to him that if he
liked at any time to devote a little paragraph to Miss Poppy Grace, he
was at perfect liberty to do so."

"A liberty he interpreted as poetic licence."

"Nothing of the sort. He absolutely declined the job."

"Why?"

"Well--the marvellous boy informed me that he was too intimate with
the lady to write about her. At any rate with that noble impartiality
which distinguishes the utterances of _The Planet_."

"Steady, man. He _never_ told ye _that_!" said Mackinnon.

"I didn't say he _told_ me, I said he informed me."

"And whar's the differ'nce? I don't see it at all."

"Trepan him, trepan him."

Stables took out his penknife and indicated by dumb show a surgical
operation on Mackinnon's dome-like head.

"I gathered it," continued Maddox suavely, "from his manner. I culled
his young thought like a flower."

"Perhaps," Rankin suggested, "he was afraid of compromising Poppy."

"He might have left that subtle consideration to Pilkington."

"That was it. He scented Dicky's hand in it, and wasn't particularly
anxious to oblige him. The point of the joke is that he happens to owe
Dicky a great deal more than he can conveniently pay. That'll give you
some faint notion of the magnificence of his cheek."

Stables was impressed. He wondered what sort of young man it could be
who had the moral courage to oppose Dicky Pilkington at such a moment.
He could not have done it himself. Dicky Pilkington was the great and
mysterious power at the back of _The Planet_.

"But this isn't the end of it. I told him, for his future guidance and
encouragement, that he had mistaken cause and effect--that little
variety _artistes_, like other people, are not popular because they
are written about, but written about because they are popular--that
_The Planet_ is the organ of public opinion, not of private opinions;
in short, that he wasn't in it, at all. I thought I'd sat on him till
he was about flat--and the very next week he comes bounding in with
his _Saturnalia_, as he calls them."

"That was your moment. Why didn't you rise up in your majesty and
r-r-reject them?"

"Couldn't. They were too damned good." Maddox smiled at the
reminiscence. "I wasn't going to let him sign them, but he took the
wind out of my sails by stating beforehand that he didn't want
to--that if I didn't mind--_mind_, if you please--he'd very much
rather not. It's only the last week (when the _Saturnalia_ were
getting better and better)