Warrington.

He pushed it across the table.  “There, that will smooth the way.”

“Many thanks, my son.  Where’s he eat his lunch?”

“Usually in the office.”

“Well, I’m off!”

Ben always had his eye on the story of to-morrow, and he would face all or any difficulties in pursuit of the end.  If he could stop the strike at the Bennington shops it would be a great thing for the Telegraph and a great thing for Ben.  So he hailed a car, serenely unconscious that he was taking a position absolutely opposed to that of his employer.  He arrived at the shops some time before the noon hour.  His letter opened all doors.  Bennington was in his private office.  He read the letter and offered Ben a chair.

“I have never been interviewed,” he said.

“I am not here for an interview,” said Ben.  “Your men will go out Monday.”

“Monday?  How did you learn that?”

“My business takes me among the unions.  What shall you do in the event of the strike?”

“And I have no desire to be interviewed.”

“You read Mr. Warrington’s letter.  Perhaps, if I knew what stand you will take, I could talk to the men myself.  I have averted three or four strikes in my time, simply because the boys know that I always speak the truth, the plain truth.  In this case I feel that you have the right on your side.  You haven’t said anything yet.  The union is practically trying to bluff you into coming to its terms:  the discharge of the inventor, or a strike.”

“Are you representing the union?”

“I am representing nobody but myself.”

“I may tell you, then, that I shall not discharge the inventor.  Nor will I, if the men go out, take a single one of them back.”

“The men will not believe that.  They never do.  They’ve been so successful in Pennsylvania that they are attempting to repeat that success all over the Country.  They have grown pig-headed.  I feel sorry for the poor devils, who never realize when they are well off.”

“I feel sorry, too, Mr. Jordan,” said Bennington.  He played a tattoo on his strong white teeth with his pencil.  “Mr. Warrington seems to know you well.”

“We began on the Journal together.  You will not tell me what your plan is, then?”

“I’d rather not, for honestly, I can not see how it would better the case.”

“It might be worth while to give me a chance.”

Bennington re-read Warrington’s note.  Then he studied the frank blue eyes of the reporter.

“Miss Ward, you may go,” he said to the stenographer.  “Now,”—­when the girl had gone,—­“you will give me your word?”

“It’s all I have.”

“How can you convince the men without telling them?”

“Oh, I meant that whatever you tell me shall not see light in the papers till I have your permission.  There’s a weekly meeting to-night.  They will decide finally at this meeting.  To-morrow will be too late.”