by Robert Barr
CHAPTER II. JENNIE HAS IMPORTANT CONFERENCES WITH TWO IMPORTANT EDITORS.
Mr. Hardwick was a determined-looking young man of about thirty-five,with a bullet head and closely-cropped black hair. He looked like astubborn, strong-willed person, and Miss Baxter's summing up of him wasthat he had not the appearance of one who could be coaxed or driveninto doing anything he did not wish to do. He held her card between hisfingers, and glanced from it to her, then down to the card again.
"Good afternoon, Mr. Hardwick," began Miss Baxter. "I don't know thatyou have seen any of my work, but I have written a good deal for some ofthe evening papers and for several of the magazines."
"Yes," said Hardwick, who was standing up preparatory to leaving hisoffice, and who had not asked the young woman to sit down; "your name isfamiliar to me. You wrote, some months since, an account of a personalvisit to the German Emperor; I forget now where it appeared."
"Oh, yes," said Miss Baxter; "that was written for the _SummerMagazine_, and was illustrated by photographs."
"It struck me," continued Hardwick, without looking at her, "that it wasan article written by a person who had never seen the German Emperor,but who had collected and assimilated material from whatever sourcepresented itself."
The young woman, in nowise abashed, laughed; but still the editor didnot look up.
"Yes," she admitted, "that is precisely how it was written. I never havehad the pleasure of meeting William II. myself."
"What I have always insisted upon in work submitted to me," growled theeditor in a deep voice, "is absolute accuracy. I take it that you havecalled to see me because you wish to do some work for this paper."
"You are quite right in that surmise also," answered Miss Jennie."Still, if I may say so, there was nothing inaccurate in my articleabout the German Emperor. My compilation was from thoroughly authenticsources, so I maintain it was as truthfully exact as anything that hasever appeared in the _Bugle_."
"Perhaps our definitions of truth might not quite coincide. However, ifyou will write your address on this card I will wire you if I have anywork--that is, any outside work--which I think a woman can do. Thewoman's column of the _Bugle_, as you are probably aware, is already ingood hands."
Miss Jennie seemed annoyed that all her elaborate preparations werethrown away on this man, who never raised his eyes nor glanced at her,except once, during their conversation.
"I do not aspire," she said, rather shortly, "to the position of editorof a woman's column. I never read a woman's column myself, and, unlikeMr. Grant Allen, I never met a woman who did."
She succeeded in making the editor lift his eyes towards her for thesecond time.
"Neither do I intend to leave you my address so that you may send a wireto me if you have anything that you think I can do. What I wish is asalaried position on your staff."
"My good woman," said the editor brusquely, "that is utterly impossible.I may tell you frankly that I don't believe in women journalists. Thearticles we publish by women are sent to this office from their ownhomes. Anything that a woman can do for a newspaper I have men who willdo quite as well, if not better; and there are many things that womencan't do at all which men must do. I am perfectly satisfied with mystaff as it stands, Miss Baxter."
"I think it is generally admitted," said the young woman, "that yourstaff is an exceptionally good one, and is most capably led. Still, Ishould imagine that there are many things happening in London, societyfunctions, for instance, where a woman would describe more accuratelywhat she saw than any man you could send. You have no idea how full ofblunders a man's account of women's dress is as a general rule, and ifyou admire accuracy as much as you say, I should think you would notcare to have your paper made a laughing-stock among society ladies, whonever take the trouble to write you a letter and show you where you arewrong, as men usually do when some mistake regarding their affairs ismade."
"There is probably something in what you say," replied the editor, withan air of bringing the discussion to a close. "I don't insist that I amright, but these are my ideas, and while I am editor of this paper Ishall stand by them, so it is useless for us to discuss the matterany further, Miss Baxter. I will not have a woman as a member of thepermanent staff of the _Bugle_."
For the third time he looked up at her, and there was dismissal in hisglance.
Miss Baxter said indignantly to herself, "This brute of a man hasn't theslightest idea that I am one of the best dressed women he has ever met."
But there was no trace of indignation in her voice when she said to himsweetly, "We will take that as settled. But if upon some other paper,Mr. Hardwick, I should show evidence of being as good a newspaperreporter as any member of your staff, may I come up here, and, withoutbeing kept waiting too long, tell you of my triumph?"
