Heat, sudden, savage1, and oppressive, bore down upon the city early that spring, smiting2 men in their offices, women in their homes, the horses between the shafts3 of their toil4, so that the city was in danger of becoming disorganized. The visitation developed into the big story of successive days. It was the sort of generalized, picturesque5 "fluff-stuff" matter which Banneker could handle better than his compeers by sheer imaginative grasp and deftness6 of presentation. Being now a writer on space, paid at the rate of eight dollars a column of from thirteen to nineteen hundred words, he found the assignment profitable and the test of skill quite to his taste. Soft job though it was in a way, however, the unrelenting pressure of the heat and the task of finding, day after day, new phases and fresh phrases in which to deal with it, made inroads upon his nerves.
He took to sleeping ill again. Io Welland had come back in all the glamorous7 panoply8 of waking dreams to command and torment9 his loneliness of spirit. At night he dreaded10 the return to the draughtless room on Grove11 Street. In the morning, rising sticky-eyed and unrested, he shrank from the thought of the humid, dusty, unkempt hurly-burly of the office. Yet his work was never more brilliant and individual.
Having finished his writing, one reeking12 midnight, he sat, spent, at his desk, hating the thought of the shut-in place that he called home. Better to spend the night on a bench in some square, as he had done often enough in the earlier days. He rose, took his hat, and had reached the first landing when the steps wavered and faded in front of him and he found himself clutching for the rail. A pair of hands gripped his shoulders and held him up.
"What's the matter, Mr. Banneker?" asked a voice.
"God!" muttered Banneker. "I wish I were back on the desert."
"You want a drink," prescribed his volunteer prop13.
As his vision and control reestablished themselves, Banneker found himself being led downstairs and to the nearest bar by young Fentriss Smith, who ordered two soda14 cocktails15.
Of Smith he knew little except that the office called him "the permanent twenty-five-dollar man." He was one of those earnest, faithful, totally uninspired reporters, who can be relied upon implicitly17 for routine news, but are constitutionally impotent to impart color and life to any subject whatsoever18. Patiently he had seen younger and newer men overtake and pass him; but he worked on inexorably, asking for nothing, wearing the air of a scholar with some distant and abstruse19 determination in view. Like Banneker he had no intimates in the office.
"The desert," echoed Smith in his quiet, well-bred voice. "Isn't it pretty hot, there, too?"
"It's open," said Banneker. "I'm smothering20 here."
"You look frazzled out, if you don't mind my saying so."
"I feel frazzled out; that's what I mind."
"Suppose you come out with me to-night as soon as I report to the desk," suggested the other.
Banneker, refreshed by the tingling21 drink, looked down at him in surprise. "Where?" he asked.
"I've got a little boat out here in the East River."
"A boat? Lord, that sounds good!" sighed Banneker.
"Does it? Then see here! Why couldn't you put in a few days with me, and cool off? I've often wanted to talk to you about the newspaper business, and get your ideas."
"But I'm newer at it than you are."
"For a fact! Just the same you've got the trick of it and I haven't. I'll go around to your place while you pack a suitcase, and we're off."
"That's very good of you." Accustomed though he was to the swift and ready comradeship of a newspaper office, Banneker was puzzled by this advance from the shy and remote Smith. "All right: if you'll let me share expenses," he said presently.
Smith seemed taken aback at this. "Just as you like," he assented22. "Though I don't quite know--We'll talk of that later."
While Banneker was packing in his room, Smith, seated on the window-sill, remarked:
"I ought to tell you that we have to go through a bad district to get there."
"The Tunnel Gang?" asked Banneker, wise in the plague spots of the city.
"Just this side of their stamping ground. It's a gang of wharf23 rats. There have been a number of hold-ups, and last week a dead woman was found under the pier24."
Banneker made an unobtrusive addition to his packing. "They'll have to move fast to catch me," he observed.
"Two of us together won't be molested25. But if you're alone, be careful. The police in that precinct are no good. They're either afraid or they stand in with the gang."
On Fifth Avenue the pair got a late-cruising taxicab whose driver, however, declined to take them nearer than one block short of the pier. "The night air in that place ain't good fer weak constitutions," he explained. "One o' my pals26 got a headache last week down on the pier from bein' beaned with a sandbag."
No one interfered27 with the two reporters, however. A whistle from the end of the pier evolved from the watery28 dimness a dinghy, which, in a hundred yards of rowing, delivered them into a small but perfectly29 appointed yacht. Banneker, looking about the luxurious31 cabin, laughed a little.
"That was a bad guess of mine about half expenses," he said good-humoredly. "I'd have to mortgage my future for a year. Do you own this craft?"
"My father does. He's been called back West."
Bells rang, the wheel began to churn, and Banneker, falling asleep in his berth32 with a vivifying breeze blowing across him, awoke in broad daylight to a view of sparkling little waves which danced across his vision to smack33 impudently34 the flanks of the speeding craft.
"We'll be in by noon," was Smith's greeting as they met on the companionway for a swim.
"What do you do it for?" asked Banneker, seated at the breakfast table, with an appetite such as he had not known for weeks.
"Do what?"
"Two men's work at twenty-five per for The Ledger35?"
"Training."
"Are you going to stick to the business?"
"The family," explained Smith, "own a newspaper in Toledo. It fell to them by accident. Our real business is manufacturing farm machinery36, and none of us has ever tried or thought of manufacturing newspapers. So they wished on me the job of learning how."
