and finally to be worsted by it, for his next remarks were limpidly
honest.

"Don't you be an ass," he said. "You don't know what you're letting
yourself in for. Did you see that blighter who went out just now? Do you
know who he is? That's the fellow we've got to pay five pounds a week to
for life."

"Why?"

"We can't get rid of him. When the paper started, the proprietors--not
the present ones--thought it would give the thing a boom if they had
a football competition with a first prize of a fiver a week for life.
Well, that's the man who won it. He's been handed down as a legacy from
proprietor to proprietor, till now we've got him. Ages ago they tried
to get him to compromise for a lump sum down, but he wouldn't. Said he
would only spend it, and preferred to get it by the week. Well, by the
time we've paid that vampire, there isn't much left out of our profits.
That's why we are at the present moment a little understaffed."

A frown clouded Mr. Petheram's brow. Roland wondered if he was thinking
of Bessie March.

"I know all about that," he said.

"And you still want to buy the thing?"

"Yes."

"But what on earth for? Mind you, I ought not to be crabbing my own
paper like this, but you seem a good chap, and I don't want to see you
landed. Why are you doing it?"

"Oh, just for fun."

"Ah, now you're talking. If you can afford expensive amusements, go
ahead."

He put his feet on the table, and lit a short pipe. His gloomy views on
the subject of 'Squibs' gave way to a wave of optimism.

"You know," he said, "there's really a lot of life in the old rag yet.
If it were properly run. What has hampered us has been lack of capital.
We haven't been able to advertise. I'm bursting with ideas for booming
the paper, only naturally you can't do it for nothing. As for editing,
what I don't know about editing--but perhaps you had got somebody else
in your mind?"

"No, no," said Roland, who would not have known an editor from an
office-boy. The thought of interviewing prospective editors appalled
him.

"Very well, then," resumed Mr. Petheram, reassured, kicking over a heap
of papers to give more room for his feet. "Take it that I continue as
editor. We can discuss terms later. Under the present regime I have been
doing all the work in exchange for a happy home. I suppose you won't
want to spoil the ship for a ha'porth of tar? In other words, you would
sooner have a happy, well-fed editor running about the plac