now.
He simply regarded Maddox's behaviour as unaccountable. In the hope of
lighting on some explanation he called at Tavistock Place one Sunday
afternoon, at a time when he was pretty sure of finding Miss Roots
alone. He wanted to know, he said, what was the matter with Maddy.
Apparently Miss Roots had something the matter with her too, for her
only answer was to hand him stiffly a copy of _Metropolis_ with the
pages scored in blue pencil at his own article. He took it with a
radiant and confiding smile, a smile that assumed such a thoroughly
delightful understanding between him and Miss Roots that the little
lady, who had evidently counted on a very different effect, was put to
some intellectual confusion. She noticed that as he read the smile
vanished and gave place, first to an expression of absolute
bewilderment, and then to a furious flush, whether of shame or
indignation she could not tell, but it looked (again to her confusion)
uncommonly like both.

"I see," he said quietly, and laid the paper aside.

What he had seen was that, save for a few ingenious transpositions,
the two reviews stood very much as he had written them. The only
striking alteration was that Mr. Fulcher had got the article and young
Paterson the paragraph.

"Oh, you see, do you?" said Miss Roots bitterly. "That's more than I
do."

"I see there's been some astonishing mistake." For one moment he
exonerated Jewdwine and embraced the wild hypothesis of a printer's
error. He took back the accursed journal; as he held it his hand
trembled uncontrollably. He glanced over the notices again. No. It was
not after this fashion that the printers of the _Metropolis_ were wont
to err. He recognized the familiar hand of the censor, though it had
never before accomplished such an incredible piece of editing as this.

And yet it was in strict accordance with the old tradition. The staff
of _Metropolis_ knew that before a line of theirs was printed it had
to pass under their editor's reforming hand; that was the understood
condition on which they wrote for him at all; it was the method by
which Jewdwine maintained the unity of his empire. But in the case of
Rickman he either forbore to exercise his privilege, or exercised it
in such a manner as preserved the individuality of the poet's style.
Like some imperial conqueror Jewdwine had absorbed the literary spirit
of the man he conquered, and _Metropolis_ bore the stamp of Rickman
for all time. So now t