’But he might not understand my errand.  It relates to an indictment handed down in 1884 for malversasion of school funds.’  ’Young man, do you dare to intimate—­’ and so forth and so on; bluster and bluff and threat.  Says Ives, very cool:  ’Let me have your denial in writing and we’ll print it opposite the certified copy of the indictment.’  The old boy begins to whimper; ’That’s outlawed.  It was all wrong, anyway.’  Ives is sympathetic, but stands pat.  Drop the suit and The Patriot will be considerate and settle the legal fees.  Aminadab drops, ten times out of ten.  The sandbag has put him away.”

“But there must be an eleventh case where there’s nothing on the man that’s suing.”

“Say a ninety-ninth.  One libel suit in a hundred may be brought in good faith.  But we never settle until after Ives has done his little prowl.”

“It sounds bad, Pop.  But is it so bad, after all?  We’ve got to protect ourselves against a hold-up.”

“Dirty work, but somebody’s got to do it:  ay—­yes?  I agree with you.  As a means of self-defense it is excusable.  But the operations of the sandbag have gone far beyond libel in Ives’s hands.”

“Have they?  To what extent?”

“Any.  His little private detective agency—­he’s got a couple of our porch-climbing, keyhole reporters secretly assigned to him at call for ’special work’—­looks after any man we’ve got or are likely to have trouble with; advertisers who don’t come across properly, city officials who play in with the other papers too much, politicians—­”

“But that’s rank blackmail!” exclaimed Banneker.

“Carried far enough it is.  So far it’s only private information for the private archives.”

“Marrineal’s?”

“Yes.  He and his private counsel, old Mark Stecklin, are the keepers of them.  Now, suppose Judge Enderby runs afoul of our interests, as he is bound to do sooner or later.  Little Weaselfoot gets on his trail—­probably is on it already—­and he’ll spend a year if necessary watching, waiting, sniffing out something that he can use as a threat or a bludgeon or a bargain.”

“What quarrel have we got with Enderby?” inquired Banneker with lively interest.

“None, now.  But we’ll be after him hot and heavy within a year.”

“Not the editorial page,” declared Banneker.

“Well, I hope not.  It would be rather a right-about, wouldn’t it?  But Marrineal isn’t afraid of a right-about.  You know his creed as to his readers:  ‘The public never remembers.’  Of course, you realize what Marrineal is after, politically.”

“No.  He’s never said a word to me.”

“Nor to me.  But others have.  The mayoralty.”

“For himself?”

“Of course.  He’s quietly building up his machine.”

“But Laird will run for reelection.”

“He’ll knife Laird.”

“It’s true Laird hasn’t treated us very well, in the matter of backing our policies,” admitted Banneker thoughtfully.  “The Combined Street Railway franchise, for instance.”