“As good as his bond. Naturally. I was merely thinking of such a letter not necessarily as a guarantee of good faith, but for publication.”
A thin, gray veil appeared to draw itself across Mr. Garson’s countenance, out of which his eyes stared with an aspect of surprise and fright. This animal had claws! “For publication?” he gasped.
“That’s it. You don’t think he’d do it? Well, he’s wise—to that extent, anyway. Now, you go back and tell Clark that when we open up for bribes we’ll take cash—and publish the news in the paper.”
“What did you do to little Eddie Garson?” asked Andrew Galpin, coming in a moment later. “I just met him in the hall.”
Jeremy explained.
“You’re a rude thing!” grinned the general manager. “What’s your idea in going up against the P.-U.?”
“Partly personal,” confessed Jeremy. “That puffy Clark thing rasps my nerves. Anyway, I don’t like the P.-U. methods, public or private, and I’m not going to stand any bulldozing.”
“Going to fight?”
“If it comes to that.”
“Know what it’ll cost us?”