“Ay-ah? Well, you see, he’s gumming our game.”
“What ga—”
“The whole, dam’, slick, polite graft that makes the machine run so smooth and nice and turns out the pretty little dividends for the banks and the railroads and the big companies generally. Haven’t you seen into that millstone yet?”
“You talk as if you were really on Embree’s side.”
“Ay-ah. Why not?”
“But The Guard—”
“I’m a hired man,” said Galpin impassively.
“If you had a paper of your own—”
“Be a hired man just the same.”
“Who could boss you then?” asked Jeremy in surprise. “Same bunch that bosses The Record and The Guardian.”