To Marrineal he said nothing
of this at the time; nor, indeed, to any one else. But later he took it
to a very private market of his own, the breakfast-room of a sunny and
secluded house far uptown, where lived, in an aroma of the domestic
virtues, a benevolent-looking old gentleman who combined the attributes
of the ferret, the leech, and the vulture in his capacity as editor of
that famous weekly publication, The Searchlight. Ives did not sell in
that mart; he traded for other information. This time he wanted
something about Judge Willis Enderby, for he was far enough on the
inside politically to see in him a looming figure which might stand in
the way of certain projects, unannounced as yet, but tenderly nurtured
in the ambitious breast of Tertius C. Marrineal. From the gently smiling
patriarch he received as much of the unwritten records as that authority
deemed it expedient to give him, together with an admonition, thrown in
for good measure.
"Dangerous, my young friend! Dangerous!"
The passionate and patient collector thought it highly probable that
Willis Enderby would be dangerous game. Certainly he did not intend to
hunt in those fields, unless he could contrive a weapon of overwhelming
caliber.
Ely Ives's analysis of Banneker's situation was in a measure responsible
for Marrineal's proposition of the new deal to his editor.
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