"Do you like it?"
"Not particularly. But I'm going through with it."
Banneker felt a new and surprised respect for his host. He could forecast the kind of small city newspaper that Smith would make; careful, conscientious38, regular in politics, loyal to what it deemed the best interests of the community, single-minded in its devotion to the Smith family and its properties; colorless, characterless, and without vision or leadership in all that a newspaper should, according to Banneker's opinion, stand for. So he talked with the fervor39 of an enthusiast40, a missionary41, a devotee, who saw in that daily chronicle of the news an agency to stir men's minds and spur their thoughts, if need be, to action; at the same time the mechanism42 and instrument of power, of achievement, of success. Fentriss Smith listened and was troubled in spirit by these unknown fires. He had supposed respectability to be the final aim and end of a sound newspaper tradition.
The apparent intimacy43 which had sprung up between twenty-five-dollar Smith and the reserved, almost hermit-like Banneker was the subject of curious and amused commentary in The Ledger office. Mallory hazarded a humorous guess that Banneker was tutoring Smith in the finer arts of journalism44, which was not so far amiss as its proponent45 might have supposed.
The Great Heat broke several evenings later in a drench46 of rain and wind. This, being in itself important news, kept Banneker late at his writing, and he had told his host not to wait, that he would join him on the yacht sometime about midnight. So Smith had gone on alone.
The next morning Tommy Burt, lounging into the office from an early assignment, approached the City Desk with a twinkle far back in his lively eyes.
"Hear anything of a shoot-fest up in the Bad Lands last night?" he asked.
"Not yet," replied Mr. Greenough. "They're getting to be everyday occurrences up there. Is it on the police slips, Mr. Mallory?"
"No. Nothing in that line," answered the assistant, looking over his assortment47.
"Police are probably suppressing it," opined Burt.
"Have you got the story?" queried48 Mr. Greenough.
"In outline. It isn't really my story."
"Whose is it, then?"
"That's part of it." Tommy Burt leaned against Mallory's desk and appeared to be revolving49 some delectable50 thought in his mind.
"Tommy," said Mallory, "they didn't open that committee meeting you've been attending with a corkscrew, did they?"
"I'm intoxicated51 with the chaste52 beauties of my story, which isn't mine," returned the dreamily smiling Mr. Burt. "Here it is, boiled down. Guest on an anchored yacht returning late, sober, through the mist. Wharf-gang shooting craps in a pier-shed. They size him up and go to it; six of 'em. Knives and one gun: maybe more. The old game: one asks for the time. Another sneaks53 up behind and gives the victim the elbow-garrote. The rest rush him. Well, they got as far as the garrote. Everything lovely and easy. Then Mr. Victim introduces a few specialties54. Picks a gun from somewhere around his shirt-front, shoots the garroter over his shoulder; kills the man in front, who is at him with a stiletto, ducks a couple of shots from the gang, and lays out two more of 'em. The rest take to the briny55. Tally16: two dead, one dying, one wounded, Mr. Guest walks to the shore end, meets two patrolmen, and turns in his gun. 'I've done a job for you,' says he. So they pinch him. He's in the police station, _incomunicado_."
Throughout the narrative56, Mr. Greenough had thrown in little, purring interjections of "Good! Good!"--"Yes."--"Ah! good!" At the conclusion Mallory exclaimed!
"Moses! That is a story! You say it isn't yours? Why not?"
"Because it's Banneker's."
"Why?"
"He's the guest with the gun."
Mallory jumped in his chair. "Banneker!" he exclaimed. "Oh, hell!" he added disconsolately57.
"Takes the shine out of the story, doesn't it?" observed Burt with a malicious58 smile.
One of the anomalous59 superstitions60 of newspaperdom is that nothing which happens to a reporter in the line of his work is or can be "big news." The mere61 fact that he is a reporter is enough to blight62 the story.
"What was Banneker doing down there?" queried Mr. Greenough.
"Visiting on a yacht."
"Is that so?" There was a ray of hope in the other's face. The glamour63 of yachting association might be made to cast a radiance about the event, in which the damnatory fact that the principal figure was a mere reporter could be thrown into low relief. Such is the view which journalistic snobbery64 takes of the general public's snobbery. "Whose yacht?"
Again the spiteful little smile appealed on Burt's lips as he dashed the rising hope. "Fentriss Smith's."
And again the expletive of disillusion65 burst from between Mallory's teeth as he saw the front-page double-column spread, a type-specialty66 of the usually conservative Ledger upon which it prided itself, dwindle67 to a carefully handled inside-page three-quarter of a column.
"You say that Mr. Banneker is in the police station?" asked the city editor.
"Or at headquarters. They're probably working the third degree on him."
"That won't do," declared the city desk incumbent68, with conviction. He caught up the telephone, got the paper's City Hall reporter, and was presently engaged in some polite but pointed30 suggestions to His Honor the Mayor. Shortly after, Police Headquarters called; the Chief himself was on the wire.
"The Ledger is behind Mr. Banneker, Chief," said Mr. Greenough crisply. "Carrying concealed69 weapons? If your men in that precinct were fit to be on the force, there would be no need for private citizens to go armed. You get the point, I see. Good-bye."
"Unless I am a bad guesser we'll have Banneker back here by evening. And there'll be no manhandling in his case," Mallory said to Burt.
