It was naturally not without difficulty that I won my way to the presence of so busy and influential a publicist. A man who spends his whole time in instructing the readers of so many different papers in the delicate art of discerning the best and ignoring the rest cannot have much margin for inquisitive strangers. However, I succeeded in penetrating to his sanctum and, while waiting for the lion to appear, had an opportunity to look round. It was severely furnished--obviously the room of a great thinker. I noticed on the desk, which was covered with paper and note-books, a copy of Roget's _Thesaurus_ and Taylor's _Natural History of Enthusiasm_. With two such works one can, of course, go far. On the wall were the mottoes, "We needs must love the highest when we see it," and (from _The Bellman_) "What I tell you three times is true." I noticed two portraits also: one was of a delightful grande dame who might have graced a pavane in the days of Louis Quinze, inscribed to her "fellow-worker in the great cause, from Madame de Boccage," and another was the photograph of a gay young Frenchman in English clothes, signed "To mon cher colleague from 'is sincere friend Alphonse." There were also three telephones on the table and several typewriters here and there. A moment later the wizard came in--a tall scholarly-looking figure, with all the stigmata of the great thinker beneath one of the highest brows in Europe. "And what," he asked, bowing with perfect courtesy, "can I do for you?" "I have come hoping for the privilege of an interview," I said. "But why," he replied with charming diffidence, "should you interview me? Why am I thus honoured?" "Because you are a very remarkable person," I replied. "You are the only journalist who can contribute the same articles regularly to _The Pall Mall_, _The Westminster_ and I don't know to how many other papers besides. That is a feat in itself. You are the only journalist who always has the same subject." He admitted these fine performances. "So I should like to ask you a few questions," I continued. "The public is naturally interested in the personality of so widely read an author. May I know how you obtained your amazing command of words? Your fluency?" "I have ever made a study of the finest writers," he said. "From Moses to De Courville, I have read them all. These studies and constant intercourse with the brainiest Americans I can meet have made me what I am." "But your certainty in discrimination," I said--"how did you acquire that? Most of us are so doubtful of ourselves." "I never am," he replied; "I am sure. One thing at a time is my theory. Concentrate on one thing and forget all the rest. In other words, trust to elimination. That's what I do. Having found something that I know to be good I instantly eliminate all thought of the existence of rival claimants and concentrate on that discovery and its exploitation."