those whom he worked for or worked
against and branching from them to others along radiating lines of
business, social, or family relationships. To him New York was a huge
web, of sinister and promising design, dim, involved, too often
impenetrable in the corners where the big spiders spin. He had two
guiding maxims: "It may come in handy some day," and "They'll all bear
watching." Before the prosperous time, he had been, in his devotion to
his guiding principles, a practitioner of the detective arts in some of
their least savory phases; had haunted doorsteps, lurked upon corners,
been rained upon, snowed upon, possibly spat upon, even arrested; all of
which he accepted, mournful but uncomplaining. One cannot
whole-heartedly serve an ideal and come off scatheless. He was adroit,
well-spoken, smooth of surface, easy of purse, untiring, supple, and of
an inexhaustible good-humor. It was from the ex-medical student that
Marrineal had learned of Banneker's offer from the Syndicate, also of
his over-prodigal hand in money matters.

"He's got to have the cash," was the expert's opinion upon Banneker.
"There's your hold on him.... Quit? No danger. New York's in his blood.
He's in love with life, puppy-love; his clubs, his theater first-nights,
his invitations to big houses which he seldom accepts, big people coming
to his House with Three Eyes. And, of course, his sense of power in the
paper. No; he won't quit. How could he? He'll compromise."

"Do you figure him to be the compromising sort?" asked Marrineal
doubtfully.

"He isn't the journalistic Puritan that he lets on to be. Look at that
Harvey Wheelwright editorial," pointed out the acute Ives. "He don't
believe what he wrote about Wheelwright; just did it for his own
purposes. Well, if the oracle can work himself for his own purposes,
others can work him when the time comes, if it's properly managed."

Marrineal shook his head. "If there's a weakness in him I haven't found
it."

Ives put on a look of confidential assurance. "Be sure it's there. Only
it isn't of the ordinary kind. Banneker is pretty big in his way. No,"
he pursued thoughtfully; "it isn't women, and it isn't Wall Street, and
it isn't drink; it isn't even money, in the usual sense. But it's
something. By the way, did I tell you that I'd found an acquaintance
from the desert where Banneker hails from?"

"No." Marrineal's tone subtly indicated that he should have been told at
once. That sort of thing wa