Counsel was taken of Mr. Gordon, as soon as that astute70 managing editor arrived, as to the handling of the difficult situation. The Ledger, always cynically71 intolerant of any effort to better the city government, as savoring72 of "goo-gooism," which was its special _bete noire_, could not well make the shooting a basis for a general attack upon police laxity, though it was in this that lay the special news possibility of the event. On the other hand, the thing was far too sensational73 to be ignored or too much slurred74.
Andreas, the assistant managing editor, in charge of the paper's make-up, a true news-hound with an untainted delight in the unusual and striking, no matter what its setting might be, who had been called into the conference, advocated "smearing75 it all over the front page, with Banneker's first-hand statement for the lead--pictures too."
Him, Mr. Greenough, impassive joss of the city desk, regarded with a chill eye. "One reporter visiting another gets into a muss and shoots up some riverside toughs," he remarked contemptuously. "You can hardly expect our public to get greatly excited over that. Are we going into the business of exploiting our own cubs76?"
Thereupon there was sharp discussion to which Mr. Gordon put an end by remarking that the evening papers would doubtless give them a lead; meantime they could get Banneker's version.
First to come in was The Evening New Yorker, the most vapid77 of all the local prints, catering78 chiefly to the uptown and shopping element. Its heading half-crossed the page proclaiming "Guest of Yachtsman Shoots Down Thugs." Nowhere in the article did it appear that Banneker had any connection with the newspaper world. He was made to appear as a young Westerner on a visit to the yacht of a millionaire business man, having come on from his ranch79 in the desert, and presumptively--to add the touch of godhead--a millionaire himself.
"The stinking80 liars81!" said Andreas.
"That settles it," declared Mr. Gordon. "We'll give the facts plainly and without sensationalism; but all the facts."
"Including Mr. Banneker's connection here?" inquired Mr. Greenough.
"Certainly."
The other evening papers, more honest than The Evening New Yorker, admitted, though, as it were, regretfully and in an inconspicuous finale to their accounts that the central figure of the sensation was only a reporter. But the fact of his being guest on a yacht was magnified and glorified83.
At five o'clock Banneker arrived, having been bailed84 out after some difficulty, for the police were frightened and ugly, foreseeing that this swift vengeance85 upon the notorious gang, meted86 out by a private hand, would throw a vivid light upon their own inefficiency87 and complaisance88. Happily the District Attorney's office was engaged in one of its periodical feuds89 with the Police Department over some matter of graft90 gone astray, and was more inclined to make a cat's-paw than a victim out of Banneker.
Though inwardly strung to a high pitch, for the police officials had kept him sleepless91 through the night by their habitual92 inquisition, Banneker held himself well in hand as he went to the City Desk to report gravely that he had been unable to come earlier.
"So we understand, Mr. Banneker," said Mr. Greenough, his placid93 features for once enlivened. "That was a good job you did. I congratulate you."
"Thank you, Mr. Greenough," returned Banneker. "I had to do it or get done. And, at that, it wasn't much of a trick. They were a yellow lot."
"Very likely: very likely. You've handled a gun before."
"Only in practice."
"Ever shot anybody before?"
"No, sir."
"How does it feel?" inquired the city editor, turning his pale eyes on the other and fussing nervously94 with his fingers.
"At first you want to go on killing," answered Banneker. "Then, when it's over, there's a big let-down. It doesn't seem as if it were you." He paused and added boyishly: "The evening papers are making an awful fuss over it."
"What do you expect? It isn't every day that a Wild West Show with real bullets and blood is staged in this effete95 town."
"Of course I knew there'd be a kick-up about it," admitted Banneker. "But, some way--well, in the West, if a gang gets shot up, there's quite a bit of talk for a while, and the boys want to buy the drinks for the fellow that does it, but it doesn't spread all over the front pages. I suppose I still have something of the Western view.... How much did you want of this, Mr. Greenough?" he concluded in a business-like tone.
"You are not doing the story, Mr. Banneker. Tommy Burt is."
"I'm not writing it? Not any of it?"
"Certainly not. You're the hero"--there was a hint of elongation of the first syllable96 which might have a sardonic97 connotation from those pale and placid lips--"not the historian. Burt will interview you."
"A Patriot98 reporter has already. I gave him a statement."
Mr. Greenough frowned. "It would have been as well to have waited. However."
"Oh, Banneker," put in Mallory, "Judge Enderby wants you to call at his office."
"Who's Judge Enderby?"
"Chief Googler of the Goo-Goos; the Law Enforcement Society lot. They call him the ablest honest lawyer in New York. He's an old crab99. Hates the newspapers, particularly us."
"Why?"
"He cherishes some theory," said Mr. Greenough in his most toneless voice, "that a newspaper ought to be conducted solely100 in the interests of people like himself."
"Is there any reason why I should go chasing around to see him?"
"That's as you choose. He doesn't see reporters often. Perhaps it would be as well."
"His outfit101 are after the police," explained Mallory. "That's what he wants you for. It's part of their political game. Always politics."
"Well, he can wait until to-morrow, I suppose," remarked Banneker indifferently.
