he is any more than five or six-and-twenty.
He owes his position to the fact of his aunt's being the proprietress.
He asked me if he knew me. Before I could tell him that he didn't, he
went on talking. He appeared to be labouring under a general sense of
injury.

"'People come into this office,' he said; 'they seem to look upon it as
a shelter from the rain--people I don't know from Adam. And that damned
fool downstairs lets them march straight up--anybody, men with articles
on safety valves, people who have merely come to kick up a row about
something or another. Half my work I have to do on the stairs.

"I recommended to him that he should insist upon strangers writing their
business upon a slip of paper. He thought it a good idea.

"'For the last three-quarters of an hour,' he said, 'have I been trying
to finish this one column, and four times have I been interrupted.'

"At that precise moment there came another knock at the door.

"'I won't see him!' he cried. 'I don't care who he is; I won't see him.
Send him away! Send everybody away!'

"I went to the door. He was an elderly gentleman. He made to sweep by
me; but I barred his way, and closed the editorial door behind me. He
seemed surprised; but I told him it was impossible for him to see the
editor that afternoon, and suggested his writing his business on a sheet
of paper, which I handed to him for the purpose. I remained in that
ante-room for half an hour, and during that time I suppose I must have
sent away about ten or a dozen people. I don't think their business
could have been important, or I should have heard about it afterwards.
The last to come was a tired-looking gentleman, smoking a cigarette. I
asked him his name.

"He looked at me in surprise, and then answered, 'Idiot!'

"I remained firm, however, and refused to let him pass.

"'It's a bit awkward,' he retorted. 'Don't you think you could make an
exception in favour of the sub-editor on press night?'

"I replied that such would be contrary to my instructions.

"'Oh, all right,' he answered. 'I'd like to know who's going to the
Royalty to-night, that's all. It's seven o'clock already.'

"An idea occurred to me. If the sub-editor of a paper doesn't know whom
to send to a theatre, it must mean that the post of dramatic critic on
that paper is for some reason or another vacant.

"'Oh, that's all right,' I told him. 'I shall be in time enough.'

"He appeared neither pleased nor displeased.