to lock him in the coal cellar, and kindly slip out and
see if there's a policeman on the beat in case I need him."

"Very good, sir," said the secretary.

I waited for about an hour, wrote a few editorials advocating the rights
of the people, smoked some Turkish cigarettes, drank a glass of sherry,
and ate part of an anchovy sandwich.

Then I rang the bell. "Bring that man here," I said.

Presently they brought him in. He was a timid-looking man with an
embarrassed manner and all the low cunning of an author stamped on his
features. I could see a bundle of papers in his hand, and I knew that
the scoundrel was carrying a manuscript.

"Now, sir," I said, "speak quickly. What's your business?"

"I've got here a manuscript," he began.

"What!" I shouted at him. "A manuscript! You'd dare, would you! Bringing
manuscripts in here! What sort of a place do you think this is?"

"It's the manuscript of a story," he faltered.

"A story!" I shrieked. "What on earth do you think we'd want stories
for! Do you think we've nothing better to do than to print your idiotic
ravings? Have you any idea, you idiot, of the expense we're put to in
setting up our fifty pages of illustrated advertising? Look here," I
continued, seizing a bundle of proof illustrations that lay in front of
me, "do you see this charming picture of an Asbestos Cooker, guaranteed
fireless, odourless, and purposeless? Do you see this patent motor-car
with pneumatic cushions, and the full-page description of its
properties? Can you form any idea of the time and thought that we have
to spend on these things, and yet you dare to come in here with your
miserable stories. By heaven," I said, rising in my seat, "I've a notion
to come over there and choke you: I'm entitled to do it by the law, and
I think I will."

"Don't, don't," he pleaded. "I'll go away. I meant no harm. I'll take it
with me."

"No you don't," I interrupted; "none of your sharp tricks with this
magazine. You've submitted this manuscript to me, and it stays
submitted. If I don't like it, I shall prosecute you, and, I trust,
obtain full reparation from the courts."

[Illustration: With all the low cunning of an author stamped on his
features.]

To tell the truth, it had occurred to me that perhaps I might need after
all to buy the miserable stuff. Even while I felt that my indignation at
the low knavery of the fellow was justified, I knew that it might be
necessary to control it. The present