How the Judge would take his enforced temporary exile was a speculation which sprang into Jeremy Robson’s mind when, the smoke of the corporation battle having cleared away, he met the shrewd jurist, brown, hearty, and with no slightest liverish symptom, in the hotel restaurant. Would he ignore Jeremy’s existence? The younger man gave him credit for being too sound a sport for that. But he rather expected to be held at a distance. Not at all. Dana came up and shook hands. “Glad to see you looking so well, Judge,” said Jeremy, and meant it. “Liver is n’t much if you take it in time,” returned the other gravely. Then, “You still wield quite a lively pen, my young friend.” “As a weapon of defense, it’s useful.” “Look out that the point does n’t turn in on you.” “Warning or threat, Judge?” “Professional advice. Something I seldom give gratis.” “I’ll bear it in mind. No ill-will, Judge?” “Oh, I can take as well as give,” answered Dana, who prided himself on never admitting and never forgetting an injury. “This is no kid-glove game. But I would n’t have thought poetry had such a punch in politics. I’ll have to look into that line a little closer.” As an example of what the Judge could give in return for what he took, there presently descended upon The Guardian a small but lively swarm of libel suits. All were traceable, directly or inferentially, to the office of Dana & Dana, a firm which did not ordinarily cater to this class of business. Four were wholly without merit; two were of the kind that can always be settled for a hundred dollars and counsel fees, and the remaining one hinged upon an unfortunate and ambiguous sentence in the tax-dodging charge against that aged but vigorous lady, Madam Taylor. “Hold-ups, pure and simple,” said Andrew Galpin indignantly. “Dana has drummed them up.” “Can you trace them to him? Safely enough so that we can print it?” asked his chief. “Print a libel suit against ourselves!” said the general manager, scandalized at this threat against one of the most rock-ribbed principles of a tradition-choked calling. “All seven of ’em. Tying each one up to Dana. No comment. The public will supply that for themselves.” The result more than justified the experiment. Dana & Dana, who had not considered the possibility of this simple _riposte_, hastily withdrew the four weakest suits, amidst no little public amusement. The other three, however, were pressed, causing a continual wear-and-tear of worry and expense, which was their object. Every charge against The Guardian’s exchequer now meant less fighting power later when the test should come.