Paul and the Printing Press Part 19

"All right, sir."

Paul moved awkwardly toward the door. He wanted to add some word to conceal how worried, angry, and upset he really was, but he could think of nothing to say. It was ignominious to pa.s.s out of the room as if he were a whipped puppy. Men always terminated their business talks pleasantly, no matter how vexed they were with one another underneath.

He must show Mr. Carter that he also could close an interview in true man's fashion. His hand was on the k.n.o.b of the door now; but he turned.

"Oh, by the way, Mr. Carter," he said with an off-hand air, "do you know where a person goes to sell a Liberty Bond?"

It was the only topic of conversation he could think of.

"Sell one?"

"Yes, sir." The boy blushed.

"In need of cash?"

"I--yes; I'm thinking of getting rid of a fifty-dollar bond I have."

"That's foolish. You'd much better keep it."

Paul shook his head with sudden resolve.

"I think if I can get rid of it without too much red tape, I'll let it go."

"Want the money badly, eh?"

"Y--e--s."

"Your father know you are selling out?"

"No, sir."

The boy began to regret that he had spoken.

"Oh--ho! So you're in a sc.r.a.pe, eh?"

"No, it's not a sc.r.a.pe," protested Paul. "At least, not what you'd commonly call a sc.r.a.pe. It is just that--"

"That you do not want to tell your father."

"Not now."

Mr. Carter winked.

"I see," he said.

He went to a drawer in his desk and innocently Paul watched his movements, wondering what he was going to do. Give him an address where he could sell his bond, no doubt.

Instead Mr. Carter slipped a crisp bill from a roll in the drawer and held it toward him.

[Ill.u.s.tration: "But I can't take your money, Mr. Carter," gasped Paul.

_Page 137._]

"I'll advance you fifty dollars on your bond," he said, "and no questions asked. I was a boy once myself."

"But I can't take your money, Mr. Carter," gasped Paul, trying to hand the crackling bit of paper back again.

"Pooh, pooh! Nonsense!" the man e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed, waving him off. "Call it a loan if you prefer. A loan with a bond for security is quite an ordinary business matter. It is only a trifle, anyway."

"But--"

"Run along! I have no more time to give to you. I have a directors'

meeting at four. Ah, here's Mr. Dalton now. How are you, Dalton. Run along, youngster. Take the cash with you and welcome." Then he added in an undertone: "Just use your influence with your chums up at school, and we will say no more about this little loan. If you land the _March Hare_ in my hands the deal will be worth the fifty to me. Good night."

CHAPTER XII

TEMPORIZING

It was not until Paul was on his way home that the full significance of Mr. Carter's action dawned upon him. He, Paul Cameron, had been bribed!

He had taken from the magnate of Burmingham a sum of money in return for which he had tacitly pledged himself to use his influence to carry through a business deal which he held to be wrong, and with which he had no sympathy. To be sure, he had not done this monstrous deed voluntarily. Mr. Carter had thrust it upon him. He had been put in a difficult position and had failed to act. It was his pa.s.sivity for which he now blamed himself. He should have repudiated the whole thing, hurled the odious money upon Carter's desk--since the man refused to take it back--and fled from the place. The fact that Mr. Carter had given him no opportunity to discuss the matter or refuse his offer was no excuse. He should have made the opportunity himself.

The only apology he could offer for his conduct was that he was completely stunned by the happenings of the afternoon. The drama had moved too swiftly for him. Until it was over, he had not sensed its trend. Was he really so much to blame?

Nevertheless, twist and excuse the fact as he would, the truth remained that there he was with the hateful fifty-dollar bill in his possession.

It was appalling, terrible! He, who had always prided himself on his honesty! He had not had the least notion of precipitating such a crisis when he had inquired about selling his Liberty Bond. The query had been a purely innocent one. He had to say something, and the chance of getting information from Mr. Carter had seemed too opportune to let slip. But as he reviewed the episode of the past half hour, he saw that Mr. Carter was perfectly justified in misunderstanding him and thinking that he laid himself open to the very situation that had come about.

Paul fingered the bill nervously. Fifty dollars! If he chose to use it to meet the deficit on the school paper he could now take his own savings for the new typewriter he wanted so much. Who would be the wiser? Had not Mr. Carter given him the money? It was his, his own property.

To forfeit that typewriter had been a wrench. He had not dared to admit to himself how bitter had been his disappointment at giving it up. It would be a long time before he could ever again earn enough money to buy a machine. And he needed it so much--needed it right away. Suppose he did buy a typewriter next year? A dozen typewriters would never mean to him what one would mean just now. Until he had made up his mind to do without it, it had seemed an indispensable possession, and now the necessity of having it came back again with redoubled force. He reflected on the machine's myriad advantages. Wasn't it almost imperative that he buy one? Wasn't such a thing for the welfare of the school? Surely it would not be a selfish action if he expended his money for the good of others.

Suppose he were to urge the fellows to sell out the _March Hare_ to Carter? After all, they were their own masters. They need not do so unless they chose. He had no authority over them. To advise was a very different thing from commanding. No matter what measure he advocated, his opinion was neither final nor mandatory. He was no autocrat or imperator before whose decree his subjects trembled. It would be absurd to credit himself with such power.

And, anyway, the editorial board had never promised to bequeath the _March Hare_ to the school. If parents, teachers, pupils, the general public had a.s.sumed this, they had had no right to do so. The paper, as Mr. Carter had said, was the property of those who had created it. Were they not free to dispose of it as they chose?

Yet all the while he argued thus, Paul knew, deep down in his soul, that although there had been no written or verbal agreement, the community considered the publication a permanent school property.

Should it be sold to Mr. Carter and continue to be published, what chances for success would another such paper have? It would be useless for 1921 to attempt to duplicate the _March Hare_. People were familiar with it; they knew and liked it. In all probability a great portion of its regular subscribers would continue to take the magazine, regardless of who published it. That it had ceased to be a school enterprise would not influence them. They liked it for what it was, not as a philanthropy. Probably, too, with Mr. Carter behind it, the _March Hare_ would branch out and be made much more attractive. If the _Echo_ press took up the publication of such a monthly, it would, of course, be with the intention of sweeping all other compet.i.tors out of the field. It _would_ sweep them out, too. Mr. Carter would see to that. By fair means or foul he had always accomplished that which he willed to do.

Another school paper running in opposition to such a power? Why, it would not have the ghost of a chance to live! Besides, who would print it? No, if Mr. Carter took over the _March Hare_, the school must say good-by to further literary attempts.

But after all, was that his lookout? What concern of his would it be what became of Burmingham and 1921. They could struggle on as best they might. That was what his cla.s.s had had to do.

Paul walked home very slowly, turning Mr. Carter's bill in his hand as he went. How delicate its workmanship! How wonderful its dainty tracery!

He had never before noticed the accuracy with which a bill was fashioned.