“No,” said Jeremy, mastering himself. “I’ve got to wait. I’ve got to see the Governor.” “But has he got to see you?” inquired the other suggestively. “He has,” said Jeremy with grim positiveness. Governor Embree had closeted himself with Wanser, Bausch, and Fliess. He sent out word that he would see Mr. Robson in half an hour. Jeremy telephoned to Andrew Galpin to hold the editorial page make-up open. He strolled to the window and got an unpleasant shock. Montrose Clark, Judge Dana, and Nicholas Milliken were standing in earnest conference, near one of the park benches. The Socialist, the public utilitarian grafter, and the legal manipulator! It came back to Jeremy’s mind that, according to Galpin, there was a leak of information from The Guardian office to the Fenchester Public Utilities Corporation. Milliken was perhaps the go-between, unlikely though such an association might seem, at first thought. He would speak to Galpin about it. Meantime he had another editorial to outline, and set about it, seated at the table across which the first real action of the war in Centralia had just been fought to an indeterminate result. A buzz of guttural voices inside the door interrupted him. Glancing at the clock he was astonished to see that it marked twenty minutes of one. The half-hour had grown into more than an hour. An inner door opened and the waiting man heard Smiling Mart Embree’s weary but clear-toned “That can wait, gentlemen.” The Germans passed Jeremy, Wanser giving him a civil word and Bausch nodding sardonically, as one might to a none-too-welcome accomplice by compulsion. “Come in, Jem,” summoned the Governor, and the editor of The Guardian advanced to confront his longtime friend, aide, and ally. CHAPTER X ADMIRATION was Jeremy’s first impulse as he faced Martin Embree. The man had so quickly and surely recovered his poise. Serenity was in his tired smile, and the assurance that from Jeremy he would have understanding and sympathy. To destroy that childlike and beaming confidence was a thing smacking of brutality. Jeremy fought off a temptation to temporize and went to the point at once. “Why did you appoint me vice-chairman without consulting me in advance?” The Governor’s smile became both confident and confiding. “Because you’re the man for the place. We need you there.” “Or because you thought it would tie my hands.” “Tie your hands?” “Keep The Guardian quiet.” “The Guardian has to keep quiet, anyway. It’s the only course open to it.” “Is it?” said Jeremy significantly. “Is n’t it? Reason it out for yourself. Either we’re going to get into this war or we’re going to keep out of it.” “We’re going to get into it.” “I don’t believe it. But admit that we are. Until we’re in it, it’s our business, those of us who have influence, to use it in keeping peace at home.” “While the Germans at home work out Germany’s plans.”