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But why hadn't the paper said a word about the murder of strikers' wives and children out at the Veridian Lumber Company's mills in Oregon; an outrage far surpassing anything ever laid to the account of the Steel Trust? Simple reason, answered Banneker; there had been no news of it over the wires. No; of course there hadn't.

Perhaps he was at fault in his very first judgment; perhaps, had he even then, in his inexperience, seen what he now saw so clearly in the light of experience, the deadly pitfalls into which journalism, undertaken with any other purpose than the simple setting forth of truth, beguiles its practitioners perhaps he might have drawn back from the first step of passive deception and have resigned rather than been a party to the suppression of the facts about the Veridian killings.

"The principal owner of Veridian is named Marrineal.... Where you going, Ban?" "To see the principal owner of the name," said Banneker grimly. The quest took him to the big house on upper Fifth Avenue. Marrineal heard his editorial writer with impassive face. "So the story has got here," he remarked. "Yes. Do you own Veridian?" "No." Hope rose within Banneker. "You don't?" "My mother does.

"Answer as you please." "Then I will say," observed the other, speaking with marked deliberation, "that on one occasion I have failed to see matter which I thought might logically appear there and the absence of which afforded me food for thought. Do you know Peter McClintick?" "Yes. Has he been talking to you about the Veridian killings?" Enderby nodded.

His text was the Veridian strike, his information the version which McClintick furnished him; he cited Banneker by name, and challenged him as a prostituted mind and a corrupted pen. Banneker, believing that Laird was fully apprised, as he knew Enderby to be, was outraged.

"Why, I suppose I could, in an extreme emergency. But, dearest, it's all right. Why be so difficult?" "It isn't playing the game, Ban." "Indeed, it is. It's playing the game as Laird has elected to play it. Did he make inquiries before he attacked us on the Veridian strike?" "That's true," she conceded. "And my evidence for this is direct. You'll have to trust me and my professional judgment, Io."

Then how, asked Banneker, could it be expected ? McClintick interrupted in his voice of controlled passion; had Mr. Well, The Transcript which, he, McClintick, hated strongly as an organ of money nevertheless did honestly gather and publish news, as he was constrained huskily to admit. It had the Veridian story; was still running it from time to time. Therefore, if Mr.

That's to spike McClintick's guns if he tries to trot out Veridian again as proof that Marrineal is, at heart, anti-labor." "Is he?" "He's anti-anything that's anti-Marrineal, and pro-anything that's pro-Marrineal. Haven't you measured him yet? All policy, no principle; there's Mr. Tertius Marrineal for you.... Ban, it's really you that holds me to this shop."

Banneker stated the case of the Veridian Mills strike simply and fairly. "Could I turn the columns of his own paper on Marrineal for what was not even his fault?" "Impossible. Absurd, as well," acknowledged the other "Can you even criticize Marrineal?"

I'd resign to-morrow if it weren't for the fact that Marrineal still wants to cocker up the labor crowd for his political purposes, and so gives me a free hand in my own special line. By the way, he's got the Veridian matter all nicely smoothed out. Oh, my, yes! Fired the general manager, put in all sorts of reforms, recognized the union, the whole programme!