Explanations were now due to two people, Io and Willis Enderby. As to
Io, Banneker felt an inner conviction of strength. Hopeless though he
was of making his course appear in any other light than that of
surrender, nevertheless he could tell himself that it was really done
for her, to protect her name. But he could not tell her this. He knew
too well what the answer of that high and proud spirit of hers would be;
that if their anomalous relationship was hampering his freedom, dividing
his conscience, the only course of honor was for them to stop seeing
each other at no matter what cost of suffering; let Banneker resign, if
that were his rightful course, and tell The Searchlight to do its worst.
Yes; such would be Io's idea of playing the game. He could not force it.
He must argue with her, if at all, on the plea of expediency. And to her
forthright and uncompromising fearlessness, expediency was in itself the
poorest of expedients. At the last, there was her love for him to appeal
to. But would Io love where she could not trust?... He turned from that
thought.
As an alternative subject for consideration, Willis Enderby was hardly
more assuring and even more perplexing. True, Banneker owed no
explanation to him; but for his own satisfaction of mind he must have it
out with the lawyer. He had a profound admiration for Enderby and knew
that this was in a measure reciprocated by a patent and almost wistful
liking, curious in a person as reserved as Enderby. He cherished a vague
impression that somehow Enderby would understand. Or, at least, that he
would want to understand. Consequently he was not surprised when the
lawyer called him up and asked him to come that evening to the Enderby
house. He went at once to the point.
"Banneker, do you know anything of an advertisement by the striking
garment-workers, which The Patriot first accepted and afterward refused
to print?"
"Yes."
"Are you at liberty to tell me why?"
"In confidence."
"That is implied."
"Mr. Marrineal ordered it killed."
"Ah! It was Marrineal himself. The advocate of the Common People! The
friend of Labor!"
"Admirable campaign material," observed Banneker composedly, "if it were
possible to use it."
"Which, of course, it isn't; being confidential," Enderby capped the
thought. "I hear that Russell Edmonds has resigned."
"That is true."
"In consequence of the rejected advertisement?"
Banneker sat silent so long that his host began: "Perhaps I shouldn't
have asked that--"
"I'm going to tell you exactly what occurred," said Banneker quietly,
and outlined the episode of the editorial, suppressing, however,
Marrineal's covert threat as to Io and The Searchlight. "And _I_ haven't
resigned. So you see what manner of man I am," he concluded defiantly.
"You mean a coward? I don't think it."
"I wish I were sure!" burst out Banneker.
"Ah? That's hard, when the soul doesn't know itself. Is it money?" The
crisp, clear voice had softened to a great kindliness. "Are you in debt,
my boy?"
"No. Yes; I am. I'd forgotten. That doesn't matter."
"Apparently not." The lawyer's heavy brows went up, "More serious than
money," he commented.
Banneker recognized the light of suspicion, comprehension, confirmation
in the keen and fine visage turned upon him. Enderby continued:
"Well, there are matters that can be talked of and other matters that
can't be talked of. But if you ever feel that you want the advice of a
man who has seen human nature on a good many sides, and has learned not
to judge too harshly of it, come to me. The only counsel I ever give
gratis to those who can pay for it"--he smiled faintly--"is the kind
that may be too valuable to sell."
"But I'd like to know," said Banneker slowly, "why you don't think me a
yellow dog for not resigning."
"Because, in your heart you don't think yourself one. Speaking of that
interesting species, I suppose you know that your principal is working
for the governorship."
"Will he get the nomination?"
"Quite possibly. Unless I can beat him for it. I'll tell you privately I
may be the opposing candidate. Not that the party loves me any too much;
but I'm at least respectable, fairly strong up-State, and they'll take
what they have to in order to beat Marrineal, who is forcing himself
down their throats."
"A pleasant prospect for me," gloomed Banneker. "I'll have to fight
you."
"Go ahead and fight," returned the other heartily. "It won't be the
first time."
"At least, I want you to know that it'll be fair fight."
"No 'Junior-called-me-Bob' trick this time?" smiled Enderby.
Banneker flushed and winced. "No," he answered. "Next time I'll be sure
of my facts. Good-night and good luck. I hope you beat us."
As he turned the corner into Fifth Avenue a thought struck him. He made
the round of the block, came up the side of the street opposite, and met
a stroller having all the ear-marks of the private detective. To think
of a man of Judge Enderby's character being continuously "spotted" for
the mean design of an Ely Ives filled Banneker with a sick fury. His
first thought was to return and tell Enderby. But to what purpose? After
all, what possible harm could Ives's plotting and sneaking do to a man
of the lawyer's rectitude? Banneker returned to The House With Three
Eyes and his unceasing work.
The interview with Enderby had lightened his spirit. The older man's
candor, his tolerance, his clear charity of judgment, his sympathetic
comprehension were soothing and reassuring. But there was another
trouble yet to be faced. It was three days since the editorial appeared
and he had heard no word from Io. Each noon when he called on the
long-distance 'phone, she had been out, an unprecedented change from her
eager waiting to hear the daily voice on the wire. Should he write? No;
it was too difficult and dangerous for that. He must talk it out with
her, face to face, when the time came.
Meantime there was Russell Edmonds. He found the veteran cleaning out
his desk preparatory to departure.
"You can't know how it hurts to see you go, Pop," he said sadly. "What's
your next step?"
"The Sphere. They want me to do a special series, out around the
country."
"Aren't they pretty conservative for your ideas?"
Edmonds, ruminating over a pipe even smaller and more fragile than the
one sacrificed to his rage and disgust, the day of his resignation, gave
utterance to a profound truth:
"What's the difference whether a newspaper is radical or conservative,
Ban, if it tells the truth? That's the whole test and touchstone; to
give news honestly. The rest will take care of itself. Compared to us
The Sphere crowd are conservative. But they're honest. And they're not
afraid."
