after the stillburden had passed through the door did he turn to Hal. 

"A piece of metal carried away half the back of his neck, " he said. "Andwe let him sit there, bleeding his life away!"

"Is there any chance?" demanded Hal. 

"I doubt if they'll get him to the hospital alive. "

"The best man in Worthington!" said Hal passionately. "Oh!" He shook hisclenched fists at the outer darkness. "I'll make somebody pay for this. "

Esmé's hand fell upon his arm. "Do you want me to stay?" she asked. 

"No. You must go home. It's been a terrible thing for you. "

"I'll go to the hospital, " she said, "and I'll 'phone you as soon asthere is any news. "

"Better come home with me, Hal, " said his father gently. 

The younger man turned with an involuntary motion toward the desk, stillwet with his friend's blood. 

"I'll stay on the job, " he said. 

Understanding, the father nodded his sympathy. "Yes; I guess that wouldhave been Mac's way, " said he. 

Work pressing upon the editor from all sides came as a boon. The paperhad to be made over for the catastrophe which, momentarily, overshadowedthe typhus epidemic in importance. In hasty consultation, it was decidedthat the "special" on the ownership of the infected tenements should beset aside for a day, to make space. Hal had to make his own statement, not alone for the "Clarion, " but for the other newspapers, whoserepresentatives came seeking news and also--what both surprised andtouched him--bearing messages of sympathy and congratulation, and offersof any help which they could extend from men to pressroomaccommodations. Not until nearly two o'clock in the morning did Hal findtime to draw breath over an early proof, which stated the casualties asseven killed outright, including Veltman who was literally torn topieces, and twenty-two seriously wounded. 

From his reading Hal was called to the 'phone. Esmé's voice came to himwith a note of hope and happiness. 

"Oh, Hal, they say there's a chance! Even a good chance! They'veoperated, and it isn't as bad as it looked at first. I'm so glad foryou. "

"Thank you, " said Hal huskily. "And--bless you! You've been an angelto-night. "

There was a pause: then, "You'll come to see me--when you can?"

"To-morrow, " said he. "No--to-day. I forgot. "

They both laughed uncertainly, and bade each other good-night. 

Hal stayed through until the last proof. In the hallway a heavy figurelifted itself from a chair in a corner as he came out. 

"Dad!" exclaimed Hal. 

"I thought I'd wait, " said the charlatan wistfully. 

No other word was necessary. "I'll be glad to be home again, " said Hal. "You can lend me some pajamas?"

"They're laid out on your bed. Every night. "

The two men passed down the stairs, arm in arm. At the door they paused. Through the building ran a low tremor, waxing to a steady thrill. Thepresses were throwing out to the world once again their irrevocablemessage of fact and fate. 

CHAPTER XXXV

TEMPERED METAL

Monday's newspapers startled Hal Surtaine. Despite the sympatheticattitude expressed after the riot by the other newspaper men, he had notcounted upon the unanimous vigor with which the local press took up thecudgels for the "Clarion. " That potent and profound guild-fellowship ofnewspaperdom, which, when once aroused, overrides all individual rivalryand jealousy, had never before come into the young editor's experience. 

To his fellow editors the issue was quite clear. Here was an attack, notupon one newspaper alone, but upon the principle of journalisticindependence. Little as the "Banner, " the "Press, " the "Telegram, " andtheir like had practiced independence of thought or writing, they couldboth admire and uphold it in another. Their support was as genuine as itwas generous. The police department, and, indeed, the whole cityadministration of Worthington, came in for scathing and universaldenunciation, in that they had failed to protect the "Clarion" againstthe mob's advance. 

The evening papers got out special bulletins on McGuire Ellis. None toohopeful they were, for the fighting journalist, after a brief rally, hadsunk into a condition where life was the merest flicker. Always apicturesque and well-liked personality, Ellis now became a species ofpopular hero. Sympathy centralized on him, and through him attachedtemporarily to the "Clarion" itself, which he now typified in the publicimagination. His condition, indeed, was just so much sentimental capitalto the paper, as the Honorable E. M. Pierce savagely put it to WilliamDouglas. Nevertheless, the two called at the hospital to make politeinquiries, as did scores of their fellow leading citizens. Ellis, stricken down, was serving his employer well. 

Not that Hal knew this, nor, had he known it, would have cared. Sick atheart, he waited about the hospital reception room for such meager hopesas the surgeons could give him, until an urgent summons compelled him togo to the office. Wayne had telephoned for him half a dozen times, finally leaving a message that he must see him on a point in thetenement-ownership story, to be run on the morrow. 

Wayne, at the moment of Hal's arrival, was outside the rail talking to avisitor. On the copy-book beside his desk was stuck an illustrationproof, inverted. Idly Hal turned it, and stood facing his final andworst ordeal of principle. The half-tone picture, lovely, suave, alluring, smiled up into his eyes from above its caption:--

 "_Miss Esmé Elliot, Society Belle and Owner of No. 9 Sadler's Shacks, Known as the Pest-Egg. "_

"You've seen it, " said Wayne's voice at his elbow. 

"Yes. "

"Well; it was that I wanted to ask you about. "

"Ask it, " said Hal, dry-lipped. 

"I knew you were a--a friend of Miss Elliot's. We can kill it out yet. It--it isn't absolutely necessary to the story, " he added, pityingly. 

He turned and looked away from a face that had grown swiftly old underhis eyes. In Hal's heart there was a choking rush of memories: theconquering loveliness of Esmé; her sweet and loyal womanliness andcomradeship of the night before; the half-promise in her tones as shehad bid him come to her; the warm pressure of her arms fending him fromthe sight of his friend's blood; and, far back, her voice saying soconfidently, "I'd trust you, " in answer to her own supposititious testas to what he would do if a news issue came up, involving herhappiness. 

Blotting these out came another picture, a swathed head, quiet upon apillow. In that moment Hal knew that he was forever done withsuppressions and evasions. Nevertheless, he intended to be as fair toEsmé as he would have been to any other person under attack. 

"You're sure of the facts?" he asked Wayne. 

"Certain. "

"How long has she owned it?"

"Oh, years. It's one of those complicated trusteeships. "

Hope sprang up in Hal's soul. "Perhaps she doesn't know about it. "

"Isn't she morally bound to know? We've assumed moral responsibility inthe other trusteeships. Of course, if you want to make a difference--"Wayne, again wholly the journalist, jealous for the standards of hiscraft, awaited his chief's decision. 

