Amongst other things he was the proprietor of a weekly newspaper published in Stockholm. All this he told me within the first hour of our meeting; in fact, on the way up from an East Coast port to whither I had gone to meet him. “You must understand, sir,” he said with great affability, which I need hardly tell you I returned, since he was the trusted agent of my beloved country and was, moreover, a man who might be able to put a few things in my way. One never knows when one requires the help of a man of this description or, as we say in Germany, “Don’t refuse the carter the tyre, one day the wheel may be yours.” To resume the record of our conversation. “You understand, sir,” he said, “that I am a citizen of a neutral state and, therefore, I can take no active part in any propaganda designed to assist Germany.” “That is understood, excellent sir,” I replied, “and, believe me, I will not embarrass you to the smallest extent by requesting your assistance.” He inclined his head graciously. “There are certain people in Berlin whom I have recently had the pleasure of meeting. They are anxious that in this great world war the German view shall not be entirely lost sight of.” It was my turn to nod. “The English press is not exactly friendly or inclined even to print the German point of view, save to ridicule it.” “The English, or British press, my dear sir,” I said warmly, “is a Government press. Every evening, as is well known, the Government send every newspaper the outlines of the leading article which they will write. So cunningly contrived are those leaders, that in some of them they criticize the Government, and nobody outside the office would realize that all those articles are written by a special band of writers who work day and night in Downing Street.” He seemed interested at this news which was well known to me and to many of my friends. “But I interrupted you,” I said, “pray forgive me.” “In Berlin,” Mr. Heigl went on, “it is thought that an excellent opportunity exists either for founding or for purchasing a newspaper. It is understood that the _Post-Herald_ is for sale.” “That is so,” I said nodding. I did not know it before, but I took his word for it. We Germans can never be caught napping. “The price that is asked,” Mr. Heigl went on, consulting a little note-book which he drew from his waistcoat pocket, “is £100,000, that is to say, two million marks. It is a paper which has had a great deal of influence in the past but seems to have fallen away gradually until it has got into very low water indeed. We believe that if we found the right man and spent a little money the paper could be revived to its former prestige.”