"Have you told any one the er—tale?" demanded Brown, hoarsely. "I can prove that not a word of it is true!"
"Can you?" Enoch squared round on him. "Are you willing to risk having the story told with the idea of disproving it, afterward? Isn't your system of scandal mongering built on the idea that mud once slung always leaves a stain in the public mind? And Curly was an eye witness. He is dead, but I do not believe all the other eye witnesses are dead. At any rate—"
Brown suddenly leaned forward in his chair. "Mr. Huntingdon, I'll give you my check for $100,000, if you will give me that document and swear to keep your mouth shut."
"Your bribe is not large enough," Enoch answered tersely.
"Five hundred thousand! I'll agree to make a public retraction of everything I said about you and to work for you with all the power of my newspapers."
"Not enough!" repeated Enoch, watching Brown's white face, keenly.
"What do you want?" demanded the newspaper publisher.
"First," Enoch threw his cigarette away, "I want Secretary Fowler to break with you, absolutely and completely."
"Curly can't implicate me, in that Mexican affair!" cried Fowler.
"Why, my whole attitude was one of disapproval and disgust. I told
Brown over and over, that he was a fool and after the shooting I broke
with him, absolutely, for years. I am—"
Enoch interrupted. "Brown, was Fowler in on the trouble?"