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"There, there, Susan," interposed Keith, with quickly uplifted hand. "We'll not discuss it, please, Yes, I know, I began the subject myself, and it was my fault; but when I heard you say John McGuire would be glad when he found out how we'd lied to his poor blind eyes, I I just couldn't hold it in. I had to say something.
But McGuire Ellis went red. "It's easy enough for you to sit there and be righteous," he said. "But get this straight. If the young Boss plays straight and tells 'em all to go to hell, it'll be a close call of life or death for the paper." "And if he doesn't?" "Easy going. Advertising'll roll in on us. Money'll come so fast we can't dodge it.
"Then you won't understand when I tell you that I'm one and that I'd see your 'Clarion' blazing in hell before I'd take another cent of your money." The fire died from her face, and in her former tone of dulled stolidity she repeated, "I want to see Mr. Surtaine." With every word uttered, McGuire Ellis's forebodings had grown darker.
You made it perhaps better than you know. But well, it isn't so pleasant always to be the hook, you know," he finished bitterly. "The hook?" frowned Susan. Keith laughed again grimly. "Perhaps you've forgotten but I haven't. I heard you talking to Mrs. McGuire one day. You said that everybody was either a hook or an eye, and that more than half the folks were hooks hanging on to somebody else.
"Where are you going, Cleave?" "To see about the colonel. They've just brought him to the farmhouse yonder. Dr. McGuire says he will get well dear old Brooke!" He went, striding over the furrowed field past groups of men sleeping and moaning as they slept. The stars were very bright in the clear, cold, windy night.
McGuire, "how many yards of bandaging I had, and when I replied that I did not know the exact number, but that I had enough for another fight, he seemed a little worried at my lack of information and showed his annoyance. I repeated rather shortly, "I have enough for another battle," meaning to imply that this was all that it was necessary for him to know.
"And the Fi'th Av'noo, and the Waldorf-Astoria," mimicked McGuire. "Told you I went broke. I'm on de bum proper. I've got one dime left. Maybe a trip to Europe or a sail in me private yacht would fix me up pa-per!" He flung his dime at a newsboy, got his Express, propped his back against the truck, and was at once rapt in the account of his Waterloo, as expanded by the ingenious press.
But suppose again this innocent criminal happened to have an unshakable alibi? That could be arranged for too. The alibi could be made to look 'fishy', as my friend Hale would put it. "Former Police Commissioner McGuire knew that 'Chicago' Boyle, alias 'Lefty' Harris was in this neighborhood. 'Lefty' had been convicted of entering a house with rope, climbing irons, and so forth.
An' I say I wish some of the patriotic people who are jest showerin' every Charlie Turner with attentions would please sprinkle jest a few on Charlie's wife, to help keep her straight an' sweet an' honest for Charlie when he comes back." "Hm-m, maybe," murmured Mrs. McGuire, rising wearily to her feet; "but there ain't many that thinks of that."
The younger man, frowning now, replied: "We don't want to see any more of your junk. The clothes on the models suit us all right. Slip 'em off, McGuire." "But " began McGuire and then stopped. His first suspicion returned with redoubled force; above all, that head of dark red hair made him thoughtful. He finished hoarsely: "What the hell's this?"
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