"No. Have you sent a man to see her?"

"Yes. She's away. "

"Away? Impossible!"

"That's what they said at the house. The reporter got the notion thatthere was something queer about her going. Scared out, perhaps. "

Hal thought of the proud, frank eyes, and dismissed that hypothesis. Whatever Esmé's responsibility, he did not believe that she would shirkthe onus of it. 

"Dr. Elliot?" he enquired. 

"Refused all information and told the reporter to go to the devil. "

Hal sighed. "Run the story, " he said. 

"And the picture?"

"And the picture. "

Going out he left directions with the telephone girl to try to get MissElliot and tell her that it would be impossible for him to call thatday. 

"She will understand when she sees the paper in the morning, " hethought. "Or think she understands, " he amended ruefully. 

The telephone girl did not get Miss Elliot, for good and sufficientreasons, but succeeded in extracting a promise from the maiden cousin atGreenvale that the message would be transmitted. 

Through the day and far into the night Hal worked unsparingly, findingtime somehow to visit or call up the hospital every hour. At midnightthey told him that Ellis was barely holding his own. Hal put the"Clarion" to bed that night, before going to the Surtaine mansion, hopeless of sleep, yet, nevertheless, so worn out that he sank intoinstant slumber as soon as he had drawn the sheets over him. On his wayto the office in the morning, he ran full upon Dr. Elliot. For a momentHal thought that the ex-officer meant to strike him with the cane whichhe raised. It sank. 

"You miserable hound!" said Dr. Elliot. 

Hal stood, silent. 

"What have you to say for yourself?"

"Nothing. "

"My niece came to your office to save your rag of a sheet. I shot down apoor crazy devil in your defense. And this is how you repay us. "

Hal faced him, steadfast, wretched, determined upon only one thing: toendure whatever he might say or do. 

"Do you know who's really responsible for that tenement? Answer me!"

"No. "

"I! I! I!" shouted the infuriated man. 

"You? The records show--"

"Damn the records, sir! The property was trusteed years ago. I shouldhave looked after it, but I never even thought of its being what it is. And my niece didn't know till this morning that she owned it. "

"Why didn't you say so to our reporter, then?" cried Hal eagerly. "Letus print a statement from you, from her--"

"In your sheet? If you so much as publish her name again--By Heavens, Iwish it were the old days, I'd call you out and kill you. "

"Dr. Elliot, " said Hal quietly, "did you think I wanted to print thatabout Esmé?"

"Wanted to? Of course you wanted to. You didn't have to, did you?"

"Yes. "

"What compelled you?" demanded the other. 

"You won't understand, but I'll tell you. The 'Clarion' compelled me. Itwas news. "

"News! To blackguard a young girl, ignorant of the very thing you'veheld her up to shame for! The power of the press! A power to smirch thenames of decent people. And do you know where my girl is now, on thisday when your sheet is smearing her name all over the town?" demandedthe physician, his voice shaking with wrath and grief. "Do you knowthat--you who know everybody's business?"

Chill fear took hold upon Hal. "No, " he said. 

"In quarantine for typhus. Here! Keep off me!"

For Hal, stricken with his first experience of that black, descendingmist which is just short of unconsciousness, had clutched at the other'sshoulder to steady himself. 

"Where?" he gasped. 

"I won't tell you, " retorted the Doctor viciously. "You might makeanother article out of that, of the kind you enjoy so much. "

But this was too ghastly a joke. Hal straightened, and lifted his headto an eye-level with his denouncer. "Enjoy!" he said, in a low tone. "You may guess how much when I tell you that I've loved Esmé with everydrop of my blood since the first time I ever spoke with her. "

The Doctor's grim regard softened a little. "If I tell you, you won'tpublish it? Or give it away? Or try to communicate with her? I won'thave her pestered. "

"My word of honor. "

"She's at the typhus hospital. "

"And she's got typhus?" groaned Hal. 

"No. Who said she had it? She's been exposed to it. "

Hardly was the last word out of his mouth when he was alone. Hal hadmade a dash for a taxi. "Health Bureau, " he cried. 

By good fortune he found Dr. Merritt in. 

"You've got Esmé Elliot at the typhus hospital, " he said breathlessly. 

"Yes. In the isolation ward. "

"Why?"

"She's been exposed. She carried a child, in convulsions, into thehospital. The child developed typhus late Saturday night; must have beeninfected at the time. As soon as I knew, I sent for her, and she camelike the brave girl she is, yesterday morning. "

"Will she get the fever?"

"God forbid! Every precaution has been taken. "

"Merritt, that's an awful place for a girl like Miss Elliot. Get herout. "

"Don't ask me! I've got to treat all exposed cases alike. "

"But, Merritt, " pleaded Hal, "in this case an exception can't injure anyone. She can be completely quarantined at home. You told Wayne you owedthe 'Clarion' and me a big debt. I wouldn't ask it if it were anythingelse; but--"

"Would you do it yourself?" said the young health officer steadily. "Have you done it in your paper?"

"But this may be her life, " argued the advocate desperately. "Think! Ifit were your sister, or--or the woman you cared for. "

Dr. Merritt's fine mouth quivered and set. "Kathleen Pierce isquarantined with Esmé, " he said quietly. 

The pair looked each other through the eyes into the soul and knew oneanother for men. 

"You're right, Merritt, " said Hal. "I'm sorry I asked. "

"I'll keep you posted, " said the official, as his visitor turned away. 

Meantime, Esmé had volunteered as an emergency nurse, and been gladlyaccepted. In the intervals of her new duties she had received from herdistracted cousin, who had been calling up every half-hour to find outwhether she "had it yet, " Hal's message that he would not be able to seeher that day, and, not having seen the "Clarion, " was at a loss tounderstand it. 

Chance, by all the truly romantic, is supposed to be a sort ofmatrimonial agency, concerned chiefly in bringing lovers together. Inthe rougher realm of actuality it operates quite as often, perhaps, tokeep them apart. Certainly it was no friend to Esmé Elliot on this day. For when later she learned from her guardian of his attack upon Hal(though he took the liberty of editing out the _finale_ of the encounteras he related it), she tried five separate times to reach Hal by 'phone, and each time Chance, the Frustrator, saw to it that Hal was engaged. The inference, to Esmé's perturbed heart, was obvious; he did not wishto speak to her. And to a woman of her spirit there was but one course. She would dismiss him from her mind. Which she did, every night, conscientiously, for many weary days. 

