“Of that I am convinced,” I said, “and it is a view which I have often thought of advancing to Berlin. Believe me, Mr. Heigl, I have not neglected the press. There is scarcely a newspaper man in Fleet Street whom I do not know. I can tell you their circulations, the family history of their editors, the names and records of their principal correspondents.” He interrupted me with a little gesture. “I am delighted to hear this,” he said, “I had no idea that you had taken the matter up. In fact, they thought that you were unacquainted with the personnel of the newspapers.” I smiled a little bitterly. “Wilhelmstrasse is sometimes a little unjust,” I said, quietly and sadly. “Now, what would you say the circulation of the _Post-Herald_ was?” asked Mr. Heigl. It was an unfortunate and tactless question to ask at the moment, but I replied with readiness. “I cannot tell you until I have consulted my books. There are so many newspapers in London and one cannot possibly keep their circulations in one’s head.” I could see he was a little impressed, and later he asked: “Can you suggest a man to act as go-between? Neither you nor I can buy the paper, but if we could only get hold of a good substantial fellow, a bit of a crank preferably, we could easily hide ourselves behind a bank and a lawyer and complete the sale.” I knitted my brows and compressed my lips. “For the moment I cannot,” I said. “This is much too important a matter to be settled off-hand.” To tell the truth, gentle reader, since my making the acquaintance of Mister Haynes, I had steered clear of journalists, and the only one I knew well enough to speak to was an old gentleman in a top hat who used to stand at the corner of Salisbury Square, and borrow half-crowns from me. Even his name I did not know, but I felt with my usual good fortune and perseverance, I should not be long in finding the right kind of man. It would not be true to say that I did not understand the British press, or that I had not given it a great deal of thought. In my humble way I have been a contributor to English journalism, and my letters, signed “True Patriot,” “Mother of Six,” and other _noms de guerre_, have appeared in newspapers of almost every colour. The British newspaper is remarkable for its stupidity and ignorance. I do not think that even the best friends of English journalism will dispute this fact. _It is a fact which I cannot too clearly emphasize, that there is not a single London newspaper edited by a professor. Only two of the London editors have an educational degree, and none has been in the army or the navy._