“Garn!  They’d kick you out!” croaked Ebenezer.  “They’ll only listen to an Englishman.”  His coarse-featured face glistened with spite.

“My Ebenezer has a good appearance,” said old Sugarman, “and his English is fine, and dat is half de battle.”

Schlesinger, appealed to, intimated that Ebenezer might try, but that they could not well spare him any percentage at the start.  After much haggling, Ebenezer consented to waive his commission, if the committee would consent to allow an original tale of his to appear in the paper.

The stipulation having been agreed to, he capered joyously about the office and winked periodically at Pinchas from behind the battery of his blue spectacles.  The poet was, however, rapt in a discussion as to the best printer.  The Committee were for having Gluck, who had done odd jobs for most of them, but Pinchas launched into a narrative of how, when he edited a great organ in Buda-Pesth, he had effected vast economies by starting a little printing-office of his own in connection with the paper.

“You vill set up a little establishment,” he said.  “I vill manage it for a few pounds a veek.  Then I vill not only print your paper, I vill get you large profits from extra printing.  Vith a man of great business talent at the head of it—­”

De Haan made a threatening movement, and Pinchas edged away from the proximity of the coal-scuttle.

“Gluck’s our printer!” said De Haan peremptorily.  “He has Hebrew type.  We shall want a lot of that.  We must have a lot of Hebrew quotations—­not spell Hebrew words in English like the other papers.  And the Hebrew date must come before the English.  The public must see at once that our principles are superior.  Besides, Gluck’s a Jew, which will save us from the danger of having any of the printing done on Saturdays.”

“But shan’t we want a publisher?” asked Sampson.

“That’s vat I say,” cried Pinchas.  “If I set up this office, I can be your publisher too.  Ve must do things business-like.”

“Nonsense, nonsense!  We are our own publishers,” said De Haan.  “Our clerks will send out the invoices and the subscription copies, and an extra office-boy can sell the papers across the counter.”

Sampson smiled in his sleeve.

“All right.  That will do—­for the first number,” he said cordially.  “Ta ra ra ta.”

“Now then, Mr. Leon, everything is settled,” said De Haan, stroking his beard briskly.  “I think I’ll ask you to help us to draw up the posters.  We shall cover all London, sir, all London.”

“But wouldn’t that be wasting money?” said Raphael.

“Oh, we’re going to do the thing properly.  I don’t believe in meanness.”

“It’ll be enough if we cover the East End,” said Schlesinger, drily.

“Quite so.  The East End is London as far as we’re concerned,” said De Haan readily.

Raphael took the pen and the paper which De Haan tendered him and wrote The Flag of Judah, the title having been fixed at their first interview.