United States or Ecuador ? Vote for the TOP Country of the Week !
The gist of it is that the Delavan Eyres have separated and a divorce is impending. You know, of course, who the Eyres are." "I've met Eyre." "That so? Ever met his wife?" "No," replied Banneker, in good faith. "No; you wouldn't have, probably. They travel different paths. Besides, she's been practically living abroad. She's a stunner. It's big society stuff, of course.
He intoned slowly and effectively: "Ah, who shall dare to search in what sad maze Thenceforth their incommunicable ways Follow the desultory feet of Death?" Banneker took the book from him. Upon the sonnet a crushed bloom of the sage had left its spiced and fragrant stain. How came it there? Through but one possible agency of which Banneker could think. Io Welland!
"I do, as it happens. But I fail to see how Christian Banneker's son and élève could. Yet you write editorials for The Ledger." "Not on those topics." "Have you never had your editorials altered or cut or amended, in such manner as to give a side-slant toward the paper's editorial fetiches?" Again and most uncomfortably Banneker felt his color change. "Yes; I have," he admitted.
Other journalistic matters were pressing, however; he concluded that the "Manzanita Mystery," as he built it up headline-wise in his ready mind, could wait a day or two longer. Banneker, through the mechanical course of his office, debated the situation. Should he tell Io of the message?
"I'll have to fight you." "Go ahead and fight," returned the other heartily. "It won't be the first time." "At least, I want you to know that it'll be fair fight." "No 'Junior-called-me-Bob' trick this time?" smiled Enderby. Banneker flushed and winced. "No," he answered. "Next time I'll be sure of my facts. Good-night and good luck. I hope you beat us."
If I didn't, I wouldn't want to play at all!... Oh, my telegram! I must wire my aunt in New York. I'll tell her that I've stopped off to visit friends, if you don't object to that description as being too compromising," she added mischievously. She accepted a pad which he handed her and sat at the table, pondering. "Mr. Banneker," she said after a moment. "Well?"
In a way. I went to jail." "Jail? You?" Banneker had a flash of intuition. "I'll bet it was for something you were proud of." "I wasn't ashamed of the jail sentence, at any rate. Youngster, I'm going to tell you about this." Edmonds's fine eyes seemed to have receded into their hollows as he sat thinking with his pipe neglected on the table. "D'you know who Marna Corcoran was?"
"Now we can see our way," said Banneker, the practical. He studied the few rods of sleek, foamless water between him and the farther bank, and, going to the steel boat which Mindle had brought to the place on the hand car, took brief inventory of its small cargo. Satisfied, he turned to load in Io's few belongings. He shipped the oars.
"Why not to its reading public?" suggested Banneker. "That's an idea. But can you tie to a public? Isn't the public itself adrift, like seaweed?" "Blown about by the gales of politics." Edmonds accepted the figure. "Well, the newspaper ought to be the gale." "I gather that you gentlemen do not think highly of present journalistic conditions." "You overheard our discussion," said Banneker bluntly.
She was deadly pale with a surmise too monstrous for utterance. He put it into words for her. "Io, did you tell Errol Banneker that you were sending for me?" "Yes." Even in the midst of the ruin which he saw closing in upon his career that career upon which Camilla Van Arsdale had newly built her last pride and hope and happiness he could feel for the agony of the girl before him.
Word Of The Day