“A masterpiece of hinting and suggestion and information for those who can read between the lines.  Not many have the eye for it.  With me you won’t have to write between the lines.  Not on labor or political questions, anyway.  You’re a Socialist, aren’t you?”

“Yes.  You’re not going to make The Patriot a Socialist paper, are you?”

“Some people might call it that.  I’m going to make it a popular paper.  It’s going to be for the many against the few.  How are you going to bring about Socialism?”

“Education.”

“Exactly!  What better chance could you ask?  A paper devoted to the interests of the masses, and willing to print facts.  I want you to do the same sort of thing that you’ve been doing for The Courier; a job of handling the big, general stories.  You’ll be responsible to me alone.  The salary will be a third higher than you are now getting.  Think it over.”

“I’ve thought.  I’m bought,” said Russell Edmonds.  He resumed his pipe.

“And you, Mr. Banneker?”

“I’m not a Socialist, in the party sense.  Besides a Socialist paper in New York has no chance of big circulation.”

“Oh, The Patriot isn’t going to tag itself.  Politically it will be independent.  Its policy will be socialistic only in that it will be for labor rather than capital and for the under dog as against the upper dog.  It certainly won’t tie up to the Socialist Party or advocate its principles.  It’s for fair play and education.”

“What’s your purpose?” demanded Banneker.  “Money?”

“I’ve a very comfortable income,” replied Marrineal modestly.

“Political advancement?  Influence?  Want to pull the wires?” persisted the other.

“The game.  I’m out of employment and tired of it.”

“And you think I could be of use in your plan?  But you don’t know much about me.”

Marrineal murmured smilingly something indefinite but complimentary as to Banneker’s reputation on Park Row; but this was by no means a fair index to what he knew about Banneker.

Indeed, that prematurely successful reporter would have been surprised at the extent to which Marrineal’s private investigations had gone.  Not only was the purchaser of The Patriot apprised of Banneker’s professional career in detail, but he knew of his former employment, and also of his membership in The Retreat, which he regarded with perplexity and admiration.  Marrineal was skilled at ascertainments.  He made a specialty of knowing all about people.

“With Mr. Edmonds on roving commission and you to handle the big local stuff,” he pursued, “we should have the nucleus of a news organization.  Like him, you would be responsible to me alone.  And, of course, it would be made worth your while.  What do you think?  Will you join us?”

“No.”

“No?” There was no slightest hint of disappointment, surprise, or resentment in Marrineal’s manner.  “Do you mind giving me the reason?”