Without seeming as much overpowered as he expected, the girl prepared to enter the presence of greatness. But she was not in reality as calm as she appeared. The thunderous whirr of the printing-machines had almost bereft her of the capacity for thought, just at the moment when she wished to think clearly. Her nerves were twanging like the strings of a violin which is out of tune, and it was an intense relief to be shot up in the alarmingly rapid lift to a quieter region. The rumbling roar was deadened on Sir Edmund’s floor, and as the door of his private office closed on her, it was shut out altogether. "Miss Carthew, from Lord Northmuir," the famous editor-proprietor said. "I believe you have some interesting information for me." He smiled with a certain dry benignity, for Joan was very pretty, and he was, after all, a man. "I think I saw you downstairs." "I saw you, Sir Edmund." Joan’s manner was dignified now, rather than shy. "I trust you will not be angry, but within the last two hours everything has changed for me. Lord Northmuir, whom I know well through my cousin, Miss Mercy Milton, his ward (you may have heard of her; we are said to resemble each other), has now changed his mind about allowing the piece of information I meant for you to be published. He has forbidden his name to be used, but it was too late to stop that. I can only beg, for my cousin Miss Milton’s sake more than my own, that you will not let the fact come to his ears; if it should, she will suffer." "You need not fear that," Sir Edmund reassured her; "but if you have no information to give me, Miss--er----" "I had to come and explain why I hadn’t," Joan cut in. "I hope you won’t blame poor Mr. Mainbridge for putting you to this trouble. It isn’t his fault, and he doesn’t even know." "Who is Mr. Mainbridge? Oh, ah! yes, of course. Pray don’t regard it as a trouble. Quite the contrary. But unfortunately, I----" "You would say you are a very busy man," Joan threw into the editor’s suggestive pause. "I won’t take up much more of your time. But I want to say that, although I have nothing of value, as I hoped, to tell, I shall have later, if you will consent to engage me on your staff." Sir Edmund laughed. He evidently considered Joan a spoiled darling of Society with a new whim. "My dear young lady!" he exclaimed, "in what capacity, pray? We do not devote space to fashions, even in a Saturday edition. Would you come to us as a reporter, like your friend Mr. Mainbridge?" "As a special reporter," amended Joan. "I would undertake any mission of importance----"