CHAPTER XXXVI

THE VICTORY

Nation-wide sped the news, branding Worthington as a pest-ridden city. Every newspaper in the country had a conspicuous dispatch about it. Thebulletin of the United States Public Health Service, as in duty bound, gave official and statistical currency to the town's misfortune. Othercities in the State threatened a quarantine against Worthington. Commercial travelers and buyers postponed their local visits. The hotelregisters thinned out notably. Business drooped. For all of which the"Clarion" was vehemently blamed by those most concerned. 

Conversely, the paper should have received part credit for the extremelyvigorous campaign which the health authorities, under Dr. Merritt, seton foot at once. Using the "Clarion" exposure as a lever, the healthofficer pried open the Council-guarded city tills for an initialappropriation of ten thousand dollars, got a hasty ordinance passedpenalizing, not the diagnosing of typhus, but failure to diagnose andreport it, --not a man from the Surtaine army of suppression had thetemerity to oppose the measure, --organized a medical inspection anddetection corps, threw a contagion-proof quarantine about every infectedbuilding, hunted down and isolated the fugitives from the danger-pointswho had scattered at the first alarm, inspired the county medicalsociety to an enthusiastic support, bullied the police into a state ofreasonable efficiency, and with a combined volunteer and regular forcefaced the epidemic in military form. Not least conspicuous among thevolunteers were Miss Esmé Elliot and Miss Kathleen Pierce, who had beenreleased from quarantine quite as early as the law allowed, because ofthe need for them at the front. 

"We could never have done our job without you, " said Dr. Merritt to Hal, meeting him by chance one morning ten days after the publication of the"spread. " "If the city is saved from a regular pestilence, it'll be theClarion's' doing. "

"That doesn't seem to be the opinion of the business men of the place, "said Hal, with a rather dreary smile. He had just been going over withthe lugubrious Shearson a batch of advertising cancellations. 

"Oh, don't look for any credit from this town, " retorted the healthofficer. "I'm practically ostracized, already, for my share in it. "

"But are you beating it out?"

"God knows, " answered the other. "I thought we'd traced all the foci ofinfection. But two new localities broke out to-day. That's the way anepidemic goes. "

And that is the way the Worthington typhus went for more than a month. Throughout that month the "Clarion" was carrying on an anti-epidemiccampaign of its own, with the slogan "Don't Give up Old Home Week. " Wisestrategy this, in a double sense. It rallied public effort for victoryby a definite date, for the Committee on Arrangements, despite thearguments of the weak-kneed among its number, and largely by virtue ofthe militant optimism of its chairman, had decided to go on with thecentennial celebration if the city could show a clean bill of health byAugust 30, thus giving six weeks' leeway. 

Furthermore, it put the "Clarion" in the position of champion of thecity's commercial interests and daily bade defiance to those whodeclared the paper an enemy and a traitor to business. In editorials, ininterviews, in educational articles on hygiene and sanitation, in acourse of free lectures covering the whole city and financed by thepaper itself, the "Clarion" carried on the fight with unflagging zeal. Slowly it began to win back general confidence and much of thepopularity which it had lost. One of its reporters in the course of hiswork contracted the fever and barely pulled through alive, therebylending a flavor of possible martyrdom to the cause. McGuire Ellis'sdesperate fight for life also added to the romantic element which is sopotent an asset with the sentimental American public. Business, however, still sulked. The defiance to its principles was too flagrant to bepassed over. If the "Clarion" pulled through, the press would loserespect for the best interests and the vested privileges of commercialWorthington. Indeed, others of the papers, since the "Clarion's"declaration of independence, had exhibited a deplorable tendency todisregard hints hitherto having the authority of absolutism over them. 

In withholding advertising patronage from the Surtaine daily, thebusiness men were not only seeking reprisals, but also following a soundbusiness principle. For according to information sedulously spreadabroad, it was doubtful whether the "Clarion" would long survive. EliasM. Pierce's boast that he would put it out of business gained literalinterpretation, as he had intended that it should. Contrary to hisaccustomed habit of reticence, he had sought occasion to inform hisfriends that he expected verdicts against the libeler of his daughterwhich would throw the concern into bankruptcy, and, perhaps, itsproprietor into jail. No advertiser cares to put money into apublication which may fail next week. Hence, though the circulation ofthe "Clarion" went up pretty steadily, the advertising patronage did notkeep pace. Hal found himself hard put to it, at times, to cling to hisdogged hopes. But it was worth while fighting it out to the last dollar. So much he was assured of by the messages of praise and support whichbegan to come in to him, not from "representative citizens, " but fromthe earnest, thoughtful, and often obscure toilers and thinkers of thecity: clergymen, physicians, laboring-men, working-women, sociologicalworkers--his peers. 

Then, too, there was the profound satisfaction of promised victory overthe pest. For at the end of six weeks the battle was practically won; bywhat heroisms, at the cost of what sacrifices, through whatdisappointments, reversals, and set-backs, against the subtleties ofwhat underground opposition of political influence and twelve per centfinance, is not to be set down here. The government publications tell, in their brief and pregnant records, this story of one of the mostcomplete and brilliant victories in the history of American hygiene. Myconcern is with the story, not of the typhus epidemic, but of a man whofought for and surrendered and finally retrieved his own manhood and thehonor of the paper which was his honor. His share, no small one, in thewiping-out of the pestilence was, to him, but part of the war for whichhe had enlisted. 

But though the newspapers, with one joyous voice, were able to announceearly in August, on the authority of the federal reports, "No new casein a week, " the success of Old Home Week still swayed in the balance. Outside newspapers, which had not forgotten the scandal of the smallpoxsuppression years before, hinted that the record might not be as clearas it appeared. The President of the United States, they pointed out, who was to be the guest of honor and the chief feature of thecelebration, would not be justified in going to a city over which anysuspicion of pestilence still hovered. In fact, the success or failureof the event practically hung upon the Chief Executive's action. If, now, he decided to withdraw his acceptance, on whatever ground, thecountry would impute it to a justified caution, and would maintainagainst the city that intangible moral quarantine which is so disastrousto its victim. Throughout, Hal Surtaine in his editorial columns hadvigorously maintained that the President would come. It was mostly"bluff. " He had nothing but hope to build on. 

