The member for Blackhampton East had much to say to Sir Munt, and he said it cogently. The two men were singularly unlike. Endor, a highly civilized man of liberal ideas, was consumed with a desire to leave the world a little better than he found it. Sir Josiah, on the other hand, had not been born to social advantages. Entirely self-educated he had made his way by mother wit and force of will; but like so many of his kind, to whom life had brought prosperity, he too, had a regard for the body politic. In Sir Munt the vein of idealism which ennobled John Endor was conspicuously lacking. He had seen too much of the ugly side of life to have any great hopes of human nature. All the same he was a good citizen and a very honest man. Rough he might be, on the surface, but his hand was often in his pocket; and he grudged neither time nor trouble in grappling with the eternal problem of the Under Dog. “You tell me, Mr. Endor,” said Sir Munt, looking at his visitor in what he would have himself described as “an old-fashioned way,” “you tell me, sir, that the Stunt Press has behind it a ring of capitalists, with one man at its head, who is determined to become the dictator of this country.” “I do,” said John Endor. “Well, now,” said Blackhampton’s Chief Magistrate, “I don’t believe that to be possible. One man--I don’t care how clever--can’t run a country like this.” “Saul Hartz steadily keeps that end in view. And his Trust is now organized in such a wonderful way that in the near future anything may happen. You see the Machine, as one may call it, of which this man Hartz is the linchpin has now a finger in every pie. A child can hardly buy a packet of pins without its permission. Its great opportunity came with the famine in paper and the world shortage in raw materials, which Saul Hartz was able to foresee. No one questions his power of looking ahead although he has paid a long price for it to the Devil. It has enabled him to corner, among other essential commodities, the inadequate supplies of news print. And when some years ago the crisis arose in the newspaper world, the entire British press had to make its choice--each individual journal, no matter what its traditions, must either enter the Ring on Saul Hartz’s terms or close down. The best of them preferred to close down. One or two carried on and still do so with the help of private backers. But they are no more than voices crying in the wilderness and I am assured, by those who know, that in every case they are heavy losers financially. To begin with, you see, running a newspaper is no longer a business proposition for anybody.” Sir Josiah agreed. “For some time past I have been given to understand that the cost of paper and printing is prohibitive. Tatlow has to charge fourpence a day for the Blackhampton _Monitor_.” “That’s because the _Monitor_ is outside the Ring.” “Quite so. And it’s about a quarter as good as the Blackhampton _Mercury_ which charges three halfpence.”