He waved his hand gaily, and re-entering his carriage, was driven off at a furious pace through the drifting fog and rain. IX My publisher, John Morgeson,--the estimable individual who had first refused my book, and who now, moved by self-interest, was devoting his energies assiduously to the business of launching it in the most modern and approved style, was not like Shakespeare's _Cassio_, strictly 'an honourable man.' Neither was he the respectable chief of a long-established firm whose system of the cheating of authors, mellowed by time, had become almost sacred;--he was a 'new' man, with new ways, and a good stock of new push and impudence. All the same, he was clever, shrewd and diplomatic, and for some reason or other, had secured the favour of a certain portion of the press, many of the dailies and weeklies always giving special prominence to his publications over the heads of other far more legitimately dealing firms. He entered into a partial explanation of his methods, when, on the morning after my first meeting with the Earl of Elton and his daughter, I called upon him to inquire how things were going with regard to my book. "We shall publish next week,"--he said, rubbing his hands complacently, and addressing me with all the deference due to my banking account--"And as you don't mind what you spend, I'll tell you just what I propose to do. I intend to write out a mystifying paragraph of about some seventy lines or so, describing the book in a vague sort of way as '_likely to create a new era of thought_'--or, '_ere long everybody who is anybody will be compelled to read this remarkable work_,'--or '_as something that must be welcome to all who would understand the drift of one of the most delicate and burning questions of the time_.' These are all stock phrases, used over and over again by the reviewers,--there's no copyright in them. And the last one always 'tells' wonderfully, considering how old it is, and how often it has been made to do duty, because any allusion to a '_delicate and burning question_' makes a number of people think the novel must be improper, and they send for it at once!" He chuckled at his own perspicuity, and I sat silent, studying him with much inward amusement. This man on whose decision I had humbly and anxiously waited not so many weeks ago was now my paid tool,--ready to obey me to any possible extent for so much cash,--and I listened to him indulgently while he went on unravelling his schemes for the gratification of _my_ vanity, and the pocketing of _his_ extras. "The book has been splendidly advertised"--he went on; "It could not have been more lavishly done. Orders do not come in very fast yet--but they will,--they will. This paragraph of mine, which will take the shape of a 'leaderette,' I can get inserted in about eight hundred to a thousand newspapers here and in America. It will cost you,--say a hundred guineas--perhaps a trifle more. Do you mind that?"