"Now what do you want?" he asked, standing with his back to the door. "I want to see Mr. Walsh, please." "On what business?" "It's personal--" began John. "Perhaps so--but he must know. You want to write for the paper I suppose?" "You've guessed it, sir,--but do let me see him," John pleaded. "He's engaged with the chief reporter at present--but he will see you soon, if you're patient." He then left the room by another door. John looked out of the window, down across the flat top of temporary buildings, and saw the traffic surging along Fleet Street. He was engrossed in the spectacle when his benefactor re-entered and seated himself in the revolving chair before the littered desk. "The editor will see you now," he said. John jumped up. "Oh, thank you sir," he cried, and walked toward the door. "In here!" said the man, waving a hand for John to resume his seat. "I am Mr. Walsh--though you may have expected a gentleman." "Oh!" cried John, and collapsed in confusion. "Mr. Cane tells me you are an enterprising young man. I see you are an obstinate one. They are both qualities required on a newspaper. I'm sorry we've no vacancies. The principle on which a newspaper is staffed is that we always have more men than we can employ--for emergencies and for weeding out. You have no experience?" "No sir, but I--" "Don't worry, experience is unnecessary to any but duffers. You look sharp. Leave your address with my secretary. If a vacancy occurs--" "But it won't sir." "How do you know?" "I know that's the way every unsatisfactory interview ends," said John, grimly, more desperate than insolent. Mr. Walsh got up and crossed to the mantelpiece. "How old are you?" "Nearly twenty, sir. You see, I must earn a living, my bit of money won't last long. That has nothing to do with you, but I know you will be glad to have me when it is too late." The editor smiled. "You believe in yourself, and you'll succeed. But I can't take you on. I'll attach you, however. You can do a few theatres, and art galleries and perhaps the literary editor can give you a little work." "Oh, thank you sir." "And one day we may be able to put you on the reporting staff." "On what basis am I paid?" asked John. "For what you do." "And how much is that?" "Depends on the chief reporter. It's all I can offer you, it's a chance." "I'll take it, thank you." John rose. "See Mr. Merritt before you go." He held out his hand. "And I wish you luck."