"You would not shake my decision," he said.
"Oh, don't say that," she murmured, with a smile. "I am sure youwouldn't like it if anyone called you a fool."
"Called me a fool?" said the editor sharply, drawing down his darkbrows. "I shouldn't mind it in the least."
"What, not if it were true? You know it would be true, if I could dosomething that all your clever men hadn't accomplished. An editor maybe a very talented man, but, after all, his mission is to see that hispaper is an interesting one, and that it contains, as often as possible,something which no other sheet does."
"Oh, I'll see to that," Mr. Hardwick assured her with resoluteconfidence.
"I am certain you will," said Miss Baxter very sweetly; "but now youwon't refuse to let me in whenever I send up my card? I promise you thatI shall not send it until I have done something which will make thewhole staff of the _Daily Bugle_ feel very doleful indeed."
For the first time Mr. Hardwick gave utterance to a somewhat harsh andmirthless laugh.
"Oh, very well," he said, "I'll promise that."
"Thank you! And good afternoon, Mr. Hardwick. I am _so_ much obligedto you for consenting to see me. I shall call upon you at this hourto-morrow afternoon."
There was something of triumph in her smiling bow to him, and as sheleft she heard a long whistle of astonishment in Mr. Hardwick's room.She hurried down the stairs, threw a bewitching glance at the Irishporter, who came out of his den and whispered to her,--
"It's all right, is it, mum?"
"More than all right," she answered. "Thank you very much indeed foryour kindness."
The porter preceded her out to the waiting hansom and held his arm sothat her skirt would not touch the wheel.
"Drive quickly to the Cafe Royal," she said to the cabman.
When the hansom drew up in front of the Cafe Royal, Miss Jennie Baxterdid not step put of it, but waited until the stalwart servitor in goldlace, who ornamented the entrance, hurried from the door to the vehicle."Do you know Mr. Stoneham?" she asked with suppressed excitement, "theeditor of the _Evening Graphite_? He is usually here playing dominoeswith somebody about this hour."
"Oh yes, I know him," was the reply. "I think he is inside at thismoment, but I will make certain."
In a short time Mr. Stoneham himself appeared, looking perhaps a trifledisconcerted at having his whereabouts so accurately ascertained.
"What a blessing it is," said Miss Jennie, with a laugh, "that we poorreporters know where to find our editors in a case of emergency."
"This is no case of emergency, Miss Baxter," grumbled Stoneham. "If it'snews, you ought to know that it is too late to be of any use for usto-day."
"Ah, yes," was the quick reply, "but what excellent time I am in withnews for to-morrow!"
"If a man is to live a long life," growled the disturbed editor, "hemust allow to-morrow's news to look after itself. Sufficient for the dayare the worries thereof."
"As a general rule that is true," assented the girl, "but I have a mostimportant piece of information for you that wouldn't wait, and in halfan hour from now you will be writing your to-morrow's leader, showingforth in terse and forcible language the many iniquities of th
e Board ofPublic Construction."
"Oh," cried the editor, brightening, "if it is anything to the discreditof the Board of Public Construction, I am glad you came."
"Well, that's not a bit complimentary to me. You should be glad in anycase; but I'll forgive your bad manners, as I wish you to help me.Please step into this hansom, because I have most startling intelligenceto impart--news that must not be overheard; and there is no place sosafe for a confidential conference as in a hansom driving through thestreets of London. Drive slowly towards the _Evening Graphite_ office,"she said to the cabman, pushing up the trap-door in the roof of thevehicle. Mr. Stoneham took his place beside her, and the cabman turnedhis horse in the direction indicated.
"There is little use in going to the office of the paper," saidStoneham; "there won't be anybody there but the watchman."
"I know, but we must go in some direction. We can't talk in front ofthe Cafe Royal, you know. Now, Mr. Stoneham, in the first place, I wantfifty golden sovereigns. How am I to get them within half an hour?"
"Good gracious! I don't know; the banks are all closed, but there is aman at Charing Cross who would perhaps change a cheque for me; there isa cheque-book at the office."
"Then that's all right and settled. Mr. Stoneham, there's been somejuggling with the accounts in the office of the Board of PublicConstruction."
