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Updated: June 10, 2025
Can you be honest on one page and a crook on another? Can you bang the big drum of righteousness in one column and promise falsely in the next to commit murder? Ellis, why does the 'Clarion' carry such stuff as that?" "Do you really want to know?" "Well, you're asking me to help your sheet," the ex-surgeon reminded him. "Because Dr. L. André Surtaine is the Neverfail Company."
Worthington estimated his fortune at fifteen millions, growing at the rate of a million yearly, and was not preposterously far afield. It was all that Dr. Surtaine needed. He enjoyed his high satisfaction as a hard-earned increment. Something more than satisfaction beamed from his face this blustery March noon as he awaited the Worthington train at a small station an hour up the line.
We'll take it right now if you're ready." "Quite ready, sir." "Hal, where's Europe?" "Europe? In the usual place on the map, I suppose." "You didn't bring it back with you, then?" "Not a great deal of it. They mightn't have let it through the customs." Dr. Surtaine snapped a rubber band from a packet of papers lying on his desk.
He could not know that his father saw in the suppression of the suicide news, only a natural and successful effort on the part of Hal to conceal his own guilt in Milly's death. No more could Dr. Surtaine comprehend that it was the dreadful responsibility of the Surtaine quackery for which Hal had unhesitantly sacrificed the declared principle of the "Clarion."
"They'll throw the tableware at you," said McGuire Ellis quietly: "at least they ought to, if they don't." The two Surtaines stared at him in surprise. "Who are you," continued the journalist, "to talk standards of honesty in journalism to those boys?" "He's their boss: that's all he is," said Dr. Surtaine weightily.
But through the representative citizenship of Worthington, in that place gathered, passed a quiver of sound, indeterminate, obscure, yet having all the passion of a quelled sob. Eyes furtively sought the face of Dr. Surtaine. But the master-quack remained frozen by the same bewilderment as his fellows. Perhaps alone in that crowd, Elias M. Pierce remained untouched emotionally.
Miss Elliot watched the process with interest. "Jinny," she announced presently, "I want that to play with." The stranger turned a little, so that his full face was shown. "It's Hal Surtaine!" exclaimed Mrs. Willard. "I don't care who it is. It looks nice. Please, mayn't I have it to play with?" "Will you promise not to break it? It used to be a particular pet of mine." "When?" "Oh, years ago.
But he was there to act; not to judge or comment. He consulted his watch. "Eleven forty-five," he said. "Better give out the story to-night." "Why not wait till to-morrow?" asked Dr. Surtaine. "The longer you wait, the more it will look like suppressing it." "But we want to suppress it." "Certainly," agreed Ellis. "I'm telling you the best way.
That night Harrington Surtaine went to bed pondering on the strange attitude of the newspaper mind toward so matter-of-fact a quality as honesty; and he dreamed of a roomful of advertisers listening in sodden silence to his own grandiloquent announcement, "Gentlemen: honesty is the best policy," while, in a corner, McGuire Ellis and Max Veltman clasped each other in an apoplectic agony of laughter.
Hale. Take a chair." The visitor bowed gravely and sat down. "You've come to see me about ?" "Your subscription to the East End Church Club Fund." "I am heartily in sympathy with the splendid work your church is doing in the er less salubrious parts of our city," said Dr. Surtaine. "Doubtless," returned the young clergyman dryly. "Seems to be saving his wind," thought Dr.
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