“Afraid?”
“Politic.”
“The same thing, usually. Are you afraid of Montrose Clark?”
The lawyer reddened. “I came here as one gentleman to another—”
“With an offer of hush-money,” broke in the editor. “Come, Judge; you and I are down to hard-pan. We can dispense with bluff. However, if you don’t like the word ‘afraid’—I don’t like it much, myself, but that’s because there are so many things I’m trying not to be afraid of—I’ll take it back. Now; will you take my message to Clark, as Garson would n’t?”
“No; I will not.”
“Then I’ll have to write it to him. Or, I might print it in The Guardian, in the form of an open letter following this interview.”
“This is a confidential visit,” cried the lawyer, shocked clean out of his professional calm.
“You’ve got me there,” admitted the other. “I’ve got to play square if I put up the bluff, have n’t I, Judge? Even with you.”
“I’m damned if I understand you, young man.”