“Which, of course, it isn’t; being confidential,” Enderby capped the thought.  “I hear that Russell Edmonds has resigned.”

“That is true.”

“In consequence of the rejected advertisement?”

Banneker sat silent so long that his host began:  “Perhaps I shouldn’t have asked that—­”

“I’m going to tell you exactly what occurred,” said Banneker quietly, and outlined the episode of the editorial, suppressing, however, Marrineal’s covert threat as to Io and The Searchlight.  “And I haven’t resigned.  So you see what manner of man I am,” he concluded defiantly.

“You mean a coward?  I don’t think it.”

“I wish I were sure!” burst out Banneker.

“Ah?  That’s hard, when the soul doesn’t know itself.  Is it money?” The crisp, clear voice had softened to a great kindliness.  “Are you in debt, my boy?”

“No.  Yes; I am.  I’d forgotten.  That doesn’t matter.”

“Apparently not.”  The lawyer’s heavy brows went up, “More serious than money,” he commented.

Banneker recognized the light of suspicion, comprehension, confirmation in the keen and fine visage turned upon him.  Enderby continued: 

“Well, there are matters that can be talked of and other matters that can’t be talked of.  But if you ever feel that you want the advice of a man who has seen human nature on a good many sides, and has learned not to judge too harshly of it, come to me.  The only counsel I ever give gratis to those who can pay for it”—­he smiled faintly—­“is the kind that may be too valuable to sell.”

“But I’d like to know,” said Banneker slowly, “why you don’t think me a yellow dog for not resigning.”

“Because, in your heart you don’t think yourself one.  Speaking of that interesting species, I suppose you know that your principal is working for the governorship.”

“Will he get the nomination?”

“Quite possibly.  Unless I can beat him for it.  I’ll tell you privately I may be the opposing candidate.  Not that the party loves me any too much; but I’m at least respectable, fairly strong up-State, and they’ll take what they have to in order to beat Marrineal, who is forcing himself down their throats.”

“A pleasant prospect for me,” gloomed Banneker.  “I’ll have to fight you.”

“Go ahead and fight,” returned the other heartily.  “It won’t be the first time.”

“At least, I want you to know that it’ll be fair fight.”

“No ‘Junior-called-me-Bob’ trick this time?” smiled Enderby.

Banneker flushed and winced.  “No,” he answered.  “Next time I’ll be sure of my facts.  Good-night and good luck.  I hope you beat us.”

As he turned the corner into Fifth Avenue a thought struck him.  He made the round of the block, came up the side of the street opposite, and met a stroller having all the ear-marks of the private detective.  To think of a man of Judge Enderby’s character being continuously “spotted” for the mean design of an Ely Ives filled Banneker with a sick fury.  His first thought was to return and tell Enderby.  But to what purpose?  After all, what possible harm could Ives’s plotting and sneaking do to a man of the lawyer’s rectitude?  Banneker returned to The House With Three Eyes and his unceasing work.