"You don't know what I am in this city." Every word of the great man's voice rang with the ruthless arrogance of his power. "I can make or mar any man or any business. I've fought the demagogues of labor and driven 'em out of town. I've fought the demagogues of politics and killed them off. And you think with your little spewing demagoguery of newspaper filth, you can override me? You think because you've got your father's quack millions behind you, that you can stand up to me?" "Take that down, Mr. Denton." "I've got it." "Then take this, too," cried Elias M. Pierce, losing all control, under the quiet remorselessness of this goading: "people like my daughter and me aren't at the mercy of scum like you. We've got rights that aren't responsible to every little petty law. By God, I've made and unmade judges in this town: and I'll show you what the law can do before I'm through with you. I'll gut your damned paper." "Not missing anything, are you, Mr. Denton?" "I've got it all." Throughout, Douglas, with a strained face, had been plucking at his principal's arm. Now Elias M. Pierce turned to him. "Go to Judge Ransome," he said sharply, "and get an injunction against the 'Clarion.'" McGuire Ellis sauntered over. "I wouldn't," he drawled. "I'm not asking your advice." "And I'm not looking for gratitude. But just let me suggest this: Ransome may be one of the judges you brag of owning. But if he grants an injunction I'll advise Mr. Surtaine to publish a spread on the front page, stating that we have the facts, that we're enjoined from printing them at present, but that now or a year from now we'll tell the whole story in every phase. With that hanging over him, I don't believe Judge Ransome will care to issue any fake injunction." "There's such a thing as contempt of court," warned Douglas. "Making and unmaking judges, for example?" suggested Ellis. "Just one final word to you." The Pierce face was thrust close to Hal's. "You keep your hands off my daughter if you expect to live in this town." "My one regret for Miss Pierce is that she is your daughter," retorted Hal. "You have given me the material for a leading editorial in to-morrow's issue. I recommend you to buy the paper." The other glared at him speechless. "It will be called," said Hal, "'A Study in Heredity.' Good-day." And he gave the retiring magnate a full view of his back as he sat down to write it. CHAPTER XVI THE STRATEGIST "Never write with a hot pen." Thus runs one of McGuire Ellis's golden rules of journalism. Had his employer better comprehended, in those early days, the Ellisonian philosophy, perhaps the "Heredity" editorial might never have appeared. Now, as it lay before him in proof, it seemed but the natural expression of a righteous wrath.