"Not quite intense enough," he said--"not alarming. I want the _Court Journal_ to be feared as well as loved. Let's try something more hard-hitting." And he went down on his knees again. After sucking the blue pencil for some time, he began writing again busily. "How will this do?" he said-- "WAYNE'S WONDERFUL VICTORY." "I suppose," he said, looking up appealingly, and sucking the pencil--"I suppose we couldn't say 'wictory'--'Wayne's wonderful wictory'? No, no. Refinement, Pally, refinement. I have it." "WAYNE WINS. ASTOUNDING FIGHT IN THE DARK. _The gas-lamps in their courses fought against Buck._" "(Nothing like our fine old English translation.) What else can we say? Well, anything to annoy old Buck;" and he added, thoughtfully, in smaller letters-- "Rumoured Court-martial on General Buck." "Those will do for the present," he said, and turned them both face downwards. "Paste, please." The Paladium, with an air of great terror, brought the paste out of an inner room. The King slabbed it on with the enjoyment of a child messing with treacle. Then taking one of his huge compositions fluttering in each hand, he ran outside, and began pasting them up in prominent positions over the front of the office. "And now," said Auberon, entering again with undiminished vivacity--"now for the leading article." He picked up another of the large strips of wall-paper, and, laying it across a desk, pulled out a fountain-pen and began writing with feverish intensity, reading clauses and fragments aloud to himself, and rolling them on his tongue like wine, to see if they had the pure journalistic flavour.