But it was pointed out that this would be betraying the woman, and that Jo Hays (her companion) was fully able to take care of himself.
"Besides," said the Editor, aggrievedly, "you fellows only think of YOURSELVES, and you don't understand the first principles of journalism.
Do you suppose I'm going to do anything to spoil a half-column of leaded brevier copy--from an eye-witness, too?
No; it's a square enough fight as it stands.

We must look out for the woman, and not let Tournelli get an unfair drop on Hays.

That is, if the whole thing isn't a bluff." But the Italian did not return.

Whether he had incontinently fled, or was nursing his wrath in the kitchen, or already fulfilling his threat of waiting on the pavement outside the restaurant, we could not guess.
Another waiter appeared with the dinners they had ordered.

A momentary thrill of excitement passed over us at the possibility that Tournelli had poisoned their soup; but it presently lapsed, as we saw the couple partaking of it comfortably, and chatting with apparent unconcern.