‘And how do you get on with old Runcorn?’

’As well as can be expected where there is not a single subject of agreement,’ Earwaker replied.  ’I have hopes of reducing our circulation.’

‘What the deuce do you mean?’

’In other words, of improving the paper.  Runcorn is strong on the side of blackguardism.  We had a great fight the other day over a leader offered by Kenyon,—­a true effusion of the political gutter-snipe.  I refused point-blank to let it go in; Runcorn swore that, if I did not, I should go out.  I offered to retire that moment.  “We must write for our public,” he bellowed.  “True,” said I, “but not necessarily for the basest among them.  The standard at the best is low enough.”  “Do you call yourself a Radical?” “Not if this be Radicalism.”  “You ought to be on the Morning instead of the Weekly Post.”  I had my way, and probably shall end by sending Mr Kenyon back to his tinker’s work shop.  If not, I must look out for cleaner occupation.’

‘Go it, my boy!  Go it!’ cried Malkin, slapping his companion’s knee violently.  ’Raise the tone!  To the devil with mercenary considerations!  Help the proletariat out of its grovelling position.’

They approached the street where Earwaker had to alight.  The other declared his intention of driving on to Fulham in the hope of finding a friend who lived there.

‘But I must see you again.  When shall you be home to-night?’

‘About half-past eleven, I dare say.’

’Right!  If I am free I’ll come out to Staple Inn, and we’ll talk till three or four.’

The house at which the journalist presented himself was such as might be inhabited by a small family of easy means.  As he was taking off his overcoat, a door opened and Christian Moxey came forward to greet him.  They shook hands like men who stood on friendly, but not exactly on intimate, terms.

‘Will you come up to the laboratory for a moment?’ said Moxey.  ’I should like to show you something I have under the microscope.’

The room he spoke of was at the top of the house; two chambers had been made into one, and the fittings were those required by a student of physical science.  Various odours distressed the air.  A stranger to the pursuits represented might have thought that the general disorder and encumberment indicated great activity, but the experienced eye perceived at once that no methodical work was here in progress.  Mineralogy, botany, biology, physics, and probably many other sciences, were suggested by the specimens and apparatus that lay confusedly on tables, shelves, or floor.

Moxey looked very slim and elegant in his evening costume.  When he touched any object, his long, translucent fingers seemed soft and sensitive as a girl’s.  He stepped with peculiar lightness, and the harmonious notes of his voice were in keeping with these other characteristics.  Ten years had developed in him that graceful languor which at four-and-twenty was only beginning to get mastery over the energies of a well-built frame.