“Yes, the _Herald_,” answered the secretary, “it really doesn’t much matter,” he continued wearily, (he had been up most of the night) “if it wasn’t the _Herald_ it would be somebody else.” “We must pot ’em as they come,” answered the Premier grimly, “and the _Herald_ won’t publish that interview at any rate.” “Yes, let them publish it,” said the secretary.... “I’ll write it if you like.” “That’s what I mean,” said the Prime Minister. “I mean they won’t publish what people think they will.” “No,” said Evans, “they won’t.... He’s been shouting out of a window,” the secretary went on by way of news. The Prime Minister groaned. “What has he been shouting?” he breathed hoarsely. “Oh just insults, nothing important, but the police have complained. And late last night he pointed out Betswick, who was a little buffy, stumbling down the pavement--sitting down, some say--. He shouted from his window to a lot of people in the street that it was Betswick. And now Betswick is afraid of going to open the Nurses’ Home this afternoon.... It’s a damned shame!” ended the secretary, exploding. “What the devil are you to do with a man ... it’s like--it’s like--it’s like an anarchist with little packets of dynamite.” “Have you looked at the papers yet, Edward?” asked the Prime Minister. “Some of ’em,” answered his secretary gloomily. “Nothing in the _Times_?” “Oh no,” said Edward, “nothing in any of the eleven London papers on the official list.” “Do you think the others count?” “Well,” answered the secretary thoughtfully, “there are the two evening papers that have been making such a fuss about the Concessions in Burmah.” “Edward,” said the Prime Minister, “it’s a desperate remedy, but take the paper you have here, write out a note and get them to lunch. Not with me--with you. They’ll come.” “Lunch is no good,” said Edward. “Why not?” “Evening papers go to press in the morning.” “Do they indeed?” said the Prime Minister, with the first lively glance he had delivered since the beginning of this terrible debacle. “That’s really worth knowing! I never knew that.” He gazed into space, then suddenly waking up he said: “Why then, Edward, there’s no time to lose! Go and see them at once. Go and see them yourself, Edward.” “It isn’t much good,” said Edward. “I know one of them, and the other’s dotty.” “Never mind,” said the Prime Minister, “never mind. Do it somehow. Kill ’em if you must,” he added jocosely, and his secretary went. The Premier left his secretary’s room and mournfully approached his breakfast.