Io told him.

“Are you willing to go on the stand?”

“Certainly; if it will do any good.”

“Not much, so far as the case goes.  But it will force it into the newspapers.  ‘Society Leader Takes Part of Working-Girls,’ and so-on.  The publicity will be useful.”

The magistrate on the bench was lenient; dismissed most of the prisoners with a warning against picketing; fined a few; sent two to jail.  He seemed surprised and not a little impressed by the distinguished Mrs. Delavan Eyre’s appearance in the proceedings, and sent word out to the reporters’ room, thereby breaking up a game of pinochle at its point of highest interest.  There was a man there from The Patriot.

With eager expectation Io, back in her Philadelphia apartment, sent out for a copy of the New York Patriot.  Greatly to her disgust she found herself headlined, half-toned, described; but with very little about the occasion of her testimony, a mere mention of the strike and nothing whatsoever regarding the police brutalities which had so stirred her wrath.  Io discovered that she had lost her taste for publicity, in a greater interest.  Her first thought was to write Banneker indignantly; her second to ask explanations when he called her on the ’phone as he now did every noon; her third to let the matter stand until she went to New York and saw him.  On her arrival, several days later, she went direct to his office.  Banneker’s chief interest, next to his ever-thrilling delight in seeing her, was in the part played by Willis Enderby.

“What is he doing in that galley?” he wondered.

To her explanation he shook his head.  Something more than that, he was sure.  Asking Io’s permission he sent for Russell Edmonds.

“Isn’t this a new role for Enderby?” he asked.

“Not at all.  He’s been doing this sort of thing always.  Usually on the quiet.”

“The fact that this is far from being on the quiet suggests politics, doesn’t it?  Making up to the labor vote?”

“What on earth should Cousin Billy care for the labor vote?” demanded Io.  “Mr. Laird is dead politically, isn’t he?”

“But Judge Enderby isn’t.  Mr. Edmonds will tell you that much.”

“True enough.  Enderby is a man to be reckoned with.  Particularly if—­” Edmonds paused, hesitant.

“If—­” prompted Banneker.  “Fire ahead, Pop.”

“If Marrineal should declare in on the race for the governorship, next fall.”

“Without any state organization?  Is that probable?” asked Banneker.

“Only in case he should make a combination with the old ring crowd, who are, naturally, grateful for his aid in putting over Halloran for them.  It’s quite within the possibilities.”

“After the way The Patriot and Mr. Marrineal himself have flayed the ring?” exclaimed Io.  “It isn’t possible.  How could he so go back on himself?”

Edmonds turned his fine and serious smile upon her.  “Mr. Marrineal’s guiding principle of politics and journalism is that the public never remembers.  If he persuades the ring to nominate him, Enderby is the logical candidate against him.  In my belief he’s the only man who could beat him.”