woman　was　to　be　pitied。　　No　one　could　feel　more　sorry　for　her　than　Joan　herself。　　But　what　had　Madge　exactly　meant　by　those　words：　　that　she　could　〃see　her　doing　something　really　big；〃　if　she　thought　it　would　help　him？　　There　was　no　doubt　about　her　affection　for　him。　　It　was　almost　dog…like。　　And　the　child；　also！　　There　must　be　something　quite　exceptional　about　him　to　have　won　the　devotion　of　two　such　opposite　beings。　Especially　Hilda。　　It　would　be　hard　to　imagine　any　lengths　to　which　Hilda's　blind　idolatry　would　not　lead　her。
  She　ran　down　twice　to　Folkestone　during　the　following　week。　　Her　visits　made　her　mind　easier。　　Mrs。　Phillips　seemed　so　placid；　so　contented。　　There　was　no　suggestion　of　suffering；　either　mental　or　physical。
  She　dined　with　the　Greysons　the　Sunday　after；　and　mooted　the　question　of　the　coming　fight　with　Carleton。　　Greyson　thought　Phillips　would　find　plenty　of　journalistic　backing。　　The　concentration　of　the　Press　into　the　hands　of　a　few　conscienceless　schemers　was　threatening　to　reduce　the　journalist　to　a　mere　hireling；　and　the　better…class　men　were　becoming　seriously　alarmed。　He　found　in　his　desk　the　report　of　a　speech　made　by　a　well…known　leader　writer　at　a　recent　dinner　of　the　Press　Club。　　The　man　had　risen　to　respond　to　the　toast　of　his　own　health　and　had　taken　the　opportunity　to　unpack　his　heart。
  〃I　am　paid　a　thousand　a　year；〃　so　Greyson　read　to　them；　〃for　keeping　my　own　opinions　out　of　my　paper。　　Some　of　you；　perhaps；　earn　more；　and　others　less；　but　you're　getting　it　for　writing　what　you're　told。　　If　I　were　to　be　so　foolish　as　to　express　my　honest　opinion；　I'd　be　on　the　street；　the　next　morning；　looking　for　another　job。〃
  〃The　business　of　the　journalist；〃　the　man　had　continued；　〃is　to　destroy　the　truth；　to　lie；　to　pervert；　to　vilify；　to　fawn　at　the　feet　of　Mammon；　to　sell　his　soul　for　his　daily　bread。　　We　are　the　tools　and　vassals　of　rich　men　behind　the　scenes。　　We　are　the　jumping…jacks。　　They　pull　the　strings　and　we　dance。　　Our　talents；　our　possibilities；　our　lives　are　the　property　of　other　men。〃
  〃We　tried　to　pretend　it　was　only　one　of　Jack's　little　jokes；〃　explained　Greyson　as　he　folded　up　the　cutting；　〃but　it　wouldn't　work。　　It　was　too　near　the　truth。〃
  〃I　don't　see　what　you　are　going　to　do；〃　commented　Mary。　　〃So　long　as　men　are　not　afraid　to　sell　their　souls；　there　will　always　be　a　Devil's　market　for　them。〃
  Greyson　did　not　so　much　mind　there　being　a　Devil's　market；　provided　he　could　be　assured　of　an　honest　market　alongside；　so　that　a　man　could　take　his　choice。　　What　he　feared　was　the　Devil's　steady　encroachment；　that　could　only　end　by　the　closing　of　the　independent　market　altogether。　　His　remedy　was　the　introduction　of　the　American　trust　law；　forbidding　any　one　man　being　interested　in　more　than　a　limited　number　of　journals。
  〃But　what's　the　difference；〃　demanded　Joan；　〃between　a　man　owning　one　paper　with　a　circulation　of；　say；　six　millions；　or　owning　six　with　a　circulation　of　a　million　apiece？　　By　concentrating　all　his　energies　on　one；　a　man　with　Carleton's　organizing　genius　might　easily　establish　a　single　journal　that　would　cover　the　whole　field。〃
