posing-room to kill this first-page story—good as it is. 'Please kill,' you say. A term with newspaper men."
"You call yourself a newspaper man?"
"Why not? The story is killed. Another is put in its place—say, for example, an elaborate account of your daughter's wedding. And in its changed form the Mail—your newspaper—goes on the street."
"Um—and your price?"
"It is a valuable property."
"Especially valuable this morning, I take it," sneered Meyrick.
"Valuable at any time. Our presses cost a thousand. Our linotypes two thousand. And there is that other thing—so hard to estimate definitely—the wide appeal of our paper. The price—well—fifteen thousand dollars. Extremely reasonable. And I will include—the good will of the retiring management."
"You contemptible little—" began Spencer Meyrick.
"My dear sir—control yourself," pleaded Gonzale. "Or I may be unable to include the good