Greenough examined him with impenetrable gaze. This was a very cavalier attitude toward Judge Willis Enderby. For Enderby was a man of real power. He might easily have been the most munificently102 paid corporation attorney in the country but for the various kinds of business which he would not, in his own homely103 phrase, "poke104 at with a burnt stick." Notwithstanding his prejudices, he was confidential105 legal adviser106, in personal and family affairs, to a considerable percentage of the important men and women of New York. He was supposed to be the only man who could handle that bull-elephant of finance, ruler of Wall Street, and, when he chose to give it his contemptuous attention, dictator, through his son and daughters, of the club and social world of New York, old Poultney Masters, in the apoplectic107 rages into which the slightest thwart108 to his will plunged109 him. To Enderby's adroitness110 the financier (one of whose pet vanities was a profound and wholly baseless faith in himself as a connoisseur111 of art) owed it that he had not become a laughing-stock through his purchase of a pair of particularly flagrant Murillos, planted for his special behoof by a gang of clever Italian swindlers. Rumor112 had it that when Enderby had privately113 summed up his client's case for his client's benefit before his client as referee114, in these words: "And, Mr. Masters, if you act again in these matters without consulting me, you must find another lawyer; I cannot afford fools for clients"--they had to call in a physician and resort to the ancient expedient115 of bleeding, to save the great man's cerebral116 arteries117 from bursting.
Toward the public press, Enderby's attitude was the exact reverse of Horace Vanney's. For himself, he unaffectedly disliked and despised publicity118; for the interests which he represented, he delegated it to others. He would rarely be interviewed; his attitude toward the newspapers was consistently repellent. Consequently his infrequent utterances119 were treasured as pearls, and given a prominence120 far above those of the too eager and over-friendly Mr. Vanney, who, incidentally, was his associate on the directorate of the Law Enforcement Society. The newspapers did not like Willis Enderby any more than he liked them. But they cherished for him an unrequited respect.
That a reporter, a nobody of yesterday whose association with The Ledger constituted his only claim to any status whatever, should profess121 indifference122 to a summons from a man of Enderby's position, suggested affectation to Mr. Greenough's suspicions. Young Mr. Banneker's head was already swelling123, was it? Very well; in the course of time and his duties, Mr. Greenough would apply suitable remedies.
If Banneker were, indeed, taking a good conceit124 of himself from the conspicuous82 position achieved so unexpectedly, the morning papers did nothing to allay125 it. Most of them slurred over, as lightly as possible, the fact of his journalistic connection; as in the evening editions, the yacht feature was kept to the fore37. There were two exceptions. The Ledger itself, in a colorless and straightforward126 article, frankly127 identified the hero of the episode, in the introductory sentence, as a member of its city staff, and his host of the yacht as another journalist. But there was one notable omission128 about which Banneker determined129 to ask Tommy Burt as soon as he could see him. The Patriot, most sensational of the morning issues, splurged wildly under the caption130, "Yacht Guest Cleans Out Gang Which Cowed Police." The Sphere, in an editorial, demanded a sweeping131 and honest investigation132 of the conditions which made life unsafe in the greatest of cities. The Sphere was always demanding sweeping and honest investigations133, and not infrequently getting them. In Greenough's opinion this undesirable134 result was likely to be achieved now. To Mr. Gordon he said:
"We ought to shut down all we can on the Banneker follow-up. An investigation with our man as prosecuting135 witness would put us in the position of trying to reform the police, and would play into the hands of the Enderby crowd."
The managing editor shook a wise and grizzled head. "If The Patriot keeps up its whooping136 and The Sphere its demanding, the administration will have to do something. After all, Mr. Greenough, things have become pretty unendurable in the Murder Precinct."
"That's true. But the signed statement of Banneker's in The Patriot--it's really an interview faked up as a statement--is a savage attack on the whole administration."
"I understand," remarked Mr. Gordon, "that they were going to beat him up scientifically in the station house when Smith came in and scared them out of it."
"Yes. Banneker is pretty angry over it. You can't blame him. But that's no reason why we should alienate137 the city administration.... Then you think, Mr. Gordon, that we'll have to keep the story running?"
"I think, Mr. Greenough, that we'll have to give the news," answered the managing editor austerely138. "Where is Banneker now?"
"With Judge Enderby, I believe. In case of an investigation he won't be much use to us until it's over."
"Can't be helped," returned Mr. Gordon serenely139. "We'll stand by our man."
Banneker had gone to the old-fashioned offices of Enderby and Enderby, in a somewhat inimical frame of mind. Expectant of an invitation to aid the Law Enforcement Society in cleaning up a pest-hole of crime, he was half determined to have as little to do with it as possible. Overnight consideration had developed in him the theory that the function of a newspaper is informative140, not reformative; that when a newspaper man has correctly adduced and frankly presented the facts, his social as well as his professional duty is done. Others might hew141 out the trail thus blazed; the reporter, bearing his searchlight, should pass on to other dark spots. All his theories evaporated as soon as he confronted Judge Enderby, forgotten in the interest inspired by the man.
A portrait painter once said of Willis Enderby that his face was that of a saint, illumined, not by inspiration, but by shrewdness. With his sensitiveness to beauty of whatever kind, Banneker felt the extraordinary quality of the face, beneath its grim outline, interpreting it from the still depth of the quiet eyes rather than from the stern mouth and rather tyrannous nose. He was prepared for an abrupt142 and cold manner, and was surprised when the lawyer rose to shake hands, giving him a greeting of courtly congratulation upon his courage and readiness. If the purpose of this was to get Banneker to expand, as he suspected, it failed. The visitor sensed the cold reserve behind the smile.
