"One moment, Rake," interrupted the knight testily, "let me talk. I want to make it very clear to you why it is absolutely necessary for the Duke to be cleared out—did you speak, Smith?" Mr. Smith did speak: he had an important statement to make and saw his opportunity. Unfortunately his introduction was not happily framed. "I said the lore—if a man acts cont’ry to the lore he’s done himself," said Mr. Smith solemnly, "you can’t take liberties with the lore, duke or no duke. If you catch hold of the lore by the collar it’ll turn round and bite you. Now it happens——" "Be good enough to withhold your comments until I have completed my remarks," said Sir Harry with asperity, "I know all that it is necessary to know concerning the legal situation: I did not," he added pointedly, "ask you to meet me to discuss an aspect of the situation upon which I have been already advised—by competent authorities." "Now that is very true," commented Mr. R. B. Rake in a tone of wondering surprise, as though Sir Harry’s remark had come in the light of a revelation. "I know," said Sir Harry, "that I cannot eject this person without complicated legal proceedings, and I had thought that by the aid of our good friend Rake we might have shamed him out of the district—but he is meeting us on our own grounds. He is starting a newspaper." "I give it a month," said Mr. Rake with conviction, "I’ve seen these mushroom growths: there was the _Blackheath Eagle_—run by a man named Titty—lasted two issues; there was the _Brockley Buzzard_—lasted one; _Catford and Eltham Indicator_—never came out at all!" He smiled a tired smile. "You may be sure that this new paper will last just as long as the Duke desires it to last," said Sir Harry, "but that is beside the question; you know the exact position; you are men of affairs acquainted with the complexities of suburban life, I desire to rid Brockley of this person. How am I to do it?" Mr. R. B. Rake pinched his thick lips thoughtfully. "I think a leader on Democratic ideals, bringing in the Duke as an oppressor of the people—" "You can’t do that," said Sir Harry brusquely, "he subscribes to the football club." "How about an imaginary interview. ’A talk with the D—— de Mont——r?" suggested Rake. "Or a little parody on Julius Caesar, satirically reminding the people of their ingratitude: like this: "You hard hearts, you cruel men of Lee, Knew ye not Tanneur! Many a time and oft Have you climbed up to walls and battlements, To towers and windows, yea, to chimney pots To see great Tanneur pass——" "Stuff and nonsense!" said Sir Harry wrathfully. "Nobody has ever climbed up a chimney to see me; nobody knows me in Lewisham." Mr. Rake protested. "Nobody knows me I tell you: I’ve addressed meetings there on Free Trade and all that sort of thing, but I haven’t a single acquaintance, except my wretched sister-in-law and her annoying daughter—and what the dooce does Shakespeare say about Tanneur?"