ly.

"Furthermore," added Faxon in the same hard tone, "the contract you now
hold with Brooks, Carpenter, Weinstein, LeVigne and all the other
members of the department store association, will not be renewed as they
expire."

"I see. And if orders are given not to run anything more along this
line, what then?"

Faxon smiled. "In that case I can inform you that the pleasant relations
that have hitherto existed between _The Dispatch_ and the large stores
of this city, will continue as before."

"You tempt me, Joe," said Wynrod in what was little more than a whisper,
but with an inscrutable look in his eyes. Then he turned and walked to
the window. A faint smile of triumph flitted over Faxon's features as he
watched the young man's back. Suddenly Wynrod turned around. "Joe," he
said, very calmly but very firmly, "you've been frank with me, and now
I'll be the same with you. There are at least half a dozen reasons why I
would like to tell you to go to hell, but there's only one necessary. If
there was anything needed to stiffen my backbone, it's supplied by the
fact that you can come here attempting to give me orders. That won't go,
Joe. You came here this morning and insisted on seeing me because you
thought you could bully me. That's why you wouldn't talk to Jenkins or
Good. But you haven't sized me up right, Joe, and you'd better run back
to Corey just as fast as you can and tell him so."

The triumphant smile faded from Faxon's face and it slowly reddened.
"That means ..."

"Anything you choose to make it," said Roger quietly.

Unexpectedly Faxon changed his tactics. With a friendly smile he jumped
to his feet. "I say, Roger, you don't understand what you're saying.
There's no threatening about it. This is just a plain business talk,
pure and simple. We're friends. What's the use of getting up on your ear
and talking like that? Do you realise what it'll mean to your paper? You
can't afford to do it. I'm not talking to you, personally, you
understand. I'm talking to you as a disinterested outsider. I'm giving
you a straight tip. I'm trying to save you from making a fool of
yourself, don't you understand?"

"I understand perfectly," said Roger. "There's nothing to be said
further, is there?"

"Come now," insisted Faxon. "Don't be a clam, Roger. Let's discuss this
thing quietly and get to the bottom of it."

"I have nothing further to say," said Roger coldly. "Have you?"

Faxon looked at him helplessly for a