g-distance thinker, Tertius Marrineal.

Operating through invisible channels and by a method which neither
Banneker nor Edmonds ever succeeded in fathoming, his influence now
began to be felt for the better tone of the news columns. They became
less glaringly sensational. Yet the quality of the news upon which the
paper specialized was the same; it was the handling which was insensibly
altered. That this was achieved without adversely affecting circulation
was another proof, added to those already accumulated, of Marrineal's
really eminent journalistic capacities. The change was the less obvious,
because The Patriot's competitors in the Great Three-Ringed Circus of
Sensation had found themselves being conducted, under that leadership,
farther along the primrose path of stimulation and salaciousness than
they had realized, and had already modified their policies.

Even under the new policy, however, The Patriot would hardly have
proven, upon careful analysis, more decent or self-respecting. But it
was less obvious; cleverer in avoiding the openly offensive. Capron had
been curbed in his pictorial orgies. The copy-readers had been supplied
with a list of words and terms tabooed from the captions. But the
influence of Severance was still potent in the make-up of the news.
While Banneker was relieved at the change, he suspected its impermanency
should it prove unsuccessful. To neither his chief editorial writer nor
Russell Edmonds had the proprietor so much as hinted at the modification
of scheme. His silence to these two was part of his developing policy of
separating more widely the different departments of the paper in order
that he might be the more quietly and directly authoritative over all.

The three men were lunching late at Delmonico's, and talking politics,
when Edmonds leaned forward in his seat to look toward the entrance.

"There's Severance," said he. "What's the matter with him?"

The professional infuser of excitements approached walking carefully
among the tables. His eyes burned in a white face.

"On one of his sprees," diagnosed Banneker. "Oh, Severance! Sit down
here."

"I beg your p-p-pardon." Severance spoke with marked deliberation and
delicacy, but with a faint stammer. "These not b-being office hours, I
have not the p-pleasure of your acquaintance."

Marrineal smiled.

"The p-pale rictus of the damned," observed Severance. "As one damned
soul to another, I c-confess a longing for companion