t
forth the importance to the city of the centennial Old Home Week, and
urged the inadvisability of any sensationalism which might alarm the
public.

"We have sufficient assurance that there's nothing dangerous in the
present situation," he said.

"I haven't," said Hal. "If I had, there would be nothing further to be
said. The 'Clarion' is not seeking to manufacture a sensation."

"What is the 'Clarion' seeking to do?" asked Stensland, another of the
committee.

"Discover and print the news."

"Well, it isn't news until it's printed," Hollenbeck pointed out
comfortably. "And what's the use of printing that sort of thing, anyway?
It does a lot of people a lot of harm; but I don't see how it can
possibly do any one any good."

"Oh, put things straight," said Stensland. "Here, Mr. Editor; you've
stirred up a lot of trouble and lost a lot of advertising by it. Now,
you start an epidemic scare and kill off the biggest retail business of
the year, and you won't find an advertiser in town to stand by you. Is
that plain?"

"Plain coercion," said Hal.

"Call it what you like," began the apostle of frankness, when Hollenbeck
cut in on him.

"No use getting excited," he said. "Let's hear Mr. Surtaine's views.
What do you think ought to be done about the Rookeries?"

In anticipation of some such question Hal had been in consultation with
Dr. Elliot and the health officer that morning.

"Open up the Rookeries to the health authorities and to private
physicians other than Dr. De Vito. Call Tip O'Farrell's blockade off.
Clean out and disinfect the tenements. If necessary, quarantine every
building that's suspected."

"Why, what do you think the disease is?" cried Hollenbeck, taken aback
by the positiveness of Hal's speech.

"Do _you_ tell _me_. You've come here to give directions."

"Something in the nature of malaria," said Hollenbeck, recovering
himself. "So there's no call for extreme measures. The Old Home Week
Committee will look after the cleaning-up. As for quarantine, that would
be a confession. And we want to do the thing as quietly as possible."

"You've come to the wrong shop to buy quiet," said Hal mildly.

"Now listen to _me_." Elias M. Pierce sat forward in his chair and
fixed his stony gaze on Hal's face. "This is what you'll do with the
'Clarion.' You'll agree here and now to print nothing about this alleged
epidemic."

Hal turned upon him a silent but benign regard. The recollection of that
con