"Would you be good enough to run through this document?" requested the lawyer, motioning Banneker to a seat opposite himself, and handing him a brief synopsis143 of what the Law Enforcement Society hoped to prove regarding police laxity.
Exercising that double faculty144 of mind which later became a part of the Banneker legend in New York journalism, the reader, whilst absorbing the main and quite simple points of the report, recalled an instance in which an Atkinson and St. Philip ticket agent had been maneuvered145 into a posture146 facing a dazzling sunset, and had adjusted his vision to find it focused upon the barrel of a 45. Without suspecting the Judge of hold-up designs, he nevertheless developed a parallel. Leaving his chair he walked over and sat by the window. Halfway147 through the document, he quietly laid it aside and returned the lawyer's studious regard.
"Have you finished?" asked Judge Enderby.
"No."
"You do not find it interesting?"
"Less interesting than your idea in giving it to me."
"What do you conceive that to have been?"
By way of reply, Banneker cited the case of Tim Lake, the robbed agent. "I think," he added with a half smile, "that you and I will do better in the open."
"I think so, too. Mr. Banneker, are you honest?"
"Where I came from, that would be regarded as a trouble-hunter's question."
"I ask you to regard it as important and take it without offense148."
"I don't know about that," returned Banneker gravely. "We'll see. Honest, you say. Are you?"
"Yes."
"Then why do you begin by doubting the honesty of a stranger against whom you know nothing?"
"Legal habit, I dare say. Fortified149, in this case, by your association with The Ledger."
"You haven't a high opinion of my paper?"
"The very highest, of its adroitness and expertness. It can make the better cause appear the worse with more skill than any other journal in America."
"I thought that was the specialty of lawyers."
Judge Enderby accepted the touch with a smile.
"A lawyer is an avowed150 special pleader. He represents one side. A newspaper is supposed to be without bias151 and to present the facts for the information of its one client, the public. You will readily appreciate the difference."
"I do. Then you don't consider The Ledger honest."
Judge Enderby's composed glance settled upon the morning's issue, spread upon his desk. "I have, I assume, the same opinion of The Ledger's honesty that you have."
"Do you mind explaining that to me quite simply, so that I shall be sure to understand it?" invited Banneker.
"You have read the article about your exploit?"
"Yes."
"Is that honest?"
"It is as accurate a job as I've ever known done."
"Granted. Is it honest?"
"I don't know," answered the other after a pause. "I intend to find out."
"You intend to find out why it is so reticent152 on every point that might impugn153 the police, I take it. I could tell you; but yours is the better way. You gave the same interview to your own paper that you gave to The Patriot, I assume. By the way, what a commentary on journalism that the most scurrilous154 sheet in New York should have given the fullest and frankest treatment to the subject; a paper written by the dregs of Park Row for the reading of race-track touts155 and ignorant servant girls!"
"Yes; I gave them the same interview. It may have been crowded out--"
"For lack of space," supplied Enderby in a tone which the other heartily156 disliked. "Mr. Banneker, I thought that this was to be in the open."
"I'm wrong," confessed the other. "I'll know by this evening why the police part was handled that way, and if it was policy--" He stopped, considering.
"Well?" prompted the other.
"I'll go through to the finish with your committee."
"You're as good as pledged," retorted the lawyer. "I shall expect to hear from you."
As soon as he could find Tommy Burt, Banneker put to him the direct question. "What is the matter with the story as I gave it to you?"
Burt assumed an air of touching157 innocence158. "The story had to be handled with great care," he explained blandly159.
"Come off, Tommy. Didn't you write the police part?"
Tommy Burl's eyes denoted the extreme of candor160. "It was suggested to me that your views upon the police, while interesting and even important, might be misunderstood."
"Is _that_ so? And who made the suggestion?"
"An all-wise city desk."
"Thank you. Tommy."
"The Morning Ledger," volunteered Tommy Burt, "has a high and well-merited reputation for its fidelity161 to the principles of truth and fairness and to the best interests of the reading public. It never gives the public any news to play with that it thinks the dear little thing ought not to have. Did you say anything? No? Well; you meant it. You're wrong. The Ledger is the highest-class newspaper in New York. We are the Elect!"
In his first revulsion of anger, Banneker was for going to Mr. Greenough and having it out with him. If it meant his resignation, very good. He was ready to look his job in the eye and tell it to go to hell. Turning the matter over in his mind, however, he decided162 upon another course. So far as the sensational episode of which he was the central figure went, he would regard himself consistently as a private citizen with no responsibility whatsoever to The Ledger. Let the paper print or suppress what it chose; his attitude toward it would be identical with his attitude toward the other papers. Probably the office powers would heartily disapprove163 of his having any dealings with Enderby and his Law Enforcement Society. Let them! He telephoned a brief but final message to Enderby and Enderby. When, late that night, Mr. Gordon called him over and suggested that it was highly desirable to let the whole affair drop out of public notice as soon as the startling facts would permit, he replied that Judge Enderby had already arranged to push an investigation.
"Doubtless," observed the managing editor. "It is his specialty. But without your evidence they can't go far."
"They can have my evidence."
Mr. Gordon, who had been delicately balancing his letter-opener, now delivered a whack164 of such unthinking ferocity upon his fat knuckle165 as to produce a sharp pang166. He gazed in surprise and reproach upon the aching thumb and something of those emotions informed the regard which he turned slowly upon Banneker.