"Yes. They're honest, and not afraid--because they don't have to be,"
said Banneker, in a tone so somber that his friend said quickly:
"I didn't mean that for you, son."
"Well, if I've gone wrong, I've got my punishment before me," pursued
the other with increased gloom. "Having to work for Marrineal and
further his plans, after knowing him as I know him now--that's a refined
species of retribution, Pop."
"I know; I know. You've got to stick and wait your chance, and hold your
following until you can get your own newspaper. Then," said Russell
Edmonds with the glory of an inspired vision shining in his weary eyes,
"you can tell 'em all to go to hell. Oh, for a paper of our own kind
that's really independent; that don't care a hoot for anything except to
get the news and get it straight, and interpret it straight; that don't
have to be afraid of anything but not being honest!"
"Pop," said Banneker, spiritlessly, "what's the use? How do we know we
aren't chasing a rainbow? How do we know people _want_ an honest paper
or would know one if they saw it?"
"My God, son! Don't talk like that," implored the veteran. "That's the
one heresy for which men in our game are eternally damned--and deserve
it."
"All right. I know it. I don't mean it, Pop. I'm not adopting
Marrineal's creed. Not just yet."
"By the way, Marrineal was asking for you this morning."
"Was he? I'll look him up. Perhaps he's going to fire me. I wish he
would."
"Catch him!" grunted the other, reverting to his task. "More likely
going to raise your salary."
As between the two surmises, Edmonds's was the nearer the truth. Urbane
as always, the proprietor of The Patriot waved his editor to a seat,
remarking, "I hope you'll sit down this time," the slightly ironical
tinge to the final words being, in the course of the interview, his only
reference to their previous encounter. Wondering dully whether Marrineal
could have any idea of the murderous hatred which he inspired, Banneker
took the nearest chair and waited. After some discussion as to the
policy of the paper in respect to the strike, which was on the point of
settlement by compromise, Marrineal set his delicate fingers point to
point and said:
"I want to talk to you about the future."
"I'm listening," returned Banneker uncompromisingly.
"Your ultimate ambition is to own and control a newspaper of your own,
isn't it?"
"Why do you think that?"
Marrineal's slow, sparse smile hardly moved his lips. "It's in character
that you should. What else is there for you?"
"Well?"
"Have you ever thought of The Patriot?"
Involuntarily Banneker straightened in his chair. "Is The Patriot in the
market?"
"Hardly. That isn't what I have in mind."
"Will you kindly be more explicit?"
"Mr. Banneker, I intend to be the next governor of this State."
"I might quote a proverb on that point," returned the editor
unpleasantly.
"Yes; and I might cap your cup-and-lip proverb with another as to the
effect of money as a stimulus in a horse-race."
"I have no doubts as to your financial capacity."
"My organization is building up through the State. I've got the country
newspapers in a friendly, not to say expectant, mood. There's just one
man I'm afraid of."
"Judge Enderby?"
"Exactly."
"I should think he would be an admirable nominee."
"As an individual you are at liberty to hold such opinions as you
please. As editor of The Patriot--"
"I am to support The Patriot candidate and owner. Did you send for me to
tell me that, Mr. Marrineal? I'm not altogether an idiot, please
remember."
"You are a friend of Judge Enderby."
"If I am, that is a personal, not a political matter. No matter how much
I might prefer to see him the candidate of the party"--Banneker spoke
with cold deliberation--"I should not stultify myself or the paper by
supporting him against the paper's owner."
"That is satisfactory." Marrineal swallowed the affront without a gulp.
"To continue. If I am elected governor, nothing on earth can prevent my
being the presidential nominee two years later."
Equally appalled and amused by the enormous egotism of the man thus
suddenly revealed, Banneker studied him in silence.
"Nothing in the world," repeated the other. "I have the political game
figured out to an exact science. I know how to shape my policies, how to
get the money backing I need, how to handle the farmer and labor. It may
be news to you to know that I now control eight of the leading farm
journals of the country and half a dozen labor organs. However, this is
beside the question. My point with you is this. With my election as
governor, my chief interest in The Patriot ceases. The paper will have
set me on the road; I'll do the rest. Reserving only the right to
determine certain very broad policies, I purpose to turn over the
control of The Patriot to you."
"To me!" said Banneker, thunderstruck.
"Provided I am elected governor," said Marrineal. "Which depends
largely--yes, almost entirely--on the elimination of Judge Enderby."
"What are you asking me to do?" demanded Banneker, genuinely puzzled.
"Absolutely nothing. As my right-hand man on the paper, you are entitled
to know my plans, particularly as they affect you. I can add that when I
reach the White House"--this with sublime confidence--"the paper will be
for sale and you may have the option on it."
Banneker's brain seemed filled with flashes of light, as he returned to
his desk. He sat there, deep-slumped in his chair, thinking, planning,
suspecting, plumbing for the depths of Marrineal's design, and above all
filled with an elate ambition. Not that he believed for a moment in
Marrineal's absurd and megalomaniacal visions of the presidency. But the
governorship; that indeed was possible enough; and that would mean a
free hand for Banneker for the term. What might he not do with The
Patriot in that time!... An insistent and obtrusive disturbance to his
profound cogitation troubled him. What was it that seemed to be setting
forth a claim to divide his attention? Ah, the telephone. He thrust it
aside, but it would not be silenced. Well ... what.... The discreet
voice of his man said that a telegram had come for him. All right (with
impatience); read it over the wire. The message, thus delivered in
mechanical tones, struck from his mind the lesser considerations which a
moment before had glowed with such shifting and troublous glory.
D. died this morning. Will write. I.