Eddie had got Mr. Cord to be serious now, with the unfortunate result that the older man was more shocking than ever.

“Free speech doesn’t mean treason and sedition,” Eddie began.

“It means the other man’s opinion.”

There was a pause during which Eddie became more perturbed and Mr. Cord settled back to his habitual calm.

“Wouldn’t you suppress anything?” Verriman asked at length, willing to know the worst.  “Not even such a vile sheet as Liberty?”

“Do you ever see it, Eddie?”

“Read a rotten paper like that?  Certainly not.  Do you?”

“I subscribe to it.”  And, bending down, Mr. Cord unlocked a drawer in his desk and produced the issue of the preceding day.

“I notice you keep it locked up,” said Eddie, and felt that he had scored.

“I have to,” replied Mr. Cord, “or else Crystal gets hold of it and cuts it all up into extracts—­she must have sent you some—­before I get a chance to read it.  Besides, it shocks Tomes.  You ought to talk to Tomes, Eddie.  He thinks about as you do—­”

At this moment the door opened and Tomes himself entered.

“Mr. Moreton would like to see you, sir.”

Even Cord’s calm was a little disturbed by this unexpected news.

“Mr. Moreton!” he exclaimed.  “Not—­not—­not—­not?”

“No, sir,” said Tomes, always in possession of accurate information.  “His brother, I believe.”

“Show him in here,” said Cord, and added to Eddie, as Tomes left the room:  “Well, here he is—­the editor himself, Eddie.  You can say it all to him.”

“I don’t want to see such fellows,” Verriman began.

“Stay and protect me, Eddie.  He may have a bomb in his pocket.”

“You don’t really believe that he’s come to—­”

“No, Eddie, I don’t.  I think he’s come like young Lochinvar—­to dance a little late at the wedding.  To try to persuade me to accept that lazy, good-looking brother of his as a son-in-law.  He’ll have quite a job over that.”  Then, as the door opened, Mr. Cord’s eyes concentrated on it and his manner became a shade sharper.  “Ah, Mr. Moreton, good morning.  Mr. Verriman—­Mr. Moreton.”

Ben was a good-looking young man, but it was his expression—­at once illuminated and determined—­that made him unusual.  And the effect of his night and morning had been to intensify this, so that now, as he stood a moment in the doorway, he was a very attractive and compelling figure.

“I came to see my brother, Mr. Cord,” he said, simply, “but I hear he’s not here any more.  If I could speak to you alone for a few minutes—­” He glanced at Eddie, whom he instantly recognized as the man who had not known how to talk to the woman in the world best worth talking to.

“Oh, you may speak before Mr. Verriman,” said Cord.  “He knows the situation—­knows your brother—­knows my children—­knows about you.  In fact, we were just speaking about your paper when you came in.  However, I must tell you that Mr. Verriman doesn’t approve of Liberty.  At least, I believe I understood you right, Eddie.”  And Mr. Cord, having thus assured himself a few minutes to regain his poise, leaned back comfortably in his chair.