“Catch him!” grunted the other, reverting to his task.  “More likely going to raise your salary.”

As between the two surmises, Edmonds’s was the nearer the truth.  Urbane as always, the proprietor of The Patriot waved his editor to a seat, remarking, “I hope you’ll sit down this time,” the slightly ironical tinge to the final words being, in the course of the interview, his only reference to their previous encounter.  Wondering dully whether Marrineal could have any idea of the murderous hatred which he inspired, Banneker took the nearest chair and waited.  After some discussion as to the policy of the paper in respect to the strike, which was on the point of settlement by compromise, Marrineal set his delicate fingers point to point and said: 

“I want to talk to you about the future.”

“I’m listening,” returned Banneker uncompromisingly.

“Your ultimate ambition is to own and control a newspaper of your own, isn’t it?”

“Why do you think that?”

Marrineal’s slow, sparse smile hardly moved his lips.  “It’s in character that you should.  What else is there for you?”

“Well?”

“Have you ever thought of The Patriot?”

Involuntarily Banneker straightened in his chair.  “Is The Patriot in the market?”

“Hardly.  That isn’t what I have in mind.”

“Will you kindly be more explicit?”

“Mr. Banneker, I intend to be the next governor of this State.”

“I might quote a proverb on that point,” returned the editor unpleasantly.

“Yes; and I might cap your cup-and-lip proverb with another as to the effect of money as a stimulus in a horse-race.”

“I have no doubts as to your financial capacity.”

“My organization is building up through the State.  I’ve got the country newspapers in a friendly, not to say expectant, mood.  There’s just one man I’m afraid of.”

“Judge Enderby?”

“Exactly.”

“I should think he would be an admirable nominee.”

“As an individual you are at liberty to hold such opinions as you please.  As editor of The Patriot—­”

“I am to support The Patriot candidate and owner.  Did you send for me to tell me that, Mr. Marrineal?  I’m not altogether an idiot, please remember.”

“You are a friend of Judge Enderby.”

“If I am, that is a personal, not a political matter.  No matter how much I might prefer to see him the candidate of the party”—­Banneker spoke with cold deliberation—­“I should not stultify myself or the paper by supporting him against the paper’s owner.”

“That is satisfactory.”  Marrineal swallowed the affront without a gulp.  “To continue.  If I am elected governor, nothing on earth can prevent my being the presidential nominee two years later.”

Equally appalled and amused by the enormous egotism of the man thus suddenly revealed, Banneker studied him in silence.