“How like Tessie. You must go.”

“When do I see you again?”

“Eh? What for?”

“We haven’t half settled things. I keep telling you that we must talk. Unless we have a united plan of action, this is going to be bad for both of us. Can I see you tonight?”

“I suppose so.”

“Where shall I call for you?”

“At home.”

“What? Won’t your father mind?”

“I haven’t any notion. Come about half-past eight. I’ll be watching for you. No—just blow your horn, will you?”

It was Solly’s turn to admire. Casually blown motor horns, he was sure, would not soothe the breast of Pearl’s father. And yet she did not seem to care. Clearly Pearl was a girl of greater spirit than he had supposed.

Punctually at half-past four Ridley arrived at the home of his employer, and as concisely as possible he reported to him the conversation which had passed between him and Gordon Balmer, The Bellman’s solicitor, earlier in the day.

“So he’s going to Pimples Buckle?” said Mr Clerebold Warboys.

“Yes. I didn’t tell him, that Weir went to Buckle last week; we know just as much about Buckle’s influence as he does. But it’s no good. Buckle knows nothing about the affair, and isn’t interested. He has his pride, you know. He says this isn’t crime—merely kid stuff—and he’s only interested in crime. He wouldn’t budge unless we would promise him a good deal of newspaper protection next time he comes into court, and of course we can’t do that.”

“So we’re still up in the air about X.”

“Yes. Worse than up in the air, I’m afraid. Snelgrove has nabbed X.”

“What!”

“I had a call from Balmer just as I was leaving the office. Snelgrove had called him not long before; they say they’ve got X, but of course they won’t tell us who it is. Balmer’s guess is that it is a woman. Anyhow, Snelgrove wanted us to meet him tomorrow, for a showdown, in his office. Balmer fought that, because he wanted the meeting to be in his office. But after a lot of wrangling I’ve arranged that the lawyers, and Vambrace, and X, should all meet in my office. We have to keep some sort of face.”

“Quite right. If we have to climb down and make terms, we’d better do it on our own ground.”

“You think we should climb down?”

“I don’t know. And I’m not going to be there. You must handle this. Let them think they have winkled me out of my house and down to the office, and they’ll imagine we are worried. Which, of course, we are. But we mustn’t show it. That’s why you must deal with it yourself.”

“Very well; if you think that best.”

“I do. Fight to the last ditch. We mustn’t climb down if we can possibly avoid it.”

“I’m glad you feel that way.”

“I certainly do feel that way. There is nothing lawyers like better than to score off a newspaper. In fact, you might say there is nothing most people like better than to score off a newspaper. And it’s understandable that they should feel that way. There have been times in my political life when I would have been glad to silence every newspaper in the country. Newspapers, as you very well know, can be damned nuisances.”

Ridley smiled. “There have been two or three times in my life when I would have done anything to keep something out of a paper,” said he; “anything, that is, except give the order for a story to be killed.”

“I know what you’re talking about,” said Clerebold Warboys. “But in spite of all the hogwash that is talked about the freedom of the Press, and in spite of the nauseating slop which the newspapers sometimes write about it, the freedom of the Press is a damned important thing. Not that this pin-prick has much to do with it. At worst it will cost us some money. But what I don’t like is being pushed around by people who hate the paper and want to make it look foolish. God knows we can make ourselves look silly enough, without any outside help. We’ve got a case of some sort. We are as much abused as Vambrace. So we’ll fight, just to show that a newspaper doesn’t have to look like a fool to please a few cranks. We’ll get Pettypiece to fight the case for us, if it goes to court. He’s forgotten more about newspapers and libel than old Snelgrove will ever know. We won’t climb down unless they can show that we have really been careless and haven’t a leg to stand on.”

“I’m afraid we have been careless,” said Ridley.

“It could happen to anybody. Anyway, they don’t know we’ve been careless yet. And they won’t, unless this comes to court. Don’t let this thing worry you, Ridley. A pin-prick.”

“I’m afraid it is a little more than a pin-prick for me, sir,” said Ridley. “This is not easy to explain, because it makes me look vain and probably a little foolish. You know I’ve done a great deal to arrange the new journalism course at Waverley. In fact, I might say that I’ve done all the real work. It’s meant a great deal of time for several months. There has never been any talk of reward, and I don’t want money. I can say quite honestly that I haven’t done it for money. But it has crossed my mind, once or twice, that I might be named for an honorary degree.”

Thus modestly he brought out the ambition which had been his constant, lively companion for many weeks.

“Well, what about it? Vambrace has no say in such things. He isn’t a Governor.”

“He is very close to several Governors.”

“Which ones?”

“This is rather embarrassing, but I think he carries a great deal of influence with your daughter-in-law.”

“With Nesta? Oh, I don’t think she sees much of him.”

“Mrs Roger Warboys has been interesting herself in this matter to a greater degree than you apparently know. And you are aware that she has a poor opinion of me as an editor. She is a friend of Mrs Bridgetower’s as well.”

“Well, God bless my soul! You think she’s out to sink you, for this honorary degree, or whatever it is?”

“I’m afraid so.”

“Well, what do you expect me to do about it?”

“I have not mentioned it to you before because I do not expect you to do anything about it. I have too much pride to appeal to you in a thing of this kind.”

“I’m glad of that,” said Mr Warboys who, like many people, had a keen sense of the triviality of ambition in others. “I couldn’t interfere, you know. Most of the Governors are friends of mine, but I couldn’t go hat in hand to them and ask them to do something for somebody who was working for me. They might take it amiss. But you can leave it to me to put Nesta straight. It would be a fine thing for you to have a doctorate. A very nice crown to your career. A good thing for The Bellman. But if it doesn’t work out, don’t worry. These things are pretty chancy. Anyhow, you don’t care much about it, do you?”

Ridley longed to say that he cared passionately about it. But life had not encouraged that sort of boldness in him, and he muttered something which suggested that he cared little for worldly gauds. Mr Warboys was plainly relieved, and after a few further remarks, Ridley rose to go. As he was about to leave the room Mrs Roger Warboys entered.

“There’s a taxi at the door,” said she to Ridley. “I thought, it must be yours. You always come and go in taxis; why don’t you get yourself a car?”

“I prefer taxis,” said he. “I find them much more convenient.”

“Not a bit convenient, really,” said Mrs Warboys, contradicting absent-mindedly and without interest. Then something seemed to strike her, and she looked at Ridley keenly. “What news of Mrs Ridley?” said she.

Ridley turned very white, and the bony structure of his brow stood out in stronger relief. But when he spoke it was quietly and with self-possession. “The news does not change very much, and never for the better, Mrs Warboys,” said he, and hurried out of the room.

“You shouldn’t have asked him that, Nesta,” said Clerebold Warboys. “Anyhow, you’re not supposed to know.”