  〃Just　all　the　difference；〃　answered　Greyson；　〃between　Pooh　Bah　as　Chancellor　of　the　Exchequer；　or　Lord　High　Admiral；　or　Chief　Executioner；　whichever　he　preferred　to　be；　and　Pooh　Bah　as　all　the　Officers　of　State　rolled　into　one。　　Pooh　Bah　may　be　a　very　able　statesman；　entitled　to　exert　his　legitimate　influence。　　But；　after　all；　his　opinion　is　only　the　opinion　of　one　old　gentleman；　with　possible　prejudices　and　preconceived　convictions。　　The　Mikadoor　the　people；　according　to　localitywould　like　to　hear　the　views　of　others　of　his　ministers。　　He　finds　that　the　Lord　Chancellor　and　the　Lord　Chief　Justice　and　the　Groom　of　the　Bedchamber　and　the　Attorney…Generalthe　whole　entire　Cabinet；　in　short；　are　unanimously　of　the　same　opinion　as　Pooh　Bah。　　He　doesn't　know　it's　only　Pooh　Bah　speaking　from　different　corners　of　the　stage。　　The　consensus　of　opinion　convinces　him。　　One　statesman；　however　eminent；　might　err　in　judgment。　　But　half　a　score　of　statesmen；　all　of　one　mind！　　One　must　accept　their　verdict。〃
  Mary　smiled。　　〃But　why　shouldn't　the　good　newspaper　proprietor　hurry　up　and　become　a　multi…proprietor？〃　she　suggested。　　〃Why　don't　you　persuade　Lord　Sutcliffe　to　buy　up　three　or　four　papers；　before　they're　all　gone？〃
  〃Because　I　don't　want　the　Devil　to　get　hold　of　him；〃　answered　Greyson。
  〃You've　got　to　face　this　unalterable　law；〃　he　continued。　　〃That　power　derived　from　worldly　sources　can　only　be　employed　for　worldly　purposes。　　The　power　conferred　by　popularity；　by　wealth；　by　that　ability　to　make　use　of　other　men　that　we　term　organizationsooner　or　later　the　man　who　wields　that　power　becomes　the　Devil's　servant。　So　long　as　Kingship　was　merely　a　force　struggling　against　anarchy；　it　was　a　holy　weapon。　　As　it　grew　in　power　so　it　degenerated　into　an　instrument　of　tyranny。　　The　Church；　so　long　as　it　remained　a　scattered　body　of　meek；　lowly　men；　did　the　Lord's　work。　　Enthroned　at　Rome；　it　thundered　its　edicts　against　human　thought。　　The　Press　is　in　danger　of　following　precisely　the　same　history。　　When　it　wrote　in　fear　of　the　pillory　and　of　the　jail；　it　fought　for　Liberty。　　Now　it　has　become　the　Fourth　Estate；　it　fawnsas　Jack　Swinton　said　of　itat　the　feet　of　Mammon。　　My　Proprietor；　good　fellow；　allows　me　to　cultivate　my　plot　amid　the　wilderness　for　other　purposes　than　those　of　quick　returns。　　If　he　were　to　become　a　competitor　with　the　Carletons　and　the　Bloomfields；　he　would　have　to　look　upon　it　as　a　business　proposition。　　The　Devil　would　take　him　up　on　to　the　high　mountain；　and　point　out　to　him　the　kingdom　of　huge　circulations　and　vast　profits；　whispering　to　him：　　'All　this　will　I　give　thee；　if　thou　wilt　fall　down　and　worship　me。'　　I　don't　want　the　dear　good　fellow　to　be　tempted。〃
  〃Is　it　impossible；　then；　to　combine　duty　and　success？〃　questioned　Joan。
  〃The　combination　sometimes　happens；　by　chance；〃　admitted　Greyson。　〃But　it's　dangerous　to　seek　it。　　It　is　so　easy　to　persuade　ourselves　that　it's　our　duty　to　succeed。〃
  〃But　we　must　succeed　to　be　of　use；〃　urged　Mary。　　〃Must　God's　servants　always　remain　powerless？〃
