“In the hands of the Drovers’ Bank.”
“There or thereabouts. Well, I can’t just see us being editorial copy-boys for President Puff. Can you?”
“Not exactly! Yet, you know, Andy, he gave me almost the impression of being really for us.”
“Well, it’s possible, Boss; it’s just possible”—the other’s shrewd face was puckered in conjecture—“that he might consider this war thing more important than his own little interests. A man who thinks different from us on every other blooming subject under the sun might be every bit as real an American when it comes to the pinch. Ever think of that, Boss?”
“Not just that way.”
“Time enough to find out. Where the lion jumps, the jackal follows. See if Old Slippery Dana does n’t come round in the next few days.”
Come round Judge Dana did. That candid honesty of expression and demeanor which had aided him in pulling off some of his most dubious tricks was never more markedly in evidence than when he shook hands with Jeremy.
“Ever give any thought to the libel suits against you in the office of Dana & Dana?” he began.
“Some.”
“Bother you any?”