"Carried far enough it is. So far it's only private information for the
private archives."

"Marrineal's?"

"Yes. He and his private counsel, old Mark Stecklin, are the keepers of
them. Now, suppose Judge Enderby runs afoul of our interests, as he is
bound to do sooner or later. Little Weaselfoot gets on his
trail--probably is on it already--and he'll spend a year if necessary
watching, waiting, sniffing out something that he can use as a threat or
a bludgeon or a bargain."

"What quarrel have we got with Enderby?" inquired Banneker with lively
interest.

"None, now. But we'll be after him hot and heavy within a year."

"Not the editorial page," declared Banneker.

"Well, I hope not. It would be rather a right-about, wouldn't it? But
Marrineal isn't afraid of a right-about. You know his creed as to his
readers: 'The public never remembers.' Of course, you realize what
Marrineal is after, politically."

"No. He's never said a word to me."

"Nor to me. But others have. The mayoralty."

"For himself?"

"Of course. He's quietly building up his machine."

"But Laird will run for reelection."

"He'll knife Laird."

"It's true Laird hasn't treated us very well, in the matter of backing
our policies," admitted Banneker thoughtfully. "The Combined Street
Railway franchise, for instance."

"He was right in that and you were wrong, Ban. He had to follow the
comptroller there."

"Is that where our split with Enderby is going to come? Over the
election?"

"Yes. Enderby is the brains and character back of the Laird
administration. He represents the clean government crowd, with its
financial power."

Banneker stirred fretfully in his chair. "Damn it!" he growled. "I wish
we could run this paper _as_ a newspaper and not as a chestnut rake."

"How sweet and simple life would be!" mocked the veteran. "Still, you
know, if you're going to use The Patriot as a blunderbuss to point at
the heads of your own enemies, you can't blame the owner if he--"

"You think Marrineal knows?" interposed Banneker sharply.

"About The Searchlight matter? You can bet on one thing, Ban. Everything
that Ely Ives knows, Tertius Marrineal knows. So far as Ives thinks it
advisable for him to know, that is. Over and above which Tertius is no
fool, himself. You may have noticed that."

"It's bothered me from time to time," admitted the other dryly.

"It'll bother both of us more, presently," prophesied Edmonds.

"Then I've been play