"'Shall we permit these things to be so? Shall we allow the wealthy to avoid those punishments which we impose upon the poor? This means you.
"'They deem themselves already secure; but though they exhaust every device of plutocracy, they shall be brought to justice in the end.
"'We say to them, We know you, and we will find you yet.'"
"That sounds threatening," I said. "But, after all, isn't it just as empty as the rest? People read that same shriek three hundred and sixty-five days in the year, and nothing much ever happens. Do you think there will actually be any extra search because of that?"
"I'm not so sure," Mr. Tabor answered. "It may not matter to the police, but the paper itself is quite capable of seeking us out. Indeed, I think we are really most likely to have trouble, not from the authorities, but from reporters."
"That's it," Reid added. "You've put your finger on it. That's what we've got to look out for. Reporters."
"But what can they do?" asked Lady. "Suppose some reporter comes here; we won't tell him anything, and nobody else has anything to tell."
"My dear child, you haven't the slightest idea what a newspaper investigation means. If they once get a hint of who we are we shall have a dozen men and women here, questioning everybody in sight—the neighbors, the servants—trying in every possible way to get at something which can be made to look sensational, and printing conjectures if they can't find facts."
"Besides," said Doctor Reid, "the poking and prying would be just as bad as the publicity. Let's look at the case: 'Tisn't that we're trying to conceal a specific fact; we're trying to avoid gossip, trying to avoid appearing in any way unusual, trying to seem like other people. We are like other people, except—well, now, here's the situation. Three points: First, we mustn't be bothered by the police; secondly, we mustn't get into the papers; thirdly, we mustn't be investigated or talked about."
"We're tolerably safe from the first," said I, "if Mr. Tabor is right."