vidends. The Times as it stands to-day is a good, legitimate
business investment. Do you want the circulation to drop ten thousand
and the big advertisers to cancel their contracts?"

"What's the matter with the story? Isn't it all right?"

"Frankly, it isn't."

"It's true," said McQuade, his fist thudding on the desk; "it's true,
I tell you, every damned word of it."

"The truth of it isn't the question. It's the advisability of
publishing it. I say to you that if you insist on this story's
publication, you'll kill the Times deader than a door-nail. I'll call
the business manager in." Walford whistled through a tube, and shortly
after the business manager appeared. "Read this," said Walford
briefly, "and give Mr. McQuade your honest opinion regarding its
publication. Mr. McQuade thinks it ought to run as local news."

The business manager read it.

"It makes good reading, Mr. McQuade, but if you want to kill the
Times, run it. There are some stories that can only be rumored, not
printed, and this is one of them. If this appears, you have my word
that every decent advertiser will cancel his contract forthwith."

Walford looked at his employer in frank triumph. McQuade had great
confidence in these two men. He ripped the manuscript into squares and
filtered them through his fingers into the waste-basket.

"You boys are probably right," he said reluctantly. "I have no desire
to see the paper lose its sound footing. But this would have killed
the man socially and politically, so far as this town is concerned."

"Admitted," replied Walford, straightening out some proofs. "But we'll
topple him over in a legitimate way."

"Go ahead, then. I'm not particular how it's done so long as you do
it. Perhaps, after all, it's just as well. I've got another idea. I
can see that I've made a mistake."

McQuade started down the stairs to the street and met Warrington
coming up. The two men paused for a moment, then went on. Once on the
sidewalk, McQuade turned and hesitated. No, he had nothing to say to
Mr. Warrington. He strode down the street toward his own offices.

It will be seen that Warrington had gone directly into the enemy's
camp. He knew Walford of old; they were tolerably good friends. He
gave his card to the boy. Walford, on reading it, stuffed several
newspapers into the waste-basket and pressed his foot on them. He was
a bit shaken.

"Send him in. Hello, Dick," he said. "How are you? You're the last man
I ex