" said Banneker, startled.

"Of necessity. What would you suppose?"

"Your information is fairly accurate."

"I'm prepared to make you a guarantee of forty thousand, as a minimum."

"I shall make nearer sixty than fifty this year."

"At the expense of a possible loss to the paper. Come, Mr. Banneker; the
fairness of my offer is evident. A generous guarantee, and a brilliant
chance of future profits."

"_And_ a free hand with my editorials?"

"Surely that will arrange itself."

"Precisely what I fear." Banneker had been making some swift
calculations on his desk-blotter. Now he took up a blue pencil and with
a gesture, significant and not without dramatic effect, struck it down
through the reckoning. "No, Mr. Marrineal. It isn't good enough. I hold
to the old status. When our contract is out--"

"Just a moment, Mr. Banneker. Isn't there a French proverb, something
about no man being as indispensable as he thinks?" Marrineal's voice was
never more suave and friendly. "Before you make any final decision, look
these over." He produced from his pocket half a dozen of what appeared
to be Patriot editorial clippings.

The editor of The Patriot glanced rapidly through them. A puzzled frown
appeared on his face.

"When did I write these?"

"You didn't."

"Who did?"

"I"

"They're dam' good."

"Aren't they!"

"Also, they're dam' thievery."

"Doubtless you mean flattery. In its sincerest form. Imitation."

"Perfect. I could believe I'd written them myself."

"Yes; I've been a very careful student of The Patriot's editorial
style."

"The Patriot's! Mine!"

"Surely not. You would hardly contend seriously that, having paid the
longest price on record for the editorials, The Patriot has not a vested
right in them and their style."

"I see," said Banneker thoughtfully. Inwardly he cursed himself for the
worst kind of a fool; the fool who underestimates the caliber of his
opponent.

"Would you say," continued the smooth voice of the other, "that these
might be mistaken for your work?"

"Nobody would know the difference. It's robbery of the rankest kind. But
it's infernally clever."

"I'm not going to quarrel with you over a definition, Mr. Banneker,"
said Marrineal. He leaned a little forward with a smile so frank and
friendly that it quite astonished the other. "And I'm not going to let
you go, either," he pursued. "You need me and I need you. I'm not fool
enough to suppose that the imitation can ev