"Go!" repeated Smith firmly. "I have been thinking it over for days. You cannot look me in the face, Comrade Brown, and say that there is a single feature which would not be better away. I mean in the paper, not in my face. Every one of these punk pages must disappear. Letters must be despatched at once, informing Julia Burdett Parslow and the others, and in particular B. Henderson Asher, who, on brief acquaintance, strikes me as an ideal candidate for a lethal chamber--that, unless they cease their contributions instantly, we shall call up the police reserves. Then we can begin to move." Betty, like most of his acquaintances, seldom knew whether Smith was talking seriously or not. She decided to assume, till he should dismiss the idea, that he meant what he said. "But you can't!" she exclaimed. "With your kind cooperation, nothing easier. You supply the mechanical work. I will compose the letters. First, B. Henderson Asher. 'Dear Sir'--" "But--" she fell back on her original remark--"but you can't. What will Mr. Renshaw say when he comes back?" "Sufficient unto the day. I have a suspicion that he will be the first to approve. His vacation will have made him see things differently--purified him, as it were. His conscience will be alive once more." "But--" "Why should we worry ourselves because the end of this venture is wrapped in obscurity? Why, Columbus didn't know where he was going to when he set out. All he knew was some highly interesting fact about an egg. What that was, I do not at the moment recall, but I understand it acted on Columbus like a tonic. We are the Columbuses of the journalistic world. Full steam ahead, and see what happens. If Comrade Renshaw is not pleased, why, I shall have been a martyr to a good cause. It is a far, far better thing that I do than I have ever done, so to speak. Why should I allow possible inconvenience to myself to stand in the way of the happiness which we propose to inject into those Brooklyn and Flatbush homes? Are you ready then, once more? 'Dear Sir--'" Betty gave in. When the letters were finished, she made one more objection. "They are certain to call here and make a fuss," she said, "Mr. Asher and the rest." "You think they will not bear the blow with manly fortitude?" "I certainly do. And I think it's hard on them, too. Suppose they depend for a living on what they make from _Peaceful Moments?_" "They don't," said Smith reassuringly. "I've looked into that. Have no pity for them. They are amateurs--degraded creatures of substance who take the cocktails out of the mouths of deserving professionals. B. Henderson Asher, for instance, is largely interested in gents' haberdashery. And so with the others. We touch their pride, perhaps, but not their purses." Betty's soft heart was distinctly relieved by the information. "I see," she said. "But suppose they do call, what will you do? It will be very unpleasant." Smith pondered.