“Cheap and nasty,” was the veteran’s succinct criticism.

“Any more so than The Sphere?  The Sphere’s successful.”

“Because it plays fair with the main facts.  It may gloss ’em up with a touch of sensationalism, like the oil on a barkeep’s hair.  But it does go after the facts, and pretty generally it presents ’em as found.  The Patriot is fakey; clumsy at it, too.  Any man arrested with more than five dollars in his pocket is a millionaire clubman.  If Bridget O’Flaherty jumps off Brooklyn Bridge, she becomes a prominent society woman with picture (hers or somebody else’s) in The Patriot.  And the cheapest little chorus-girl tart, who blackmails a broker’s clerk with a breach of promise, gets herself called a ‘distinguished actress’ and him a ‘well-known financier.’  Why steal the Police Gazette’s rouge and lip-stick?”

“Because it’s what the readers want.”

“All right.  But at least give it to ’em well done.  And cut out the printing of wild rumors as news.  That doesn’t get a paper anything in the long run.  None of your readers have any faith in The Patriot.”

“Does any paper have the confidence of its public?” returned Marrineal.

Touched upon a sensitive spot, Edmonds cursed briefly.  “If it hasn’t, it’s because the public has a dam’-fool fad for pretending it doesn’t believe what it reads.  Of course it believes it!  Otherwise, how would it know who’s president, or that the market sagged yesterday?  This ‘I-never-believe-what-I-read-in-the-papers’ guff makes me sick to the tips of my toes.”

“Only the man who knows newspapers from the inside can disbelieve them scientifically,” put in Banneker with a smile.

“What would you do with The Patriot if you had it?” interrogated the proprietor.

“I?  Oh, I’d try to make it interesting,” was the prompt and simple reply.

“How, interesting?”

For his own purposes Banneker chose to misinterpret the purport of the question.  “So interesting that half a million people would have to read it.”

“You think you could do that?”

“I think it could be done.”

“Will you come with me and try it?”

“You’re offering me a place on The Patriot staff?”

“Precisely.  Mr. Edmonds is joining.”

That gentleman breathed a small cloud of blue vapor into the air together with the dispassionate query:  “Is that so?  Hadn’t heard of it.”

“My principle in business is to determine whether I want a man or an article, and then bid a price that can’t be rejected.”

“Sound,” admitted the veteran.  “Perfectly sound.  But I’m not specially in need of money.”

“I’m offering you opportunity.”

“What kind?”

“Opportunity to handle big stories according to the facts as you see them.  Not as you had to handle the Sippiac strike story.”

Edmonds set down his pipe.  “What did you think of that?”