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Marrineal, taking those editorials from the speech of the ordinary folk who talk about their troubles and their pleasures." "I see. Straight from the throbbing heart of the people. Jones-in-the-street-car." "And Mrs. Jones. Don't forget her. She'll read 'em." "If she doesn't, it won't be because they don't bid for her interest.
Banneker's strongly pro-labor editorials they read with the mental commentary that probably The Patriot had to do that kind of thing to hold its circulation; but it could be depended upon to be "right" when the pinch came. Marrineal would see to that. Since the episode of the killed proof, Marrineal had pursued a hands-off policy with regard to the editorial page.
Marrineal murmured smilingly something indefinite but complimentary as to Banneker's reputation on Park Row; but this was by no means a fair index to what he knew about Banneker. Indeed, that prematurely successful reporter would have been surprised at the extent to which Marrineal's private investigations had gone.
Marrineal went into it carefully, turning from the front page to the inside, and again farther in the interior, without comment. Nor did he speak at once when he came to the editorial page. But he glanced up at Banneker before settling down to read. "Very interesting," he said presently, in a non-committal manner. "Have you more?"
Worst of all, he had Banneker. Was Banneker himself convinced? It was a question which he resolutely refused to follow to its logical conclusion. Of the justice of the creed which The Patriot upheld, he was perfectly confident. But did Marrineal represent that creed? Did he represent anything but Marrineal? Stifling his misgivings, Banneker flung himself the more determinedly into the fight.
"You don't like the editorials," was the inference which Marrineal drew from this, and correctly. "I think they're solemn flapdoodle." "So do I. Occasionally I write them myself and send them in quietly. It isn't known yet that I own the property; so I don't appear at the office. Mine are quite as solemn and flapdoodlish as the others. To which quality do you object the most?" "Solemnity.
The first of the Manufacturers' Association arguments to the public was conspicuously displayed. Of the strikers' reply not a syllable. Banneker went to Haring's office; found the business manager gloomy, but resigned. "Mr. Marrineal turned it down. He's got the right. That's all there is to it," was his version. "Not quite," remarked Banneker, and went home to prove it.
"Do you think you really want to know?" asked the other with a touch of grimness. "It won't be pleasant hearing." "I've got to know. Everything!" "Very well. Here's the situation. Banneker points his gun, The Patriot, at Bussey. 'Be good or I'll shoot, he says. Marrineal learns of it, never mind how. He points his gun at Ban. 'Be good, or I'll shoot, says he. And there you are!"
But Eyre "belonged" of right. As sufficient indication of Marrineal's status, by the way, it may be pointed out that, while he knew Eyre quite well, it was highly improbable that he would ever know Mrs. Eyre, or, if he did fortuitously come to know her, that he would be able to improve upon the acquaintance. All this Marrineal himself well understood.
Io whose silence was surrounding him with a cold terror.... He had to get home and dress for that cursed dinner! Marrineal had done the thing quite royally. The room was superb with flowers; the menu the best devisable; the wines not wide of range, but choice of vintage. The music was by professionals of the first grade, willing to give their favors to these powerful men of the press.
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