Mr. Gordon's frame of mind was unenviable. The Inside Room, moved by esoteric considerations, political and, more remotely, financial, had issued to him a managerial ukase; no police investigation if it could be avoided. Now, news was the guise167 in which Mr. Gordon sincerely worshiped Truth, the God. But Mammon, in the Inside Room, held the purse-strings Mr. Gordon had arrived at his honorable and well-paid position, not by wisdom alone, but also by compromise. Here was a situation where news must give way to the more essential interests of the paper.
"Mr. Banneker," he said, "that investigation will take a great deal of your time; more, I fear, than the paper can afford to give you."
"They will arrange to put me on the stand in the mornings."
"Further, any connection between a Ledger man and the Enderby Committee is undesirable and injudicious."
"I'm sorry," answered Banneker simply. "I've said I'd go through with it."
Mr. Gordon selected a fresh knuckle for his modified drumming. "Have you considered your duty to the paper, Mr. Banneker? If not, I advise you to do so." The careful manner, more than the words, implied threat.
Banneker leaned forward as if for a confidential communication, as he lapsed168 into a gross Westernism:
"Mr. Gordon, _I_ am paying for this round of drinks."
Somehow the managing editor received the impression that this remark, delivered in just that tone of voice and in its own proper environment, was usually accompanied by a smooth motion of the hand toward the pistol holster.
Banneker, after asking whether there was anything more, and receiving a displeased169 shake of the head, went away.
"Now," said he to the waiting Tommy Burt, "they'll probably fire me."
"Let 'em! You can get plenty of other jobs. But I don't think they will. Old Gordon is really with you. It makes him sick to have to doctor news."
Sleepless until almost morning, Banneker reviewed in smallest detail his decision and the situation to which it had led. He thought that he had taken the right course. He felt that Miss Camilla would approve. Judge Enderby's personality, he recognized, had exerted some influence upon his decision. He had conceived for the lawyer an instinctive170 respect and liking171. There was about him a power of attraction, not readily definable, but seeming mysteriously to assert some hidden claim from the past.
Where had he seen that fine and still face before?
收听单词发音 |
1
savage
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| adj.野蛮的；凶恶的，残暴的；n.未开化的人 | |
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smiting
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| v.猛打，重击，打击( smite的现在分词 ) | |
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shafts
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| n.轴( shaft的名词复数 )；（箭、高尔夫球棒等的）杆；通风井；一阵（疼痛、害怕等） | |
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toil
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| vi.辛劳工作，艰难地行动；n.苦工，难事 | |
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picturesque
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| adj.美丽如画的，（语言）生动的，绘声绘色的 | |
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deftness
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glamorous
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| adj.富有魅力的；美丽动人的；令人向往的 | |
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panoply
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| n.全副甲胄，礼服 | |
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torment
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| n.折磨；令人痛苦的东西(人)；vt.折磨；纠缠 | |
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dreaded
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| adj.令人畏惧的；害怕的v.害怕，恐惧，担心( dread的过去式和过去分词) | |
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grove
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| n.林子，小树林，园林 | |
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reeking
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| v.发出浓烈的臭气( reek的现在分词 )；散发臭气；发出难闻的气味 (of sth)；明显带有（令人不快或生疑的跡象） | |
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prop
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| vt.支撑；n.支柱，支撑物；支持者，靠山 | |
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soda
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| n.苏打水；汽水 | |
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cocktails
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| n.鸡尾酒( cocktail的名词复数 )；餐前开胃菜；混合物 | |
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tally
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| n.计数器，记分，一致，测量；vt.计算，记录，使一致；vi.计算，记分，一致 | |
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implicitly
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| adv. 含蓄地, 暗中地, 毫不保留地 | |
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whatsoever
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| adv.（用于否定句中以加强语气）任何；pron.无论什么 | |
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19
abstruse
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| adj.深奥的，难解的 | |
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smothering
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| （使）窒息， （使）透不过气( smother的现在分词 )； 覆盖； 忍住； 抑制 | |
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tingling
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| v.有刺痛感( tingle的现在分词 ) | |
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assented
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| 同意，赞成( assent的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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wharf
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| n.码头，停泊处 | |
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pier
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| n.码头；桥墩，桥柱；[建]窗间壁，支柱 | |
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25
molested
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| v.骚扰( molest的过去式和过去分词 )；干扰；调戏；猥亵 | |
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pals
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| n.朋友( pal的名词复数 )；老兄；小子；（对男子的不友好的称呼）家伙 | |
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interfered
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| v.干预( interfere的过去式和过去分词 )；调停；妨碍；干涉 | |
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watery
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| adj.有水的，水汪汪的；湿的，湿润的 | |
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perfectly
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| adv.完美地，无可非议地，彻底地 | |
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pointed
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| adj.尖的，直截了当的 | |
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luxurious
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| adj.精美而昂贵的；豪华的 | |
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32
berth
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| n.卧铺，停泊地，锚位；v.使停泊 | |
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33
smack
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| vt.拍，打，掴；咂嘴；vi.含有…意味；n.拍 | |
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34
impudently
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35
ledger
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| n.总帐，分类帐；帐簿 | |
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36
machinery
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| n.(总称)机械，机器；机构 | |
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37
fore
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| adv.在前面；adj.先前的；在前部的；n.前部 | |
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conscientious
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| adj.审慎正直的，认真的，本着良心的 | |
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fervor
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| n.热诚；热心；炽热 | |
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40
enthusiast
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| n.热心人，热衷者 | |
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missionary
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| adj.教会的，传教(士)的；n.传教士 | |
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42
mechanism
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| n.机械装置；机构，结构 | |
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43
intimacy
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| n.熟悉，亲密，密切关系，亲昵的言行 | |
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44
journalism
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| n.新闻工作，报业 | |
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45
proponent
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| n.建议者；支持者；adj.建议的 | |
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46
drench
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| v.使淋透，使湿透 | |
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47
assortment
