Part 75 (1/2)

Having yielded, Hal proposed to take profit by his surrender. With a cynicism born of his bitter disappointment and self-contempt, he took a certain savage and painful satisfaction in stating the new policy editorially.

”As the 'Clarion' is going to be a journalistic prost.i.tute,” said he to his father, across the luncheon table, where they were consulting on details of the new policy, ”I'm going to go after the business on that basis.”

Dr. Surtaine was pained. Every effort of his own convenient logic he put forth to prove that, in this instance, the path of duty and of glory (financial) was one and the same. Hal refused the proffered gloss. ”At least you and I can call things by their right names now,” said he.

But however Hal might talk, what he wrote met his elder's unqualified approval, as it appeared in the proof sent him by his son. It was a cunningly worded leading editorial, headed ”Standards,” and it dealt appreciatively, not to say reverently, with the commercial greatness of Worthington. Business, the editor stated, might have to adjust itself to new conditions and opinions in Worthington as elsewhere, but n.o.body who understood the character of the city's leading men could doubt their good purpose or ability to effect the change with the least damage to material prosperity. Meantime the fitting att.i.tude for the public was one not of criticism but of forbearance and a.s.sistance. This was equally true of journalism. The ”Clarion” admitted seeing a new light.

Constructive rather than destructive effort was called for. And so forth, and so on. No intelligent reader could have failed, reading it, to understand that the ”Clarion” had hauled down its flag.

Yet the capitulation must not, for business reasons, be too obvious. Hal spent some toilful hours over the proof, inserting plausible phrases, covering his tracks with qualifying clauses, putting the best front on the shameful matter, with a sick but determined heart, and was about to send it up with the final ”O.K.” when he came out of his absorption to realize that some one was standing waiting, had been standing waiting, for some minutes at his elbow. He looked around and met the intent gaze of the foreman of the composing-room.

”What is it, Veltman?” he asked sharply.

”That epidemic story.”

”Well? What about it?”

”Did you order it killed?”

”Certainly. Haven't you thrown it down?”

”No. It's still in type.”

”Throw it down at once.”

”Mr. Surtaine, have you thought what you are doing?”

”It is no part of your job to catechize me, Veltman.”

”Between man and man.” He stepped close to Hal, his face blazing with exaltation. ”I must speak now or forever hold my peace.”

”Speak fast, then.”

”It's your last chance, this epidemic spread. Your last chance to save the 'Clarion' and yourself.”

”That will do, Velt--”

”No, no! Listen to me. I didn't say a word when you kept Milly's suicide out of print.”

”I should think not, indeed!” retorted Hal angrily.

”That's my shame. I ought to have seen that published if I had to set it up myself.”

”Perhaps you're not aware, Veltman, that I know your part in the Neal affair.”

”I'd have confessed to you, if you hadn't. But do you know your own?

Yours and your father's?”

”Keep my father out of this!”