The D.A. Breaks an Egg

“And I take it,” Selby added with a smile, “it’s part of an apparently studied approach to ignore business courtesies?”

“I don’t wait in the outer offices of my employees, if that’s what you mean,” Paden said. “You’re working for me. I’m a taxpayer.”

“There are a good many other taxpayers, Mr. Paden.”

“I’m a big taxpayer and I want to talk.”

“Go ahead and talk.”

The secretary in the doorway caught Selby’s reassuring nod, and withdrew.

Paden settled himself comfortably in a chair, puffed at his cigar, and shrewdly sized up the tall, wavy-haired young man who sat across the desk.

“Selby, this is a political job. What do you know about politics?”

“Not much, I’m afraid.”

“That’s the way I size you up.”

“However,” Selby went on, “very fortunately, Mr. Paden, politics, in the accepted sense of the word, seldom enter into elections in Madison County. The voters have a pretty fair idea of the qualifications of the men who are running for office. They elect the ones they think can do the most good. The backbone of this community is agricultural.”

“I know, I know,” Paden said impatiently. “All that’s going to change. Why do you think I bought The Blade?”

“Probably because you were interested in publishing a daily newspaper.”

“Because I’m interested in making money.”

“There’s not a great deal of money to be made out of publishing a daily newspaper in a relatively small county seat. The owner of your competitive paper, The Clarion, has been here for over ten years and while he’s done very well, he hasn’t acquired any great riches.”

Paden smiled. “For a lawyer, Selby, you don’t listen very carefully. I said I bought The Blade because I wanted to make money. I didn’t say I expected to make it out of publishing the paper... A shrewd publisher can make a lot of money. The paper gives him power. Power makes money. Madison City has been small time. It’s about to grow up.”

Selby fished a crusted brier pipe from his pocket, tamped tobacco in it, said nothing.

“Now, then,” Paden went on, “Madison City is growing up. It’s attracting attention. There’s a new resort hotel going up in the mountains above the city. People who come to a resort hotel want to be amused.

“The syndicate that’s putting up that hotel wants to be assured of a co-operative attitude on the part of the county officials.

“That’s why I bought The Blade.”

Selby smiled. “Evidently you believe in the power school of dramatic expression.”

“I get what I want, Selby.”

“Always?”

“Yes, sooner or later, by one means or another.”

“Okay,” Selby said, grinning. “Try another.”

“I don’t get you.”

“That’s the point, you’re not going to. You say you get what you want one way or another. This way isn’t going to get you anything. Try another way and try it later.”

Paden took the cigar out of his mouth, used it to make little jabbing gestures which emphasized his point. “Get this, Selby,” he said. “Politics. Good, hard, practical politics have come to Madison County. I’m putting it on the line.”

“I gathered that was what you were trying to say,” Selby said. “Incidentally, Mr. Paden, The Blade has always been opposed to me, personally and officially.”

Paden laughed, a harsh, short, contemptuous laugh. “Look,” he said. “You’ve played beanbag in this county. Now you’re going in for big-league baseball. You don’t know what it means to have a paper against you. Just wait until the next murder case comes along.”

“You sound rather ominous,” Selby said, smiling.

“You’d better wake up,” Paden told him. “Smart money doesn’t go around trying to kowtow to a man after he’s elected. It buys the fellow first and then gets him elected.”

“I’ve already been elected,” Selby pointed out.

Paden got up from his chair. “All right,” he said, carelessly flicking ashes from his cigar on the carpet. “You’re elected. Try and stay elected, Mr. District Attorney. And remember that the next time a really good murder case breaks — one where the public interest is aroused — you’ll find out what it really means to have opposition from a newspaper run by a man who knows how to handle public sentiment.”

Selby pushed back his chair. “All right,” he said, “I’ve enjoyed the opposition of your paper ever since I entered public life. You’ve spouted your carefully rehearsed threats. The answer is NO! Now get out and stay out.”

Paden hesitated, sizing up the young district attorney. “If you wanted to be smart...” he began.

“I know,” Selby interrupted, “I could be governor. You’d be surprised how many times I’ve heard that. I don’t want to be smart. I prefer to be honest.”

He moved toward Paden.

“All right,” the publisher said, hastily jerking the door open. “When you change your mind, let me know.”

2

Dorothy Clifton, coming down the winding mountain grade in second gear, swung abruptly over to a wide spot on the left-hand side of the road to survey the panorama beneath her.