"You don't kill them, either. Darius, did you ever stop to think how--how awfully evil this whole setup is? I don't mean just about you and how the _World_ wants to make a story out of killing off the opposition. I mean everything. I mean Weaver Wainwright starting a war in Europe so his paper can get the inside story on it. I mean the President of Yugoslavia being blackmailed by a garden variety newspaperman. I mean Cripp getting chewed out because he went to cover a suicide and the man didn't jump. We ought to celebrate, don't you see? A human life was saved. I mean me getting myself caught with important men so their wives sue for divorce and we get the story. I mean disease that doesn't have to happen and medical cures held back until one paper or another can scoop them. I mean scientific discoveries which aren't made because research scientists and development engineers are on newspaper payrolls and perform their basic research and experiments, then wait for the newspaper stories to be released at an editor's leisure. I mean ... oh, what's the use? You're laughing at me." McLeod was trying not to smile but meeting with little success. "I just never heard you talk like that before, that's all. Tracy, you're like a little girl in a lot of ways--idealistic, romantic, building castles on air and not accepting the real world, but--" "Real!" Tracy cried. "It's phony from the word go. We're making it--to suit headlines." "Stop shouting," McLeod said in alarm. "People are staring at you." "I don't care about them." "Well, I do. Before you know it, they'll be investigating you for Anti-Newspaper tendencies. What's the matter with you?" "My God! Don't sound so gosh-awful righteous, Darius. You treat this newspaper business like a religion." "Maybe I like being top-dog." "So now you're going to get yourself killed. A sacrifice to the Headline God." "Stop it," McLeod said. "I won't get killed if I can help it." "And if Wainwright can help it too, is that the idea?" "What are you talking about?" "Sometimes I ... I hate you, Darius McLeod. That's what I'm talking about. They're going to kill someone else and change your face and let you work for the _World_." Tracy stood up and patted her lips with a napkin. McLeod climbed to his feet too. "How did you know about that?" "Don't bother getting up. I can find my way back alone, thank you." McLeod sat down, staring at her. "Maybe it's because I'm a spy. Maybe I work for the _World_." Tracy pivoted and stalked away, her heels click-clacking defiantly on the marble floor. McLeod gaped after her until she disappeared. CHAPTER III