yet with things here to be of use to you
in--er--matters of business."

Faxon wheeled sharply and stared as if he had not before realised the
tall man's presence. "You'll doubtless leave that to me to discover,
won't you?" he inquired with studied insolence. Abruptly he turned again
to Roger. "Now then, may I see you--alone?"

Roger's eyes wandered from one to the other helplessly. But before he
could speak, Good came to the fore again. His jaw was set firmly and his
eyes were cold.

"See here, Mr. Faxon," he said, with characteristic disdain of subtlety,
"let's not mince matters. Jenkins and I know perfectly well what you're
here for. Wynrod doesn't. I'd suggest that we talk things over
together."

"Thanks awfully for the advice," snapped Faxon sarcastically. "But I'm
not here to see you or Mr. Jenkins. I'm here to see Mr. Wynrod. And I'm
here to see him privately--you hear--_privately_. If such a visit is not
contrary to the rules of the office, or if Mr. Wynrod is allowed to
decide such matters for himself...."

Good had kept his gaze fastened on Roger as Faxon spoke, and the flood
of colour in the young man's face at the latter's innuendo, had not been
lost on him. "You need say no more, Mr. Faxon," he interrupted
suddenly. Then he turned to Roger. "Wynrod," he said slowly, as if
measuring his words, "you know, I believe, who's boss of this paper. Act
accordingly." With a low bow to Faxon and a nod to Jenkins, who followed
him, he left the room.

"If you know who's boss," said Faxon with a sneer as the door closed,
"they apparently don't."

"Appearances are frequently deceiving," said Roger shortly.

"I hope so," snapped Faxon, his face hardening, as he drew a folded
newspaper from his pocket and threw it on the desk. "Now then, my boy,
I'd like to know the meaning of this?"

"Of what?" asked Roger quietly.

"Oh, don't stall."

"I'm not stalling."

"You mean to say you don't know?" demanded Faxon with honest
astonishment.

"You haven't seen fit as yet to tell me."

"This sentimental poppycock you've been running in _The Dispatch_ about
our strike."

"And what about it?"

Faxon's manner changed and he smiled indulgently.

"You haven't been in business very long, Roger. There are some things
you don't understand very clearly."

"Very probably."

"But there are some things, my boy, so elementary that a child could
understand them."

"In other words," said Roger coldly, "even I."

"Yes," s