  〃Powerless　to　rule。　　Powerful　only　to　serve；〃　he　answered。　〃Powerful　as　Christ　was　powerful；　not　as　Caesar　was　powerful　powerful　as　those　who　have　suffered　and　have　failed；　leaders　of　forlorn　hopespowerful　as　those　who　have　struggled　on；　despised　and　vilified；　not　as　those　of　whom　all　men　speak　wellpowerful　as　those　who　have　fought　lone　battles　and　have　died；　not　knowing　their　own　victory。　　It　is　those　that　serve；　not　those　that　rule；　shall　conquer。〃
  Joan　had　never　known　him　quite　so　serious。　　Generally　there　was　a　touch　of　irony　in　his　talk；　a　suggestion　of　aloofness　that　had　often　irritated　her。
  〃I　wish　you　would　always　be　yourself；　as　you　are　now；〃　she　said；　〃and　never　pose。〃
  〃Do　I　pose？〃　he　asked；　raising　his　eyebrows。
  〃That　shows　how　far　it　has　gone；〃　she　told　him；　〃that　you　don't　even　know　it。　　You　pretend　to　be　a　philosopher。　　But　you're　really　a　man。〃
  He　laughed。　　〃It　isn't　always　a　pose；〃　he　explained。　　〃It's　some　men's　way　of　saying：　　Thy　will　be　done。〃
  〃Ask　Phillips　to　come　and　see　me；〃　he　said。　　〃I　can　be　of　more　help；　if　I　know　exactly　his　views。〃
  He　walked　with　her　to　the　bus。　　They　passed　a　corner　house　that　he　had　more　than　once　pointed　out　to　her。　　It　had　belonged；　years　ago；　to　a　well…known　artist；　who　had　worked　out　a　wonderful　scheme　of　decoration　in　the　drawing…room。　　A　board　was　up；　announcing　that　the　house　was　for　sale。　　A　gas　lamp；　exactly　opposite；　threw　a　flood　of　light　upon　the　huge　white　lettering。
  Joan　stopped。　　〃Why；　it's　the　house　you　are　always　talking　about；〃　she　said。　　〃Are　you　thinking　of　taking　it？〃
  〃I　did　go　over　it；〃　he　answered。　　〃But　it　would　be　rather　absurd　for　just　Mary　and　me。〃
  She　looked　up　Phillips　at　the　House；　and　gave　him　Greyson's　message。　　He　had　just　returned　from　Folkestone；　and　was　worried。
  〃She　was　so　much　better　last　week；〃　he　explained。　　〃But　it　never　lasts。〃
  〃Poor　old　girl！〃　he　added。　　〃I　believe　she'd　have　been　happier　if　I'd　always　remained　plain　Bob　Phillips。〃
  Joan　had　promised　to　go　down　on　the　Friday；　but　finding；　on　the　Thursday　morning；　that　it　would　be　difficult；　decided　to　run　down　that　afternoon　instead。　　She　thought　at　first　of　sending　a　wire。　But　in　Mrs。　Phillips's　state　of　health；　telegrams　were　perhaps　to　be　avoided。　　It　could　make　no　difference。　　The　front　door　of　the　little　house　was　standing　half　open。　　She　called　down　the　kitchen　stairs　to　the　landlady；　but　received　no　answer。　　The　woman　had　probably　run　out　on　some　short　errand。　　She　went　up　the　stairs　softly。　　The　bedroom　door；　she　knew；　would　be　open。　　Mrs。　Phillips　had　a　feeling　against　being　〃shut　off；〃　as　she　called　it。　　She　meant　to　tap　lightly　and　walk　straight　in；　as　usual。　　But　what　she　saw　through　the　opening　caused　her　to　pause。　　Mrs。　Phillips　was　sitting　up　in　bed　with　her　box　of　cosmetics　in　front　of　her。　　She　was　sensitive　of　anyone　seeing　her　make…up；　and　Joan；　knowing　this；　drew　back　a　step。　　But　for　some　reason；　she　couldn't　help　watching。　Mrs。　Phillips　dipped　a　brush　into　one　of　the　compartments　and　then　remained　with　it　in　her　hand；　as　if　hesitating。　　Sud