Two more "clean" weeks passed. At the close of the second, Hal stoppedone day at the hospital to see McGuire Ellis, who was finallyconvalescent and was to be discharged on the following week. At the doorof Ellis's room he met Dr. Elliot. Somewhat embarrassed, he steppedaside. The physician stopped. 

"Er--Surtaine, " he said hesitantly. 

"Well?"

"I've had time to think things over. And I've had some talks with Mac. I--I guess I was wrong. "

"You were right enough from your point of view. "

"Think so?" said the other, surprised. 

"Yes. And I know I was right, from mine. "

"Humph!" There was an uncomfortable pause. Then: "I called names. Iapologize. "

"That's all right, then, " returned Hal heartily. 

"Woof!" exhaled the physician. "That's off my chest. Now, I've got anitem for you. "

"For the 'Clarion'?"

"Yep. The President's coming. "

"Coming? To Old Home Week?"

"To Old Home Week. "

"An item! Great Cæsar! A spread! A splurge!! A blurb!!! Where did youget it?"

"From Washington. Just been there. "

"Tell me all of it. "

"Know Redding? He and I saw some tough service together in the oldM. H. S. That's the United States Public Health Service now. Redding's thehead of it; Surgeon-General. First-class man, every way. So I went tosee him and told him we had to have the President, and why. He saw it ina minute. Knew all about the 'Clarion's' fight, too. He went to theWhite House and explained the whole business. The President said that aclean bill of health from the Service was good enough for him, and he'dcome, sure. Here's his letter to the Surgeon-General. It goes out forpublication to-morrow. There's a line in it speaking of the 'Clarion's'good work. "

"Great Cæsar!" said Hal again, rather weakly. 

"Does that square accounts between us?"

"More! A hundred times more! That's the biggest indorsement any paper inthis town ever had. Old Home Week's safe. Did you tell Mac?"

"Yes. He's up there cursing now because they won't let him go to theoffice to plan out the article. "

To the "Clarion, " the presidential encomium was a tremendous boomprofessionally. Financially, however, it was of no immediate avail. Itdid not bring local advertising, and advertising was what the papersorely needed. Still, it did call attention to the paper from outside. Afew good contracts for "foreign" advertising, a department which hadfallen off to almost nothing when Hal discarded all medical "copy, " camein. With these, and a reasonable increase in local support which couldbe counted upon, now that commercial bitterness against the paper wassomewhat mollified, Hal reckoned that he could pull through--if it werenot for the Pierce suits. There was the crux of the situation. Nothingwas being done about them. They had been postponed more than once, onmotion of Pierce's counsel. Now they hung over Hal's head in a suspensefast becoming unbearable. At length he decided that, in fairness to hisstaff, he should warn them of the situation. 

He chose, for the explanation, one of the Talk-It-Over Breakfasts, thefirst one which McGuire Ellis, released temporarily from the hospitalfor the occasion, had attended since his wound. He sat at Hal's right, still pale and thin, but with his look of bulldog obstinacyundiminished; enhanced, rather, by the fact that one ear had beensharpened to a canine pointedness by the missile which had so narrowlygrazed his life. Ellis had been goaded to a pitch of high exasperationby the solicitude and attentions of his fellows. It was his emphaticallyexpressed opinion that the whole gathering lay under a blight ofsuperlative youthfulness. In his mind he exempted Hal, over whosesilence and distraction he was secretly worried. The cause was explainedwhen the chairman rose to close the meeting. 

"There is something I have to say, " he said. "I've put it off longerthan I should. I may have to give up the 'Clarion. ' It depends upon theoutcome of the libel suits brought by E. M. Pierce. If, as we fear, MissCleary, the nurse who was run over, testifies for the prosecution, wecan't win. Then it's only a question of the size of the damages. A bigverdict would mean the ruin of the paper, I'm telling you this so thatyou may have time to look for new jobs. "

There was a long silence. Then a melancholy, musing voice said: "Gee!That's tough! Just as the paper pulled off the Home Week stunt, too. "

"How much of a verdict would bust us?" asked another. 

"Twenty-five thousand dollars, " said Hal, "together with lawyers' fees. I couldn't go on. "

"Say, I know that old hen of a nurse, " said one of the sporting writers, with entire seriousness. "Wonder if it'd do any good to marry her?"

A roar went up from the table at this, somewhat relieving the tension ofthe atmosphere. 

Shearson, the advertising manager, lolling deep in his chair, spoke updiffidently, as soon as he could be heard:

"I ain't rich. But I've put a little wad aside. I could chip in threethou' if that'd help. "

"I've got five hundred that isn't doing a stitch of work, " declaredWainwright. 

"Some of my relations have wads of money, " suggested young Denton. "Iwouldn't wonder if--"

"No, no, no!" cried Hal, in a shaken voice. "I know how well youfellows mean it. But--"

"As a loan, " said Wainwright hopefully. "The paper's good enoughsecurity. "

"_Not_ good enough, " replied Hal firmly. "I can't take it, boys. You--you're a mighty good lot, to offer. Now, about looking for otherplaces--"

"All those that want to quit the 'Clarion, ' stand up, " shouted McGuireEllis. 

Not a man moved. 

"Unanimous, " observed the convalescent. "I thought nobody'd rise tothat. If anybody had, " he added, "I'd have punched him in the eye. "

The gathering adjourned in gloom. 

"All this only makes it harder, Mac, " said Hal to his right-hand manafterward. "They can't afford to stick till we sink. "

"If a sailor can do it, I guess a newspaper man can, " retorted the otherresentfully. "I wish I could poison Pierce. "

At dinner that night Hal found his father distrait. Since the youngerman's return, the old relations had been resumed, though there werestill, of necessity, difficult restraints and reservations in theirtalk. The "Clarion, " however, had ceased to be one of the tabooedsubjects. Since the publication of the President's letter and the savingof Old Home Week, Dr. Surtaine had become an avowed Clarionite. Also hekept in personal touch with the office. This evening, however, it waswith an obvious effort that he asked how affairs were going. Halanswered listlessly that matters were going well enough. 

"No, they aren't, Boy-ee. I heard about your talk to-day. "

"Did you? I'm sorry. I don't want to worry you. "

"Boy-ee, let me back you. "

"I can't, Dad. "

"Because of that old agreement?"

"Partly. "

"Call it a loan, then. I can't stand by and see the paper licked byPierce. Fifty thousand won't touch me. And it'll save you. "

"Please, Dad, I can't do it. "

"Is it because it's Certina money?"

