“BLAKE CONSPIRES TO SWINDLE WESTVILLE;
DIRECT CAUSE OF CITY’S SICK AND DEAD.”
At that Blake collapsed into his chair and gazed with ashen face at the black, accusing letters. This relentless summary of the situation appalled them all into a moment’s silence.
Blind Charlie was the first to speak.
“That paper must never come out!” he shouted.
Blake raised his gray-hued face.
“How are you going to stop it?”
“Here’s how,” cried Peck, his one eye ablaze with fierce energy. “That crowd at the Square is still all for you, Blake. Don’t let the girl out of the house! I’ll rush to the Square, rouse the mob properly, and they’ll raid the office, rip up the presses, plates, paper, every damned thing!”
“No—no—I’ll not stand for that!” Blake burst out.
But Blind Charlie had already started quickly away. Not so quickly, however, but that the very sufficient hand of Manning was about his wrist before he reached the door.