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But it was not intoxication that sweated on his forehead and quivered in his jaw. It was terror. He slumped into the waiting chair and mouthed mutely at the editor. "Well?" The bullet-like snap of the interrogation stung the man into babbling speech. "'S like this, Misser Wald'mar. 'S like this. Y-y-yuh see, 's like this. Fer Gawsake, kill out an ad for me!" "What? In to-morrow's paper? Nonsense!
"Bribery, eh?" he inquired softly. The man flinched from the tone. "It ain't bribery, is it, to ast you to rout out jus' one line from an ad an' pay you for the trouble. My own ad, too. If it runs, it's my finish. I was nutty when I wrote it. Fer Gawsake, Misser " "Stop it! You say Morrison sent you here?" "No, sir. Not exac'ly. 'S like this, M' Wald'mar. I hadda get to you some way.
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