Hal turned miserable eyes on his father. "Hadn't we better keep awayfrom that?"

"I don't get you at all on that, " cried the charlatan. "Why, it'sbusiness. It's legal. If I didn't sell 'em the stuff, somebody elsewould. Why shouldn't I take the money, when it's there?"

"There's no use in my trying to argue it with you, Dad. We're milesapart. "

"That's just it, " sighed the older man. "Oh, well! You couldn't help mypaying the damages if Pierce wins, " he suggested hopefully. 

"Yes. I could even do that. "

"What do you want me to do, Boy-ee?" cried his father, in desperation. "Give up a business worth half a million a year, net?"

"I'm not asking anything, sir. Only let me do the best I can, in the waythat looks right to me. I've got to go back to the office now. Good-night, Dad. "

The arch-quack looked after his son's retreating figure, and his big, animal-like eyes were very tender. 

"I don't know, " he said to himself uncertainly, --"I don't know but whathe's worth it. "

CHAPTER XXXVII

McGUIRE ELLIS WAKES UP

On implication of the Highest Authority we have it that the leopardcannot change his spots. The Great American Pumess is a feline ofanother stripe. Stress of experience and emotion has been known tomodify sensibly her predatory characteristics. In the very beautifulspecimen of the genus which, from time to time, we have had occasion tostudy in these pages, there had taken place, in a few short months, analteration so considerable as to be almost revolutionary. 

Many factors had contributed to the result. No woman of inherentfineness can live close to human suffering, as Esmé had lived in herslum work, without losing something of that centripetal self-concernwhich is the blemish of the present-day American girl. Constantassociation with such men as Hugh Merritt and Norman Hale, men who sawin her not a beautiful and worshipful maiden, but a useful agency in thework which made up their lives, gave her a new angle from which toconsider herself. Then, too, her brief engagement to Will Douglas hadsobered her. For Douglas, whatever his lack of independence andmanliness in his professional relations, had endured the jilting withquiet dignity. But he had suffered sharply, for he had been genuinely inlove with Esmé. She felt his pain the more in that there was the sametooth gnawing at her own heart, though she would not acknowledge it toherself. And this taught her humility and consideration. The Pumess wasnot become a Saint, by any means. She still walked, a lovely peril toevery susceptible male heart. But she no longer thirsted withunquenchable ardor for conquests. 

Meek though a reformed pumess may be, there are limits to meekness. When Miss Eleanor Stanley Maxwell Elliot woke up to find herselfpilloried as an enemy to society, in the very paper which she had triedto save, she experienced mingled emotions shot through with fierystreaks of wrath. Presently these simmered down to a residue of angryamazement and curiosity. If you have been accustomed all your life toregard yourself as an empress of absolute dominance over slavishmasculinity, and are suddenly subjected to a violent slap across theface from the hand of the most highly favored slave, some allowance isdue you of outraged sensibilities. Chiefly, however Esmé wondered WHY. WHY, in large capitals, and with an intensely ascendant inflection. 

Her first impulse had been to telephone Hal a withering message. Moredeliberate thought suggested the wisdom of making sure of her ground, first. The result was a shock. From her still infuriated guardian shehad learned that, technically, she was the owner, with full moralresponsibility for the "Pest-Egg. " The information came like a dash ofextremely cold water, which no pumess, reformed or otherwise, likes. Miss Elliot sat her down to a thoughtful consideration of the "Clarion. "She found she was in good company. Several other bright and shininglights of the local firmament, social, financial, and commercial, sharedthe photographic notoriety. Slowly it was borne in upon her open mindthat she had not been singled out for reprehension; that she was simplya part of the news, as Hal regarded news--no, as the "Clarion" regardednews. That Hal would deliberately have let this happen, she declined tobelieve. Unconsciously she clung to her belief in the naturalinviolability of her privilege. It must have been a mistake. Hal wouldtell her so when he saw her. Yet if that were so, why had he sent word, the day after, that he couldn't keep his appointment? Would he come atall, now?

Doubt upon this point was ended when Dr. Elliot, admitted on thestrength of his profession to the typhus ward, and still exhibitingmottlings of wrath on his square face, had repeated his somewhatcensored account of his encounter with "that puppy. " Esmé haughtilyadvised her dear Uncle Guardy that the "puppy" was her friend. UncleGuardy acidulously counseled his beloved Esmé not to be every species ofa mildly qualified idiot at one and the same time. Esmé elevated hernose in the air and marched out of the room to telephone Hal Surtaineforthwith. What she intended to telephone him (very distantly, ofcourse) was that her uncle had no authority to speak for her, that shewas quite capable of speaking for herself, and that she was ready tohear any explanation tending to mitigate his crime--not in those wordsprecisely, but in a tone perfectly indicative of her meaning. Furthermore, that the matter on which she had wished to speak to him wasa business matter, and that she would expect him to keep the brokenappointment later. None of which was ever transmitted. Fate, playing therôle of Miching Mallecho, prevented once again. Hal was out. 

In the course of time, Esmé's quarantine (a little accelerated, thoughnot at any risk of public safety) was lifted and she returned to theworld. The battle of hygiene _vs_. Infection was now at its height. Esméthrew herself into the work, heart and soul. For weeks she did not seteyes on Hal Surtaine, except as they might pass on the street. Twice shenarrowly missed him at the hospital where she found time to make anoccasional visit to Ellis. A quick and lively friendship had sprung upbetween the spoiled beauty and the old soldier of the print-columns, andfrom him, as soon as he was convalescent, she learned something of thedeeper meanings of the "Clarion" fight and of the higher standards whichhad cost its owner so dear. 

"I suppose, " he said, "the hardest thing he ever had to do in his lifewas to print your picture. "

"Did he _have_ to print it?"

"Didn't he? It was news. "

"And that's your god, isn't it, Mr. Mac?" said his visitor, smiling. 

