Suddenly Jeremy looked tired and old. “I don’t know,” he said lifelessly. “Is there any danger of The Guardian having to give up in the next month?” “It’s getting harder sledding all the time,” confessed Jeremy. “The strike might finish us, at that.” “Publication date of The Fair Dealer is postponed two weeks,” observed the lawyer. “No! What’s caused that?” “How should I know? They say part of the machinery has been lost in transit. It was shipped via the Lake Belt Line, for which I happen to be counsel. But I can’t imagine”--he paused, and Jeremy saw a distinct, enlightening flicker of his left eyelid--“I can _not_ imagine what has caused the unfortunate delay! I should think there might be danger of their losing some of their promised advertising!” “Oh, their contracts are all made. Trust Verrall for that.” “Doubtless. But will they hold? I understand they specified an issue of July 5th.” “What of it?” said Jeremy wearily. “The advertisers will make new contracts. You could n’t pry ’em away from that twenty-five thousand circulation at the low rate given.” “Who knows what the morrow may bring forth?” said the lawyer oracularly. “‘I could a tale unfold’--” He stopped, with a large gesture. “There’s always a cloven hoof that goes with your kind of tail,” retorted Jeremy. “But if you’ve really got anything cheery up your sleeve, spring it. I could do with a little cheering-up right now. That postponement of publication is a good start. What’s next?” “My son, the less you know just now, the better. But I’ll tell you this: Some of us who are--well--interested in The Guardian, for reasons of our own, are skating on the thin edge of conspiracy, treason, stratagem, and crime, as it is. Do you want in? You do not want in! You stay out and keep a stiff upper lip. Can’t use any of our spare cash? No! Well, if your neck was a little stiffer it’d break! Good-bye, and hang on!” All of which Jeremy promptly retailed to the faithful Galpin with the comment: “Something’s certainly up, but how much is for us, and how much for Clark, Dana & Company, I don’t know.” “You got a mean, suspicious sort of mind, Boss,” grinned the general manager. “But I admit I don’t get that bunch yet.” “Nor I. But I’m watching.” “Somebody’s pushing on the reins upstairs again. If the strike don’t bust this week, I’m a goat! I caught Milliken hanging round yesterday and chased him out. Gave him the police talk.” “Dana knew all about Milliken and the strike. Had it from Milliken himself.” “Wheels and wheels and wheels!” commented Andy, making expansive and elegantly rounded gestures. “Wheels within wheels; wheels without wheels; wheels going in opposite directions and at different speeds. They make me dizzy!”