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| n.分类，各色俱备之物，聚集 | |
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48
queried
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| v.质疑，对…表示疑问( query的过去式和过去分词 )；询问 | |
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49
revolving
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| adj.旋转的，轮转式的；循环的v.（使）旋转( revolve的现在分词 )；细想 | |
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50
delectable
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| adj.使人愉快的；美味的 | |
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51
intoxicated
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| 喝醉的，极其兴奋的 | |
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52
chaste
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| adj.贞洁的；有道德的；善良的；简朴的 | |
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53
sneaks
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| abbr.sneakers (tennis shoes) 胶底运动鞋（网球鞋）v.潜行( sneak的第三人称单数 )；偷偷溜走；（儿童向成人）打小报告；告状 | |
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54
specialties
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| n.专门，特性，特别；专业( specialty的名词复数 )；特性；特制品；盖印的契约 | |
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55
briny
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| adj.盐水的；很咸的；n.海洋 | |
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56
narrative
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| n.叙述，故事；adj.叙事的，故事体的 | |
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57
disconsolately
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| adv.悲伤地，愁闷地；哭丧着脸 | |
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58
malicious
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| adj.有恶意的，心怀恶意的 | |
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59
anomalous
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| adj.反常的；不规则的 | |
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60
superstitions
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| 迷信，迷信行为( superstition的名词复数 ) | |
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61
mere
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| adj.纯粹的；仅仅，只不过 | |
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62
blight
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| n.枯萎病；造成破坏的因素；vt.破坏，摧残 | |
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63
glamour
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| n.魔力，魅力；vt.迷住 | |
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64
snobbery
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| n. 充绅士气派, 俗不可耐的性格 | |
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65
disillusion
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| vt.使不再抱幻想，使理想破灭 | |
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66
specialty
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| n.(speciality)特性，特质；专业，专长 | |
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67
dwindle
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| v.逐渐变小（或减少） | |
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68
incumbent
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| adj.成为责任的，有义务的；现任的，在职的 | |
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69
concealed
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| a.隐藏的，隐蔽的 | |
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70
astute
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| adj.机敏的，精明的 | |
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71
cynically
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| adv.爱嘲笑地，冷笑地 | |
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72
savoring
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| v.意味，带有…的性质( savor的现在分词 )；给…加调味品；使有风味；品尝 | |
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73
sensational
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| adj.使人感动的，非常好的，轰动的，耸人听闻的 | |
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74
slurred
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| 含糊地说出( slur的过去式和过去分词 )； 含糊地发…的声； 侮辱； 连唱 | |
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75
smearing
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| 污点，拖尾效应 | |
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76
cubs
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| n.幼小的兽，不懂规矩的年轻人( cub的名词复数 ) | |
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77
vapid
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| adj.无味的；无生气的 | |
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78
catering
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| n. 给养 | |
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79
ranch
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| n.大牧场，大农场 | |
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80
stinking
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| adj.臭的，烂醉的，讨厌的v.散发出恶臭( stink的现在分词 )；发臭味；名声臭；糟透 | |
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81
liars
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| 说谎者( liar的名词复数 ) | |
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82
conspicuous
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| adj.明眼的，惹人注目的；炫耀的，摆阔气的 | |
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83
glorified
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| 美其名的，变荣耀的 | |
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84
bailed
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| 保释，帮助脱离困境( bail的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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85
vengeance
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| n.报复，报仇，复仇 | |
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86
meted
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| v.（对某人）施以，给予（处罚等）( mete的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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87
inefficiency
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| n.无效率，无能；无效率事例 | |
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88
complaisance
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| n.彬彬有礼，殷勤，柔顺 | |
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89
feuds
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| n.长期不和，世仇( feud的名词复数 ) | |
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90
graft
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| n.移植，嫁接，艰苦工作，贪污；v.移植，嫁接 | |
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91
sleepless
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| adj.不睡眠的，睡不著的，不休息的 | |
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92
habitual
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| adj.习惯性的；通常的，惯常的 | |
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93
placid
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| adj.安静的，平和的 | |
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94
nervously
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| adv.神情激动地，不安地 | |
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95
effete
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| adj.无生产力的，虚弱的 | |
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96
syllable
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| n.音节；vt.分音节 | |
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97
sardonic
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| adj.嘲笑的，冷笑的，讥讽的 | |
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98
patriot
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| n.爱国者，爱国主义者 | |
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99
crab
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| n.螃蟹，偏航，脾气乖戾的人，酸苹果；vi.捕蟹，偏航，发牢骚；vt.使偏航，发脾气 | |
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100
solely
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| adv.仅仅，唯一地 | |
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101
outfit
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| n.（为特殊用途的）全套装备，全套服装 | |
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102
munificently
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103
homely
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| adj.家常的，简朴的；不漂亮的 | |
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104
poke
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| n.刺，戳，袋；vt.拨开，刺，戳；vi.戳，刺，捅，搜索，伸出，行动散慢 | |
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105
confidential
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| adj.秘（机）密的，表示信任的，担任机密工作的 | |
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106
adviser
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| n.劝告者，顾问 | |
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107
apoplectic
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| adj.中风的；愤怒的；n.中风患者 | |
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108
thwart
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| v.阻挠，妨碍，反对；adj.横(断的) | |
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109