"It's only a small name for Truth. Good men have died for that. "

"Or killed others for their ideal of it. "

"Miss Esmé, " said the invalid, "Hal Surtaine has had to face two tests. He had to show up his own father in his paper. "

"Yes. I read it. But I've only begun to understand it since our talks. "

"And he had to print that about you. Wayne told me he almost killed thestory himself to save Hal. 'I couldn't bear to look at the boy's facewhen he told me to run it, ' Wayne said. And he's no sentimentalist. Newspapermen generally ain't. "

"_Aren't_ you?" said Esmé, with a catch in her breath. "I should thinkyou were, pretty much, at the 'Clarion' office. "

From that day she knew that she must talk it out with Hal. Yet at everythought of that encounter, her maidenhood shrank, affrighted, with asweet and tremulous fear. Inevitable as was the end, it might have beenlong postponed had it not been for a word that Ellis let drop the daywhen he left the hospital. Mrs. Festus Willard, out of friendship forHal, had insisted that the convalescent should come to her house untilhis strength was quite returned, instead of returning to his small andstuffy hotel quarters, and Esmé had come in her car to transfer him. Itwas the day after the Talk-It-Over Breakfast at which Hal had announcedthe prospective fall of the "Clarion. "

"I'll be glad to get back to the office, " said Ellis to Esmé. "Theycertainly need me. "

"You aren't fit yet, " protested the girl. 

"Fitter than the Boss. He's worrying himself sick. "

"Isn't everything all right?"

"All wrong! It's this cussed Pierce libel case that's taking the heartout of him. "

"Oh!" cried Esmé, on a note of utter dismay. "Why didn't you tell me, Mr. Mac?"

"Tell you? What do you know about it?"

"Lots! Everything. " She fell into silent thoughtfulness. "I supposedthat you had heard from Mr. Pierce, or his lawyer, at the office. I_must_ see Hal--Mr. Surtaine--now. Does he still come to see you?"

"Everyday. "

"Send word to him to be at the Willards' at two to-morrow. And--and, please, Mr. Mac, don't tell him why. "

"Now, what kind of a little game is this?" began Ellis, teasingly. "Am Ian amateur Cupid, or what's my cue?" He looked into the girl's face andsaw tears in the great brown eyes. "Hello!" he said with a change ofvoice. "What's wrong, Esmé? I'm sorry. "

"Oh, _I'm_ wrong!" she cried. "I ought to have spoken long ago. No, no!I'm all right now!" She smiled gloriously through her tears. "Here weare. You'll be sure that he's there?"

 "Fear not, but lean on Dollinger And he will fetch you through"--

quoted the other in oratorical assurance, and turned to Mrs. Willard'sgreeting. 

At one-thirty on the following day, Mr. McGuire Ellis was where heshouldn't have been, asleep in a curtained alcove window-seat of the bigWillard library. At one minute past two he was where he should have beenstill less; that is, in the same place and condition. Now Mr. Ellis isnot only the readiest hair-trigger sleeper known to history, but he isalso one of the most profound and persistent. Entrances and exitsdisturb him not, nor does the human voice penetrate to the region ofhis dreams. To everything short of earthquake, explosion, or physicalcontact, his slumber is immune. Therefore he took no note when Miss EsméElliot came in, nor when, a moment later, Mr. Harrington Surtainearrived, unannounced. Nor, since he was thoroughly shut in by thedraperies, was either of them aware of his presence. 

Esmé rose slowly to her feet as Hal entered. She had planned aleading-up to her subject, but at sight of him she was startled out ofany greeting, even. 

"Oh, how thin you look, and tired!" she exclaimed. 

"Strenuous days, these, " he answered. "I didn't expect to see you here. Where's Ellis?"

"Upstairs. Don't go. I want to speak to you. Sit down there. "

At her direction Hal drew up a chair. She took the corner of the loungenear by and regarded him silently from under puckered brows. 

"Is it about Ellis?" said Hal, alarmed at her hesitation. 

"No. It is about Mr. Pierce. There won't be any libel suit. "

"What!"

"No. " She shook her head in reassurance of his evident incredulity. "You've nothing to worry about, there. "

"How can you know?"

"From Kathie. "

"Did her father tell her?"

"She told her father. There's a dreadful quarrel. "

"I don't understand at all. "

"Kathie absolutely refuses to testify for her father. She says that theaccident was her own fault, and if there's a trial she will tell thetruth. "

Before she had finished, Hal was on his feet. Her heart smote her as shesaw the gray worry pass from his face and his shoulders square as fromthe relief of a burden lifted, "Has it lain so heavy on your mind?" sheasked pitifully. 

"If you knew!" He walked half the length of the long room, then turnedabruptly. "You did that, " he said. "You persuaded her. "

"No. I didn't, indeed. "

The eager light faded in his face. "Of course not. Why should youafter--Do you mind telling me how it happened?"

"It isn't my secret. But--but she has come to care very much for someone, and it is his influence. "

"Wonderful!" He laughed boyishly. "I want to go out and run around andhowl. Would you mind joining me in the college yell? Does Mac know?"

"Nobody knows but you. "

"That's why Pierce kept postponing. And I, living under the shadow ofthis! How can I thank you!"

"Don't thank me, " she said with an effort. "I--I've known it for weeks. I meant to tell you long ago, but I thought you'd have learned it beforenow--and--and it was made hard for me. "

"Was that what you had to tell me about the paper, when you asked me tocome to see you?"

She nodded. 

"But how could I come?" he burst out. "I suppose there's no use--I mustgo and tell Mac about this. "

"Wait, " she said. 

He stopped, gazing at her doubtfully. 

"I'm tearing down the tenement at Number 9. "

"Tearing it down?"

"As a confession that--that you were right. But I didn't know I ownedit. Truly I didn't. You'll believe that, won't you?"

"Of course, " he cried eagerly. "I did know it, but too late. "

"If you'd known in time would you have--"

"Left that out of the paper?" he finished, all the life gone from hisvoice. "No, Esmé. I couldn't have done that. But I could have said inthe paper that you didn't know. "

"I thought so, " she said very quietly. 

He misinterpreted this. "I can't lie to you, Esmé, " he said with a sadsincerity. "I've lived with lies too long. I can't do it, not for anyhope of happiness. Do I seem false and disloyal to you? Sometimes I doto myself. I can't help it. All a man can do is to follow his own light. Or a woman either, I suppose. And your light and mine are worlds apart. "

Again, with a stab of memory, he saw that desperate smile on her lips. Then she spoke with the clear courage of her new-found womanliness. 

"There is no light for me where you are not. "

He took a swift step toward her. And at the call, sweetly andstraightly, she came to meet his arms and lips. 

"Poor boy!" she said, a few minutes later, pushing a lock of hair fromhis forehead. "I've let you carry that burden when a word from me wouldhave lifted it. "

"Has there ever been such a thing as unhappiness in the world, sweetheart?" he said. "I can't remember it. So I don't believe it. "

"I'm afraid I've cost you more than I can ever repay you for, " she said. "Hal, tell me I've been a little beast!--Oh, no! That's no way to tellit. Aren't you sorry, sir, that you ever saw this room?"

