CHAPTER I

In the spring of 1882 Mr. Jarvis Runcorn, editor and co-proprietor of the London Weekly Post, was looking about for a young man of journalistic promise whom he might associate with himself in the conduct of that long established Radical paper.  The tale of his years warned him that he could not hope to support much longer a burden which necessarily increased with the growing range and complexity of public affairs.  Hitherto he had been the autocrat of the office, but competing Sunday papers exacted an alertness, a versatile vigour, such as only youth can supply; for there was felt to be a danger that the Weekly Post might lose its prestige in democratic journalism.  Thus on the watch, Mr. Runcorn—­a wary man of business, who had gone through many trades before he reached that of weekly literature—­took counsel one day with a fellow-campaigner, Malkin by name, who owned two or three country newspapers, and had reaped from them a considerable fortune; in consequence, his attention was directed to one John Earwaker, then editing the Wattleborough Courier.  Mr. Malkin’s eldest son had recently stood as Liberal candidate for Wattleborough, and though defeated was loud in his praise of the Courier; with its editor he had come to be on terms of intimate friendship.  Earwaker was well acquainted with journalistic life in the provinces.  He sprang from a humble family living at Kingsmill, had studied at Whitelaw College, and was now but nine-and-twenty:  the style of his ‘leaders’ seemed to mark him for a wider sphere of work.  It was decided to invite him to London, and the young man readily accepted Mr. Runcorn’s proposals.  A few months later he exchanged temporary lodgings for chambers in Staple Inn, where he surrounded himself with plain furniture and many books.

In personal appearance he had changed a good deal since that prize-day at Whitelaw when his success as versifier and essayist foretold a literary career.  His figure was no longer ungainly; the big head seemed to fit better upon the narrow shoulders.  He neither walked with extravagant paces, nor waved his arms like a windmill.  A sufficiency of good food, and the habit of intercourse with active men; had given him an every-day aspect; perhaps the sole peculiarity he retained from student times was his hollow chuckle of mirth, a laugh which struggled vainly for enlargement.  He dressed with conventional decency, even submitting to the chimney-pot hat.  His features betrayed connection with a physically coarse stock; but to converse with him was to discover the man of original vigour and wide intellectual scope.  With ordinary companions, it was a rare thing for him to speak of his professional interests.  But for his position on The Weekly Post it would not have been easy to surmise how he stood with regard to politics, and he appeared to lean as often towards the conservative as to the revolutionary view of abstract questions.