was the prompt and simple reply
“All right. But at least give it to ’em well done. And cut out the printing of wild rumors as news. That doesn’t get a paper anything in the long run. None of your readers have any faith in The Patriot.”
“Does any paper have the confidence of its public?” returned Marrineal.
Touched upon a sensitive spot, Edmonds cursed briefly. “If it hasn’t, it’s because the public has a dam’-fool fad for pretending it doesn’t believe what it reads. Of course it believes it! Otherwise, how would it know who’s president, or that the market sagged yesterday? This ‘I-never-believe-what-I-read-in-the-papers’ guff makes me sick to the tips of my toes.”
“Only the man who knows newspapers from the inside can disbelieve them scientifically,” put in Banneker with a smile.
“What would _you_ do with The Patriot if you had it?” interrogated the proprietor.
“I? Oh, I’d try to make it interesting,” was the prompt and simple reply.
“How, interesting?”
For his own purposes Banneker chose to misinterpret the purport of the question. “So interesting that half a million people would have to read it.”
“You think you could do that?”
“I think it could be done.”
“Will you come with me and try it?”
“You’re offering me a place on The Patriot staff?”
“Precisely. Mr. Edmonds is joining.”
That gentleman breathed a small cloud of blue vapor into the air together with the dispassionate query: “Is that so? Hadn’t heard of it.”
“My principle in business is to determine whether I want a man or an article, and then bid a price that can’t be rejected.”
“Sound,” admitted the veteran. “Perfectly sound. But I’m not specially in need of money.”
“I’m offering you opportunity.”
“What kind?”
“Opportunity to handle big stories according to the facts as you see them. Not as you had to handle the Sippiac strike story.”