'I'm a thorough believer in suggestions. The moment I have got things
running a little more smoothly, I shall have a round table conference
every afternoon to deal with suggestions for the day. Meantime, I'll
tell my secretary to have all letters for publication passed straight
on to you, so that you can sift and prepare a correspondence feature
every day. They may want helping out a bit occasionally, of course. A
friendly lead, you know, from "An Old Reader," or "Paterfamilias," to
keep 'em to their muttons. You'll see.'
'And where can I work?' I asked.
'Ah, to be sure. Yes. You want a room. Come with me now. I'll
introduce you to Hutchens, the manager, and he'll fix you up.'
Mr. Hutchens proved to be a miracle of correctness. I never knew much
of Lombard Street, Cornhill, Threadneedle Street, and their purlieus;
but I felt instinctively that Mr. Hutchens, in his dress, tone, and
general deportment, had attained as closely as mortal might to the
highest city standards of what a leading city man should be. I never
saw a speck of dust on his immaculately shining boots or hat. His
manner would have been almost priceless, I should suppose, in the
board room of a bank. His close-clipped whiskers--resembling some
costly fur--his large, perfectly white hands and frozen facial
expression were alike eloquent of massive dividends, of balance sheets
of sacred propriety, of gravely cordial votes of thanks to noble
chairmen, of gilt-edged security and success.
There was something, too, of the headmaster in the way in which he
shook hands with me, and in the automatic geniality of the smile with
which he favoured Arncliffe. (In this connection, of course, Arncliffe
was a parent, and I a future incumbent of the swishing block.)
'Another star in our costly galaxy,' he said; and, having reduced me
by one glance to the proportions of a performing flea, rather poorly
trained, he gave his attention indulgently to the editor.
'With regard to that question of the extra twenty minutes for the last
forme,' he began.
'Yes, I know,' said Arncliffe. 'Drop in and see me about it later,
will you?' (I marvelled at his temerity. As soon would I have thought
of inviting the Lord Mayor to forsake his Mansion House and turtles to
'drop in and see me later!') 'Meantime, I want you to find a home for
Freydon, will you? He's going to tackle the--a new feature, you know,
and must have a room.'
'There's not a vacant room in the building, Mr. Arncliffe--hardly a
chair, I should suppose. We now have a staff, you know, which----'
'Yes, I know, I know; there's got to be a good deal of sifting, but we
must go gently. We don't want to set Fleet Street humming. Look here!
What about old Harbottle? He has a room, hasn't he?'
'Mr. Harbottle has had his room here, Mr. Arncliffe, for just upon
twenty-seven years.'
'Yes; I thought so. Where is it?'
'Mr. Harbottle's room is immediately overhead.'
'Let's have a look at it. Do you mind? Can you spare a minute?'
'Oh, I am quite at your service, of course, Mr. Arncliffe.'
A minion from the messenger's office walked processionally before us
bearing a key, and presently we were in Mr. Harbottle's sanctuary. Two
well-worn saddle-bag chairs stood before the hearth, and between them
a chastely designed little table. On the rug was a pair of roomy
slippers. In a glass-fronted cabinet one saw decanters and tumblers.
Against one wall stood a large and comfortable couch. The writing-table
was supplied with virgin blotting-paper, new pens, works of
reference, ash-tray, matches, and the like; and over the mantel hung a
full-length portrait of Lord Beaconsfield. There was also an
ivory-handled copper kettle, and a patent coffee-making apparatus.
'H'm! The old boy makes himself comfortable,' said Arncliffe. 'He has
written one short leader note since--since the change. And where does
the other old gentleman work, Hutchens? The one with gout, you know.
What's his name? The very old chap, I mean.'
'Dr. Powell? Dr. Powell's room is the next one to this.'
A key was brought to us, and we inspected another very similar
apartment, which had a green baize-covered leg-rest on its hearth-rug.
'H'm! Dr. Powell is not quite so busy, of course. We haven't had a
line from him yet. Well, Hutchens, you might have Dr. Powell's things
put in Mr. Harbottle's room at once, will you? or the other way about,
you know. It doesn't matter which. Then Freydon here can have one of
these rooms. He will want to start in at once.'
'As you like, of course, Mr. Arncliffe,' said the manager, with
portentous suavity. 'These gentlemen are of your staff, not mine. But,
really! Well, it is for you to say, but I greatly fear that one or
both of these gentlemen will be quite likely to resign if we treat
them in so very summary a fashion.'
'No! Do you really think that?' asked Arncliffe, so earnestly that I
felt my chance of having a room to myself was irretrievably lost.
'I do indeed, Mr. Arncliffe. You see, these gentlemen have been
accustomed for very many years to--well, to a considerable amount of
deference, and----'
'Well, then, in that case, I'll tell you what, Hutchens; put 'em both
in the other old gentleman's room upstairs, will you? Mr. Thingummy's,
you know, who specialises on Egyptology. I know he's got a nice room,
because he insisted on my drinking a glass of port there the other
night. Port always upsets me. Put 'em both in there, will you? Then
we'll give one of these rooms to L----, and you might let Freydon here
start work in the other right away, will you? By Jove! If you're only
right, you know, that will simplify matters immensely. An excellent
idea of yours, Hutchens. I'm no end obliged to you.'
'But, Mr. Arncliffe, I really----'
'Right you are! I'll see you later about that last forme question.
Look in in about an hour, will you? I must bolt now--half a dozen
people waiting. You'll get the letters from my secretary, Freydon,
won't you? Come and see me whenever you've got any suggestions. Always
ready for suggestions, any time!'
His last words reached us faintly from the staircase.
'Tut, tut!' said Mr. Hutchens. 'I am afraid these violent upheavals
will make for a good deal of trouble; a good deal of trouble.
However!' And then he glared formidably upon me, as who should say:
'At least, _you_ cannot give me any orders. Let me see you open your
mouth, you confounded newcomer, and I will smite you to the earth with
a managerial thunderbolt!'
'Well,' said I cheerfully, 'I'd better go and fetch those letters. And
which of these rooms would you prefer me to take?'
'I would prefer, sir, that you took neither of them. But as Dr.
Powell's gout is very bad, and he is therefore not likely to be here
this week, you had better occupy this room--for the present.'
The emphasis he laid on these last words seemed meant to convey to me
a sense of the extreme precariousness of my tenure of any room in that
building, if not of existence in the same city.
'I trust you understand that this choice of rooms is no affair of
mine,' I said.
I thought his frozen expression showed a hint of softening at this,
but he only said as he swept processionally away:
'I will give the requisite instructions.'