"This time," Mr. Beldeman went on, "it is not a question of money."
"Not a question of money," Maraton repeated. "You don't want to buy me?
What do you want to do, then?"
"We threaten," Mr. Beldeman pronounced calmly.
Maraton for a moment seemed puzzled.
"Threaten," he murmured thoughtfully. "Come, do I understand you properly? Is it assassination, or anything of that sort, you're talking about?" Beldeman shook his head.
"Those are methods for extreme cases," he said. "Yours is not an extreme case. We do not threaten you, Mr. Maraton, with death, but we do threaten you with the death of your reputation, the end of your career as a political power in this country, if you do not see your way clear to act as we desire."
Maraton stood, for a few seconds, perfectly still.
"You have courage, Mr. Beldeman," he remarked.
"Sir," Mr. Beldeman replied, "I have been as near death as most men. That is why I occupy my present position. I am the special agent of the greatest political power in the world. When I choose to make use of my machinery, I can kill or spare, abduct, rob, ruin—what I choose. You I only threaten. I fancy that will be enough. We have our hold upon the press of this country."
Maraton walked to the door and back again.