Sam began by congratulating himself on the good fortune that had been his in having been the school-fellow of the distinguished Mr. Adams. Adams gazed hard at Sam through his austere pince-nez and was observed perceptibly to start. “Gad,” he was thinking, “it’s that lout, the porter’s son.” But he liked Sam’s flattery very well. Sam, it appeared, had been so deeply impressed by Mr. Adams’ admirable, indeed eloquent and moving address, and by the chairman’s very just eulogy of it, that he thought it would be a tremendous pity if so arresting, so well-written a paper failed to reach a wider audience than that before which it had been read. They had been waiting for this paper; its appeal was wide; the urgency of its need, instinct in every word of it, was emphasized by the chairman’s remarks. He had, therefore, a practical proposal to make. The paper ought to be printed, and if Mr. Adams could spare him a few moments after the meeting, Sam hoped that he would let him arrange the matter. He sat down amongst great applause. Under its cover Stewart whispered: “You inimitable ass!” Sam looked at him in pained surprise. “I want to see that paper in print,” he declared indignantly. The debate meandered in the usual futile way. Few had anything to say, but many liked the sound of their own voices and indulged their preference at length, till both speakers and talkers had taken their innings and Sam was able to go up to the platform. Peter had not changed his mind and was complimenting Adams in his simple, charming way. It ought, no doubt, to have made Adams thoroughly ashamed of himself, but it did not. It hardened his cynicism so that, when Sam came up, all he was thinking was: “I’ve gulled the parson. Now to bounce the porter’s son.” “How are you, Branstone?” he asked. “Glad to meet you again.” “And I you,” said Sam. They shook hands. “Have you had time to think of what I proposed?” “As a matter of fact,” said Adams, which is the usual way of beginning a lie, “I’d thought of sending my little paper to one of the Reviews--the _Fortnightly_ or the _Contemporary_.” “Excellent,” said Peter. Sam could have kicked him. “I venture to differ,” he said. “The chief object should be to reach as wide a public as possible. My own idea was to do it by itself in the form of a----” he was going to say “pamphlet,” but altered it to “brochure.” He thought it sounded more attractive. “In the heavy reviews it would be read by comparatively few, and it would not stand alone as in a brochure. It would take its place along with other articles. And I have heard that contributors to the reviews are not paid highly.” Adams had not thought of payment at all, but he thought of it now, with zest. He was rich, but the idea of despoiling the porter’s son, who had had the assurance to go to school with him, struck him as the crowning move in a jolly game. This was, transcendently, his night for winning.