"What! a defalcation?" cried Stoneham eagerly.
"No; merely a shifting round."
"Ah," said the editor, in a disappointed tone.
"Oh, you needn't say 'Ah.' It's very serious; it is indeed. The accountsare calculated to deceive the dear and confiding public, to whoseinterests all the daily papers, morning and evening, pretend to bedevoted. The very fact of such deception being attempted, Mr. Stoneham,ought to call forth the anger of any virtuous editor."
"Oh, it does, it does; but then it would be a difficult matter to prove.If some money were gone, now----"
"My dear sir, the matter is already proved, and quite ripe for yourenergetic handling of it; that's what the fifty pounds are for. Thissum will secure for you--to-night, mind, not to-morrow--a statementbristling with figures which the Board of Construction cannot deny. Youwill be able, in a stirring leading article, to express the horror youundoubtedly feel at the falsification of the figures, and your sterndelight in doing so will probably not be mitigated by the fact that noother paper in London will have the news, while the matter will beso important that next day all your beloved contemporaries will becompelled to allude to it in some shape or other."
"I see," said the editor, his eyes glistening as the magnitude of theidea began to appeal more strongly to his imagination. "Who makes thisstatement, and how are we to know that it is absolutely correct?"
"Well, there is a point on which I wish to inform you before going anyfurther. The statement is not to be absolutely correct; two orthree errors have been purposely put in, the object being to throwinvestigators off the track if they try to discover who gave the news tothe Press; for the man who will sell me this document is a clerk in theoffice of the Board of Public Construction. So, you see, you are gettingthe facts from the inside."
"Is he so accustomed to falsifying accounts that he cannot get over thehabit even when preparing an article for the truthful Press?"
"He wants to save his own situation, and quite rightly too, so he hasput a number of errors in the figures of the department over whichhe has direct control. He has a reputation for such accuracy that heimagines the Board will never think he did it, if the figures pertainingto his department are wrong even in the slightest degree."
"Quite so. Then we cannot have the pleasure of mentioning his name, andsaying that this honest man has been corrupted by his association withthe scoundrels who form the Board of Public Construction?"
"Oh, dear, no; his name must not be mentioned in any circumstances, andthat is why payment is to be made in sovereigns rather than by bankcheque or notes."
"Well, the traitor seems to be covering up his tracks rathereffectually. How did you come to know him?"
"I don't know him. I've never met him in my life; but it came to myknowledge that one of the morning papers had already made all its plansfor getting this information. The clerk was to receive fifty pounds forthe document, but the editor and he are at present negotiating, becausethe editor insists upon absolute accuracy, while, as I said, the manwishes to protect himself, to cover his tracks, as you remarked."
"Good gracious!" cried Stoneham, "I didn't think the editor of anymorning paper in London was so particular about the accuracy of what heprinted. The pages of the morning sheets do not seem to reflect thatanxiety."
"So, you see," continued Miss Jennie, unheeding his satirical comment,"there is no time to be lost; in fact, I should be on my way now towhere this man lives."
"Here we are at the office, and I shall just run in and write a chequefor fifty pounds, which we can perhaps get cashed somewhere," cried theeditor, calling the hansom to a halt and stepping out.
"Tell the watchman to bring me a London Directory," said the girl, andpresently that useful guardian came out with the huge red volume, whichMiss Baxter placed on her knees, and, with a celerity that comes of longpractice, turned over the leaves rapidly, running her finger quicklydown the H column, in which the name "Hazel" was to be found. At lastshe came to one designated as being a clerk in the office of the Boardof Public Construction, and his residence was 17, Rupert Square,Brixton. She put this address down in her notebook and handed back thevolume to the waiting watchman, as the editor came out with the chequein his hand.
The shrewd and energetic dealer in coins, whose little office stands atthe exit from Charing Cross Station, proved quite willing to oblige theeditor of the _Evening Graphite_ with fifty sovereigns in exchange forthe bit of paper, and the editor, handing to Miss Jennie the envelopecontaining the gold, saw her drive off for Brixton, while he turned, notto resume his game of dominoes at the cafe, but to his office, to writethe leader which would express in good set terms the horror he felt atthe action of the Board of Public Construction.