The professional zest surged up again in McGuire Ellis. "My Lord!" he exclaimed. "What a paper to-morrow's 'Clarion' will be! But why? Why? Why the Neal story—now?"
"Because I can't print the epidemic spread unless I print the other. I've given my word. I told my father if ever I suppressed news for my own protection, I'd give up the fight and play the game like all the other papers. I've tried it. Mac, it isn't my game."
"No," replied his subordinate in a curious tone, "it isn't your game."
"You'll write the meeting?"
"Yes."
"Save out a column for my story."
Ellis returned to Wayne at the news desk. "Hell's broke loose at the Emergency Health meeting," he remarked, employing the conventional phrasing of his craft.
And Wayne, in the same language, inquired:
"How much?"
"Two columns. And a column from the Boss on another story."