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It was not in Banneker's placid face, nor in the unaltered tone wherein the pertinent query was couched. Nevertheless, the object of that query became aware that young Banneker was not a person to be trifled with. He now went on, equably to say: "Because, if you do, it might be as well to give me the chance of developing it."
Besides, if he's wrong, I believe he'd take it back." "After all the damage has been done. He won't get the chance." Banneker's jaw set firm. "What shall you do now?" "Wait my chance, load my pen, and shoot to kill." "Let me see the editorial before you print it." "All right, Miss Meddlesome. But you won't let your ideas of fair play run away with you and betray me to the enemy?
"I handled no such case that I recall. Now, as to your own helpfulness, I wish to make clear that I appreciate it." Mr. Vanney launched into a flowery tribute of the after-dinner variety, leaning forward to rest a hand upon Banneker's desk as he spoke. When the speech was over and the hand withdrawn, something remained among the strewn papers. Banneker regarded it with interest.
You can't prevent my going there, you know." "Can't I?" Banneker's voice had grown low and cold. A curious light shone in his eyes. There was an ugly flicker of smile on his set mouth. The reporter rose from the chair into which he had wetly slumped. He walked over to face his opponent who was standing at his desk.
Several promising enterprises directed at the City Treasury had aborted under destructive pressure from his pen. A once impregnably cohesive ring of Albany legislators had disintegrated with such violence of mutual recrimination that prosecution loomed imminent, because of a two weeks' "vacation" of Banneker's at the State Capitol.
"No." "Ban, aren't you ever going to get over it?" He looked at her silently. "No; you won't. There are a few of us like that. God help us!" said Camilla Van Arsdale. Others than Banneker's friends and frequenters now evinced symptoms of interest in his influence upon his environment. Approve him you might, or disapprove him; the palpable fact remained that he wielded a growing power.
But you being a newspaper man and the stuff being so snappy, I'm willing to make an exception. Besides, you're a friend of Raleigh's, ain't you? Well 'nuff said!" It was upon the tip of Banneker's tongue to demand the copy back. Then he bethought himself of Betty's disappointment. The thing was well done.
Marrineal raised his eyes slowly to Banneker's stern face. "Have you?" he said coolly. "Now, as to the mayoralty campaign; what do you think of running a page feature of Laird's reforms, as President of the Board, tracing each one down to its effect and showing what any backward step would mean? By the way, Laird is going to be pretty heavily obligated to The Patriot if he's elected."
Banneker's oldest friend turned her limpid and anxious regard upon his closest friend. "A power. Oh, it's real enough, all this empire of words that crumbles daily. It leaves something behind, a little residue of thought, ideals, convictions. What do you fear for him?" "Cynicism," she breathed uneasily. "It's the curse of the game. But it doesn't get the worker who feels his work striking home."
He had established the new policy; Severance had done no more than inform it with the heated imaginings and provocative pictorial quality inherent in a mind intensely if scornfully apprehensive of the unsatiated potential depravities of public taste. It was Banneker's hand that had set the strings vibrating to a new tune; Severance had only raised the pitch, to the nth degree of sensationalism.
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