"Finest example of interior architecture I know of. Exact replica of theplumb center of Paradise. "

"It's where all your troubles began. You first met me here in this veryroom. "

"Oh, no! My troubles began from the minute I set eyes on you, that dayat the station. "

"Don't contradict me. " She laid an admonitory finger on his lips, then, catching at his hand, gently drew him with her. "Right in that verywindow-seat there--" She whisked the hangings aside, and brushed McGuireEllis's nose in so doing. 

"Hoong!" snorted McGuire Ellis. 

"Oh!" cried Esmé. "Were you there all the time? We--I--didn't know--Haveyou been asleep?"

"I have been just that, " replied the dormant one, yawning. 

"I hope we haven't disturbed--" began Esmé in the same breath with Hal'sawkward "Sorry we waked you up, Mac. "

"Don't be--" Ellis checked his familiar growl, looked with growingsuspicion from Esmé's flushed loveliness to Hal's self consciousconfusion, leaped to his feet, gathered the pair into a sudden, violent, impartial embrace, and roared out:--

"Go ahead! _Be_ young! You can only be it once in a lifetime. "

XXXVIII

THE CONVERT

Old Home Week passed in a burst of glory and profit. True to itstroublous type, the "Clarion" had interfered with the profit, in twobrief, lively, and effective campaigns. It had published a roster ofhotels which, after agreeing not to raise rates for the week, hadreverted to the old, tried and true principle of "all the traffic canbear, " with comparative tables, thereby causing great distress of mindand pocket among the piratical. Backed by the Consumers' League, it hadagain taken up the cudgels for the store employees, demanding that theyreceive pay for overtime during the celebration and winning a partialvictory. No little rancor was, of course, stirred up among theadvertisers. The usual threats were made. But the business interests ofWorthington had begun to learn that threatening the "Clarion" was afutile procedure, while advertisers were coming to a realization of thefact that they couldn't afford to stay out of so strong a medium, evenat increased rates. 

The raise in the advertising schedule had been partly Esmé Elliot'sdoing. As a condition of her engagement to Hal, she demanded aresumption of the old partnership. Entered into lightly, it soon becameof serious moment, for the girl had a natural gift for affairs. When shelearned that on the basis of circulation the "Clarion" would bejustified in increasing its advertising card by forty per cent, butdared not do so because of the narrow margin upon which it was working, she insisted upon the measure, supporting her argument with aconsiderable sum of money of her own. Hal revolted at this, but shepleaded so sweetly that he finally consented to regard it as a reservefund. It was never called for. The turn of the tide had come for thepaper. It lost few old advertisers and put on new ones. It was asuccess. 

No one was more delighted than Dr. Surtaine. Forgetting his ownprophecies of disaster he exalted Hal to the skies as a chip of the oldblock, an inheritor of his own genius for business. 

"Knew all along he had the stuff in him, " he would declare buoyantly. "Look at the 'Clarion' now! Most independent, you-be-damned sheet in thecountry. And what about the chaps that were going to put it out ofbusiness? Eating out of its hand!"

Of Esmé the old quack was quite as proud as of Hal. To him she embodiedand typified, in its extreme form, those things which all his moneycould not buy. That she disliked the Certina business and made no secretof the fact did not in the least interfere with a genuine liking betweenherself and its proprietor. Dr. Surtaine could not discuss Certina withHal: there were too many wounds still open between them. But with Esméhe could, and often did. Her attitude struck him as nicely philosophicand impersonal, if a bit disdainful. And in these days he had to talk tosome one, for he was swollen with a great and glorious purpose. 

He announced it one resplendent fall day, having gone out to Greenvalewith that particular object in view, at an hour when he was sure thatHal would be at the office. 

"Esmé, I'm going to make you a wedding present of Certina, " he said. 

"Never take it, Doctor, " she replied, smiling up at him in friendlyrecognition of what had come to be a subject of stock joke between them. 

"I'm serious. I'm going to make you a wedding present of the Certinabusiness. I guess there aren't many brides get a gift of half a milliona year. Too bad I can't give it out to the newspapers, but it wouldn'tdo. "

"What on earth do you mean?" cried the astonished girl. "I couldn't takeit. Hal wouldn't let me. "

"I'm going to give it up, for you. You think it ain't genteel andhigh-toned, don't you?"

"I think it isn't honest. "

"Not discussing business principles, to-day, " retorted the Doctorgood-humoredly. "It's a question of taste now. You're ashamed of theproprietary medicine game, aren't you, my dear?"

Esmé laughed. Embarrassment with Dr. Surtaine was impossible. He was toochildlike. "A little, " she confessed. 

"You'd be glad if I quit it. "

"Of course I would. I suppose you can afford it. "

As if responding to the touch of a concealed spring, the Surtaine chestprotruded. "You find me something I can't afford, and I'll buy it!" hedeclared. "But this won't even cost me anything in the long run. Esmé, did I ever tell you my creed?"

"'Certina Cures, '" suggested the girl mischievously. 

"That's for business. I mean for everyday life. My creed is to letProvidence take care of folks in general while I look after me andmine. "

"It's practical, at least, if not altruistic. "

"Me, and mine, " repeated the charlatan. "Do you get that 'and mine'?That means the employees of the Certina factory. Now, if I quit makingCertina, what about them? Shall I turn them out on the street?"

"I hadn't thought of that, " admitted the girl blankly. 

"Business can be altruistic as well as practical, you see, " he observed. "Well, I've worked out a scheme to take care of that. Been working on itfor months. Certina is going to die painlessly. And I'm going to preachits funeral oration at the factory on Monday. Will you come, and makeHal come, too?"

In vain did Esmé employ her most winning arts of persuasion to get morefrom the wily charlatan. He enjoyed being teased, but he was obdurate. Accordingly she promised for herself and Hal. 

But Hal was not as easily persuaded. He shrank from the thought of everagain setting foot in the Certina premises. Only Esmé's most artfulpleading that he should not so sorely disappoint his father finally wonhim over. 

