He hurried to the offices of the _Evening Herald_ and wrote his
account of the ceremony he had seen. He described the old and venerable
men who had sworn to protect the widow and the orphan and the
distressed virgin, and demanded of those in authority by what right
they degraded an ancient and honourable Order by allowing feeble
octogenarians to make promises they were incapable of fulfilling.
Heaven help the distressed virgin who depended on these tottering
knights for succour!... He had written half a column of very
vituperative stuff when Hinde came into the room.
"Hilloa," said Hinde, "done that job all right?"
John smiled and nodded his head.
"I've got a letter for you," Hinde continued. "Cream sent it to me and
asked me to pass it on to you. He hasn't got your address!"
He handed the letter to John and then picked up some of the sheets on
which the report of the ceremony in the Abbey was being written. He
read the first two sheets and then uttered a sharp exclamation.
"Anything wrong?" John asked.
"Wrong!" Hinde gaped at him, incapable of expressing himself with
sufficient force. He swallowed and then, with a great effort, spoke
very calmly. "My dear chap," he said, "I regard it as a merciful act of
God that I came into this room when I did. What the!... Oh, well, it's
no good talking to you. You're absolutely hopeless!"
"Why, what's the matter?"
"Matter! I can't print your stuff. I should get the sack if I were to
let this sort of thing go into the paper. Haven't you any sense of
proportion at all?"
"But the whole thing was ridiculous!..."
"What's that got to do with it? Half the world is ridiculous, but
there's no need to run about telling everybody!"
"But if you'd seen them ... _old_ fellows swearing to draw their
swords in defence of women and children, and them not fit to do more
than draw their pensions!..."
"Yes, yes, we know all about that. But a certain amount of humbug is
decent and necessary!" He turned to a young man who had just entered
the room. "Here, Chilvers, I want you to do a couple of columns on that
stunt at the Abbey this morning!"
"Righto," said Chilvers.
"But he wasn't there!" John protested.
"Wasn't there!" Hinde echoed scornfully. "A good journalist doesn't
need to be there. Just give the programme to him, will you?" John
handed the order of proceedings to Chilvers, and Hinde added a few
instructions. "Write up the King," he said. "Every inch a sovereign and
that sort of stuff. Royal dignity!... Was Kitchener there?" he said
turning again to John.
"Yes. A disappointing-looking man!..."
"Write him up, too. Say something about soldierly mien and stern,
unbending features!"
"I see," said Chilvers. "The other chaps.... I'll work them off as
venerable wiseacres!..."
"No, don't rub their age in. Venerable's not a nice word to use about
anything except a cathedral. You can call the Abbey a venerable edifice
or the sacred fane, but it would look nicer if you call the old buffers
"the Elder Statesmen." Good phrase that! Hasn't been used much, either.
Get it done quickly, will you?" He turned to John. "You might have made
us miss the Home Edition with your desire to tell the truth!"
John turned away. The sense of failure that had been in possession of
him since the production of _Milchu and St. Patrick_ filled him
now and made him feel terribly desolate. Whatever he did seemed to
fail. He set off with high hopes and fine intentions, but when he
reached his destination, his arrival seemed to be of very little
importance and his small boat seemed to be very small and his cargo of
slight value. Almost mechanically he opened Cream's letter. Hinde,
having discussed other matters with Chilvers, called to John. "Come and
see me in my room, will you, before you go!" and John answered, "Very
good!" He read Cream's note. Cream had suddenly to produce a new sketch,
and he had overhauled John's piece and put it on at the Wolverhampton
Coliseum. _"It went with a bang, my boy! Absolutely knocked 'em clean
off their perch! I wish you'd do another!..."_
He enclosed postal orders for two pounds, the fee for one week's
performance. John put the letter into his pocket and, nodding to
Chilvers, now busily writing up the King and Lord Kitchener, he left
the room and went to Hinde's office.
"I'm. sorry, Mac," Hinde said to him, "I'm sorry I let out at you just
now, but you gave me a fright. I'd have been fired if I'd let your
thing go to press!"
"I quite understand," John answered. "I see that I'm not fit for this
sort of work. I don't seem to be much good at anything!"
"What about Cream? He told me he'd done your sketch very successfully!"
John passed Cream's letter to him. "Well, you can do that sort of thing
all right anyhow," Hinde said when he had read the letter.
"Cream re-wrote it," John murmured. "And even if he hadn't, it's not
much of an achievement, is it? I wanted to write good stuff, and I
can't do it. I can't even do decent journalism!..."
"Oh, those articles you do aren't too bad," Hinde said encouragingly.
"What are a few articles! The only success I have is with a low
music-hall sketch, and even that has to be rewritten!"
"Come, come!" said Hinde. "You're feeling depressed now. You'll change
your mind presently. I daresay there's plenty of good stuff in you and
one of these days it'll come out. You needn't get into the dumps
because you've failed to make good as a journalist. God knows that's no
triumphant career! Plenty of good writers have tried to make a living
at journalism and failed hopelessly. Haven't had half the success
you've had! Finished that new book of yours yet?"
"Very nearly!"
"I suppose Jannissary is going to do it, too?"
"Yes. I've contracted for three novels with him!"
"I wonder how that man would live if it weren't for the vanity of young
authors!"
"I don't know," said John. "I'm too busy wondering how young authors
manage to live!"