“It should, in the news columns. But editorially?”
“Comment,” said Wanser blandly. “Simple, explanatory, enlightening comment.”
“It won’t do the business. Take this tax matter—”
“A(c)h! Very unfortunate! Very unfortunate!” murmured the banker.
“Of course it’s unfortunate,” returned Jeremy warmly. “It’s unfortunate that those best able to pay taxes should get off light at the expense of those less able to pay.”
“That is not what I meant. These attacks upon property—”
“They’re not attacks on property, when property plays fair. Would a simple comment have brought old Madam Taylor to time?”
“Perhaps. Why not?”
Jeremy rubbed his nose thoughtfully. “Perhaps it would. The facts were enough just as they stood.” Madam Taylor, the daughter of the dead statesman who had founded The Guardian, was not only the richest woman in Fenchester, but was also a highly respected and considerably feared local institution. Because of that her taxes had not been raised in thirty years, though her property had quadrupled in value, until The Guardian shocked the community by running afoul of her.
“You might have so enraged her that she would have left Fenchester forever,” accused Wanser.