“Yes; I gave them the same interview.  It may have been crowded out—­”

“For lack of space,” supplied Enderby in a tone which the other heartily disliked.  “Mr. Banneker, I thought that this was to be in the open.”

“I’m wrong,” confessed the other.  “I’ll know by this evening why the police part was handled that way, and if it was policy—­” He stopped, considering.

“Well?” prompted the other.

“I’ll go through to the finish with your committee.”

“You’re as good as pledged,” retorted the lawyer.  “I shall expect to hear from you.”

As soon as he could find Tommy Burt, Banneker put to him the direct question.  “What is the matter with the story as I gave it to you?”

Burt assumed an air of touching innocence.  “The story had to be handled with great care,” he explained blandly.

“Come off, Tommy.  Didn’t you write the police part?”

Tommy Burl’s eyes denoted the extreme of candor.  “It was suggested to me that your views upon the police, while interesting and even important, might be misunderstood.”

“Is that so?  And who made the suggestion?”

“An all-wise city desk.”

“Thank you.  Tommy.”

“The Morning Ledger,” volunteered Tommy Burt, “has a high and well-merited reputation for its fidelity to the principles of truth and fairness and to the best interests of the reading public.  It never gives the public any news to play with that it thinks the dear little thing ought not to have.  Did you say anything?  No?  Well; you meant it.  You’re wrong.  The Ledger is the highest-class newspaper in New York.  We are the Elect!”

In his first revulsion of anger, Banneker was for going to Mr. Greenough and having it out with him.  If it meant his resignation, very good.  He was ready to look his job in the eye and tell it to go to hell.  Turning the matter over in his mind, however, he decided upon another course.  So far as the sensational episode of which he was the central figure went, he would regard himself consistently as a private citizen with no responsibility whatsoever to The Ledger.  Let the paper print or suppress what it chose; his attitude toward it would be identical with his attitude toward the other papers.  Probably the office powers would heartily disapprove of his having any dealings with Enderby and his Law Enforcement Society.  Let them!  He telephoned a brief but final message to Enderby and Enderby.  When, late that night, Mr. Gordon called him over and suggested that it was highly desirable to let the whole affair drop out of public notice as soon as the startling facts would permit, he replied that Judge Enderby had already arranged to push an investigation.

“Doubtless,” observed the managing editor.  “It is his specialty.  But without your evidence they can’t go far.”

“They can have my evidence.”

Mr. Gordon, who had been delicately balancing his letter-opener, now delivered a whack of such unthinking ferocity upon his fat knuckle as to produce a sharp pang.  He gazed in surprise and reproach upon the aching thumb and something of those emotions informed the regard which he turned slowly upon Banneker.