"Blown about by the gales of politics." Edmonds accepted the figure. "Well, the newspaper ought to be the gale." "I gather that you gentlemen do not think highly of present journalistic conditions." "You overheard our discussion," said Banneker bluntly. Marrineal assented. "It did not seem private. Katie's is a sort of free forum. That is why I come. I like to listen. Besides, it touched me pretty closely at one or two points." The two others turned toward him, waiting. He nodded, and took upon himself an air of well-pondered frankness. "I expect to take a more active part in journalism from now on." Edmonds followed up the significant phrase. "_More_ active? You have newspaper interests?" "Practically speaking, I own The Patriot. What do you gentlemen think of it?" "Who reads The Patriot?" inquired Banneker. He was unprepared for the swift and surprised flash from Marrineal's fine eyes, as if some profoundly analytical or revealing suggestion had been made. "Forty thousand men, women, and children. Not half enough, of course." "Not a tenth enough, I would say, if I owned the paper. Nor are they the right kind of readers." "How would you define them, then?" asked Marrineal, still in that smooth voice. "Small clerks. Race-track followers. People living in that class of tenements which call themselves flats. The more intelligent servants. Totally unimportant people." "Therefore a totally unimportant paper?" "A paper can be important only through what it makes people believe and think. What possible difference can it make what The Patriot's readers think?" "If there were enough of them?" suggested Marrineal. "No. Besides, you'll never get enough of them, in the way you're running the paper now." "Don't say 'you,' please," besought Marrineal. "I've been keeping my hands off. Watching." "And now you're going to take hold?" queried Edmonds. "Personally?" "As soon as I can find my formula--and the men to help me work it out," he added, after a pause so nicely emphasized that both his hearers had a simultaneous inkling of the reason for his being at their table. "I've seen newspapers run on formula before," muttered Edmonds. "Onto the rocks?" "Invariably." "That's because the formulas were amateur formulas, isn't it?" The veteran of a quarter-century turned a mildly quizzical smile upon the adventurer into risky waters. "Well?" he jerked out.