At the Certina "shop, " on the appointed day, the fiancés were ushered inwith unaccustomed formality. They found gathered in the magnificentexecutive offices all the heads of departments of the vast concern, aquiet, expectant crowd. There were no outsiders other than Hal and Esmé. Dr. Surtaine, glossy, grave, a figure to fill the eye roundly, sat athis glass-topped table facing his audience. Above him hung Old Lame-Boy, eternally hobbling amidst his fervid implications. 

Waving the newcomers to seats directly in front of him, the presidinggenius lifted a benign hand for silence. 

"My friends, " he said, in his unctuous, rolling voice, "I have animportant announcement to make. The Certina business is finished. "

There was a silence of stunned surprise as the speaker paused to enjoyhis effect. 

"Certina, " he pursued, "has been the great triumph of my career. I mightalmost say it has been my career. But it has not been my life, myfriends. The whole is greater than the part: the creator is greater thanthe thing he creates. They say, 'Surtaine of Certina. ' It should be, 'Certina of Surtaine. ' There's more to come of Surtaine. "

His voice dropped to the old, pleading, confidential tone of theitinerant; as if he were beguiling them now to accept the philosophywhich he was to set forth. 

"What is life, my dear friends? Life is a paper-chase. We rush from onething to another, Little Daisy Happiness just one jump ahead of us andOld Man Death grabbing at our coat-tails. Well, before he catches holdof mine, "--the splendid bulk and vitality of the man gave refutation tothe hint of pathos in the voice, --"I want to run my race out so that mychildren and my children's children can point to me and say, 'Onecrowded hour of glorious life is worth a cycle of Cathay. '"

With a superb gesture he indicated Hal and Esmé, who, he observed withgratification, seemed quite overcome with emotion. 

"That is why, my friends, I am withdrawing certina, and turning to freshfields; if I may say so, fields of more genteel endeavor. Certina hasmade millions. It could still make millions. I could sell out formillions to-day. But, in the words of the sweet singer, I come to buryit, not to praise it. Certina has done its grand work. The day ofmedicine is almost over. Interfering laws are being passed. The publicis getting suspicious of drugs. Whether this is just or unjust is notthe question which I am considering. I've always wanted my business tobe high-class. You can't run a high-class business when the public is onto you. 

"Don't think, any of you, that I'm going to retire and leave you in thelurch. No. I'm looking ahead, for you as well as for me. What's thenewest thing in science? Foods! Specific foods, to build up the system. That's the big thing of the future here in America. We're a tirednation, a nerve-wracked nation, a brain-fagged nation. Suppose a mancould say to the public, 'Get as tired as you like. Work to your limit. Play to your limit. Go the pace. When you're worn out, come to us andwe'll repair the waste for a few dollars. We've got a food--no drugs, nomedicines--that builds up brain and nerve as good as new. The greatestauthorities in the world agree on it. ' Is there any limit to thebusiness that food could do?

"Well, I've got it! And I've got the backing for it. Mr. Belford Couchwill tell you of our testimonials. Tell 'em the whole thing, Bel: we'reall one family here. "

"I've been huntin' in Europe, " said Certina Charley, rising, in accentsof pardonable pride: "and I've got the hottest bunch of signed stuffever. You all know how hard it is to get any medical testimonials here. They're all afraid, except a few down-and-outers. Well, there's none ofthat in Europe. They'll stand for any kind of advertising, so long asit's published only in the United States--provided they get their price. And it ain't such an awful price either. _I got the Emperor's ownphysician for one thousand five hundred dollars cash_. And a line ofcourt doctors and swell university professors anywhere from one thousanddollars way down to one hundred. It's the biggest testimonial stunt everpulled. "

"And every mother's son of 'em, " put in Dr. Surtaine, "staking ahigh-toned scientific reputation that the one sure, unfailing, reliableupbuilder for brain-workers, nervous folks, tired-out, or broken-downfolks of any kind at all is"--here Dr. Surtaine paused, looked about hisentranced audience, and delivered himself of his climax in a voice ofthunder:

"CEREBREAD!"

The word passed from mouth to mouth, in accents of experimentation, admiration, and acceptance. 

"Cere, from cerebellum, the brain, and bread the universal food. I dopedit out myself, and as soon as I hit on it I shipped Belford Couchstraight to Europe to get the backing. I wouldn't take a million forthat name, to-day. 

"See what you can do with a proposition of that sort! It hasn't got anydrugs in it, so we won't have to label it under the law. It ain'tmedical; so the most particular newspaper and magazines won't kick onthe advertising. Yet, with the copy I'm getting up on it, we can put itover to cure more troubles than Certina ever thought of curing. Only wewon't use the word 'cure, ' of course. All we have to do is to ram itinto the public that all its troubles are nervous and brain troubles. 'Cerebread' restores the brain and rebuilds the nerves, and there youare, as good as new. Is that some plan? Or isn't it!"

There was a ripple of applausive comment. 

"What's in it?" inquired Lauder, the factory superintendent. 

"Millions in it, my boy, " cried the other jubilantly. "We'll bemanufacturing by New Year's. "

"That's the point. _What'll_ we be manufacturing?"

"By crikey! That reminds me. Haven't settled that yet. Might as well doit right now, " said the presiding genius of the place with Olympiandecision. "Dr. De Vito, what's the newest wrinkle in brain-food?"

"Brain-food?" hesitated the little physician. "Something new?"

"Yes, yes!" cried the charlatan impatiently. "What's the fad now? Itused to be phosphorus. "

"Ye-es. Phosphorus, maybe. Maybe some kind of hypophosphite, eh?"

"Sounds all right. Could you get up a preparation of it that looks tastyand tastes good?"

"Sure. Easy. "

"Fine! I'll send you down the advertising copy, so you'll have that togo by. And now, gentlemen, we're the Cerebread factory from now on. Keepall your help; we'll need 'em. Go on with Certina till we're sold out;but no more advertising on it. And, all of you, from now on, think, dream, and _live_ Cerebread. Meeting's adjourned. "

The staff filed out, chattering excitedly. "He'll put it over. "--"Youcan't beat the Chief. "--"Is'n't he a wonder!"--"Cerebread; it's a greatname to advertise. "--"No come-back to it, either. Nobody can kick on a_food_. "--"It's a sure-enough classy proposition, with those swellEuropean names to it!"--"Wish he'd let us in on the stock. "

Success was in the air. It centered in and beamed from the happy eyesof the reformed enthusiast, as, crossing over the room with handsextended to Esmé and Hal, he cried in a burst of generous emotion:

"It was you two that converted me. "

THE END