Frenchmen who find themselves in the
train have almost the apologetic air of intruders.

While passing through the corridor of a second-class carriage, Riviere
happened on the tubby little figure and rosy smiling countenance of
Jimmy Martin the journalist. Martin never forgot a face or a name--it
was part of his profession to make an unlimited acquaintanceship with
everyone who might possibly "have a story to tell."

"Hail, sir!" said he cheerily. "You haven't forgotten the little sermon
I had to preach to you on the infallibility of my owners, the _Europe
Chronicle_?"

Riviere shook hands cordially. "I remember perfectly. You're going home
on holiday, I expect?"

"I'm going home for good, praise be. I've sacked my owners. I told them
that they were a set of unmitigated liars, scoundrels and bloodsuckers,
and that I couldn't reconcile it with my conscience to work for them any
longer without a 20 per cent. increase in pay. They demurred, and I
promptly sacked them--having in my pocket an offer from a London paper.
Thus we combine valour with prudence--a mixture which is more
colloquially known as 'business.'"

"What's your new post?"

"Reporter for the _London Daily Truth_. If you've a story to tell at
any time, and want a platform to speak from, 'phone me up."

"Thanks; I will."

"I've been turning my think-tank on to the Hudson Bay Transport
flotation. You certainly had some inside information on that deal. Why
did it shut up with a snap, I ask myself. Who banged the lid down?"

Martin's effort to pump information was very transparent, but his
infectious good humour made it impossible to take offence.

Riviere was a keen judge of men, and he felt instinctive confidence in
the honesty of the whimsical little journalist. One could trust this
man. There was nobody within hearing along the corridor of the railway
carriage. Accordingly he answered:

"If you'll keep the information strictly to yourself until I want
publication, I'll tell you."

Martin sobered instantly. "Mr Riviere," said he, "you can trust me
absolutely. I play square."

"So I judge.... You ask me who banged the lid down. I did."

"Phew! You must have landed Larssen a hefty one on the solar plexus."

"The matter is not finally settled yet. It's just possible that I might
need the platform you offered me. Then I'll talk further."

"Exclusive?" asked Martin, with the journalist part of him on top.

"I can't promise that. It depends."