plunged
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| v.颠簸( plunge的过去式和过去分词 )；暴跌；骤降；突降 | |
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110
adroitness
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111
connoisseur
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| n.鉴赏家，行家，内行 | |
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112
rumor
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| n.谣言，谣传，传说 | |
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113
privately
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| adv.以私人的身份，悄悄地，私下地 | |
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114
referee
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| n.裁判员．仲裁人，代表人，鉴定人 | |
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115
expedient
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| adj.有用的，有利的；n.紧急的办法，权宜之计 | |
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116
cerebral
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| adj.脑的，大脑的；有智力的，理智型的 | |
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117
arteries
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| n.动脉( artery的名词复数 )；干线，要道 | |
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118
publicity
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| n.众所周知，闻名；宣传，广告 | |
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119
utterances
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| n.发声( utterance的名词复数 )；说话方式；语调；言论 | |
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120
prominence
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| n.突出；显著；杰出；重要 | |
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121
profess
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| v.声称，冒称，以...为业，正式接受入教，表明信仰 | |
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122
indifference
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| n.不感兴趣，不关心，冷淡，不在乎 | |
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123
swelling
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| n.肿胀 | |
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124
conceit
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| n.自负，自高自大 | |
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125
allay
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| v.消除，减轻(恐惧、怀疑等) | |
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126
straightforward
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| adj.正直的，坦率的；易懂的，简单的 | |
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frankly
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| adv.坦白地，直率地；坦率地说 | |
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omission
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| n.省略，删节；遗漏或省略的事物，冗长 | |
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determined
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| adj.坚定的；有决心的 | |
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caption
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| n.说明，字幕，标题；v.加上标题，加上说明 | |
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131
sweeping
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| adj.范围广大的，一扫无遗的 | |
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investigation
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| n.调查，调查研究 | |
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investigations
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| （正式的）调查( investigation的名词复数 )； 侦查； 科学研究； 学术研究 | |
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134
undesirable
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| adj.不受欢迎的，不良的，不合意的，讨厌的；n.不受欢迎的人，不良分子 | |
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prosecuting
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| 检举、告发某人( prosecute的现在分词 )； 对某人提起公诉； 继续从事（某事物）； 担任控方律师 | |
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136
whooping
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| 发嗬嗬声的，发咳声的 | |
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137
alienate
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| vt.使疏远，离间；转让(财产等) | |
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austerely
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| adv.严格地，朴质地 | |
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serenely
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| adv.安详地，宁静地，平静地 | |
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140
informative
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| adj.提供资料的，增进知识的 | |
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141
hew
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| v.砍；伐；削 | |
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abrupt
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| adj.突然的，意外的；唐突的，鲁莽的 | |
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synopsis
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| n.提要，梗概 | |
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faculty
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| n.才能；学院，系；(学院或系的)全体教学人员 | |
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maneuvered
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| v.移动，用策略( maneuver的过去式和过去分词 )；操纵 | |
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posture
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| n.姿势，姿态，心态，态度；v.作出某种姿势 | |
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halfway
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| adj.中途的，不彻底的，部分的；adv.半路地，在中途，在半途 | |
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148
offense
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| n.犯规，违法行为；冒犯，得罪 | |
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149
fortified
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| adj. 加强的 | |
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150
avowed
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| adj.公开声明的，承认的v.公开声明，承认( avow的过去式和过去分词) | |
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bias
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| n.偏见，偏心，偏袒；vt.使有偏见 | |
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reticent
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| adj.沉默寡言的；言不如意的 | |
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153
impugn
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| v.指责，对…表示怀疑 | |
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154
scurrilous
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| adj.下流的，恶意诽谤的 | |
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155
touts
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| n.招徕( tout的名词复数 )；（音乐会、体育比赛等的）卖高价票的人；侦查者；探听赛马的情报v.兜售( tout的第三人称单数 )；招揽；侦查；探听赛马情报 | |
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156
heartily
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| adv.衷心地，诚恳地，十分，很 | |
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157
touching
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| adj.动人的，使人感伤的 | |
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158
innocence
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| n.无罪；天真；无害 | |
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159
blandly
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| adv.温和地，殷勤地 | |
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candor
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| n.坦白，率真 | |
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161
fidelity
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| n.忠诚，忠实；精确 | |
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decided
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| adj.决定了的，坚决的；明显的，明确的 | |
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disapprove
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| v.不赞成，不同意，不批准 | |
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whack
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| v.敲击，重打，瓜分；n.重击，重打，尝试，一份 | |
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knuckle
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| n.指节；vi.开始努力工作；屈服，认输 | |
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pang
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| n.剧痛，悲痛，苦闷 | |
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guise
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| n.外表，伪装的姿态 | |
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168
lapsed
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| adj.流失的，堕落的v.退步( lapse的过去式和过去分词 )；陷入；倒退；丧失 | |
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169
displeased
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| a.不快的 | |
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170
instinctive
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| adj.(出于)本能的；直觉的；(出于)天性的 | |
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liking
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| n.爱好；嗜好；喜欢 | |
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