He saw no way out at all. His mind revolved at fever heat, while he said calmly: "Go back to your employers, Mr. Hammerton, and report that you have no story to sell them. Say further that since they knowingly printed a lying slander about me this morning, you, as an honorable man, insist upon their making full retractions and apologies to-morrow." Hammerton, who had taken his interview as a foregone conclusion, looked momentarily astounded; but on top of that his manner changed again, to meet Varney's changed one, in the wink of an eye. "You can't mean," he said briskly, ignoring Varney's last remark entirely, "that you decline to make a statement for our readers?" "Why should I encourage your readers to stick their infernal noses into my business?" "For your own sake, Mr. Varney--because everybody has started asking questions. To refuse to answer them, from your point of view, is the worst thing you could do. As you know, newspapers always have other sources of information, and also ways of making intelligent guesses. While these guesses are usually surprisingly accurate, it sometimes happens that we work out a theory that is a whole lot worse than the truth." "Of course," said Varney, with sudden absentness. "That's the way you sell your dirty papers, is n't it?" "Mr. Varney, why did you come--?" began Hammerton, but stopped short, perceiving that the other no longer listened, and quite content to leave him to a little reflection. For Varney, struck by a thought so new that it was overwhelming, had unexpectedly turned away. He leaned upon the rail and looked out over the blue, sunny water. A brilliant plan had flashed into his mind--a big daring plan which, far more than anything else he had thought of, might be effective and final. Instead of making an enemy of Hammerton, which could accomplish nothing, it would turn him into a champion, which meant victory. It was a desperate solution, but it was a solution. After all, what else remained? To dismiss the boy with nothing would be to send him straight to the Carstairs house with no one knew what results. To manhandle him would be simply to start another sleuth on the trail. But this plan, if it worked, would avoid that, and every other, risk of trouble. And if it failed, he would be no worse off than he was now; for in that case he would not allow Hammerton to go back to the _Gazette_ at all that day. He dropped his cigarette over the side, turned and found the eye of the press firmly fastened upon him.