“You’re a public character.” “My name is my own. I’m particular about it. I keep it clean. Your paper has coupled it up with names that are n’t clean.” “Did I choose your political associates, Mr. Laurens?” said Jeremy keenly. “Political criticism is one thing. Innuendoes of crookedness and graft are another.” “We’ll reach no common ground as regards your waterpower operations. I’m against you there. You’re selling to the people, at a profit, power that should belong to them.” “That’s theory. With that I’ve no quarrel. But when your paper moralizes about franchise-grafting, and hints at bribery, leave me out of it.” The editor reflected. On Martin Embree’s representations, he had assumed Laurens’s operations to be founded in corruption. But what proof had he, after all? “The Dollard’s Falls Charter--” he began and was cut short. “The records are open to you. The books of the company are open to you. I’ll even go that far, if it’s facts you’re after. Or is it hush-money?” “Which do you think?” The hard, blue eyes looked at him with a more interested scrutiny. Magnus Laurens grunted. “Bird of a different feather from Wymett,” he surmised doubtfully. “A little.” “Well, I’m different from Sellers and Corey and Bellows and that lot. Bear that in mind. If you couple me up with them again, I’ll be back here for _real_ trouble.” “Coming back to lick the editor?” asked Jeremy, contemplating the muscle-packed figure of the other with a smile. “If so, I’ll lay in a length of lead pipe.” “Lay in a lawyer and a good one,” advised the visitor grimly. “For I’ll be after you for criminal libel. No fiddling little damage suits for me. That’s what I came to tell you.” “All right. I’ve got it. Anything else?” “No.” “Then it’s my turn. You control the Oak Lodge Pulp Company.” “I have an interest in it.” “The Guardian buys its print paper from you.” “Yes.” “When you came here did you have in mind any--well, exchange of courtesies, editorial for business consideration, in respect to future deals?” “I did not. I don’t do business that way,” retorted Magnus Laurens with emphasis. “Did you think that perhaps I was aiming in that direction, with my comments on you?” The magnate changed color a little. “I might have suspected something of the sort.” “You were wrong.” “Very well. I was wrong. Anything else?” “Yes. If I’ll undertake that The Guardian shall say nothing more along the line which you find objectionable without specific and definite charges taken from the records, will you acquit me--that is, will you consider that you’ve scared me sufficiently?” Magnus Laurens blinked. “I’m not a fool,” he said presently. “Scared you? You’re no more afraid of me than I am of you.” “Then you’ve done better than scare me. You’ve convinced me that you mean what you say. You and I can fight fair.”