“Isn’t that your boss toting an olive branch up the walk?” he inquired.
Iverson jumped up, and glanced where Leeds pointed. Then, with an elaborate assumption of indifference, he strolled to the foot of the steps to meet his chief. His face showed little interest, but Iverson’s face had long before ceased to be a mirror of his mind. In reality he was mightily amazed at McNew’s coming. So nonchalantly did he move that he had gained a dozen steps before any of the other newspaper men realized the situation. When they did, they tried to catch up with him without appearing to do so.
McNew, however, appeared to have no desire to make a mystery of his coming or to give any exclusive information to his own correspondent. He nodded to him indifferently; then glanced at the other men.
“Good-morning! Good-morning! Gentlemen!” he called. “What do you know?”
Clark of the Post answered him. “Don’t know a thing, Mr. McNew. What’s the news from New York?”
“Read it in the Gazette,” retorted McNew. “Is the president on view today?”
O’Laughlin of the World shook his head. “Nothing doing today,” he answered. “Cabinet day, you know, Mr. McNew!”
McNew shrugged his shoulders. “Oh! well!” he remarked. “It doesn’t matter. His secretary will do. Sorry, boys! But I haven’t a bit of news to give you. I’m here on personal business. Good-morning.”
He strove to push through the ring of newspaper men, but they closed up and stood so firm that he would have had to use some force to get away. So he laughed and stood still. “Well, boys?” he questioned.
O’Laughlin caught his eye. “Who carried the flag of truce?” he demanded.