Part 23 (1/2)

”I'll start directly the plates have gone down to the foundry and the men are off, just keeping one hand to see to the gas-engine.”

”And, Burness, lock up the galley safely when you come down with the proof.”

”I'll do it, sir,” and the great man--indispensable, and earning his six hundred a year--went away with the precious papers.

”That is perfectly safe with Burness,” said Spence, as the foreman compositor retired. ”He will make no mistakes either. He is a capital Greek scholar, corrects the proof-readers themselves often.”

”Yes,” answered Ommaney, ”I know. I shall leave everything in his hands.

Then late to-morrow night, just before the forms go to the foundry, I shall shove the whole thing in before any one knows anything about it, and nothing can get round to any other office. Burness will know about it beforehand, and he'll be ready to break up a whole page for this stuff. Of course, as far as leaders go and comment, I shall be guided very much by the result of my interview to-night and others to-morrow morning. I shall send off several cables before dawn to Palestine and elsewhere.”

Once more the editor began to pace up and down the room, thinking rapidly, decisively, deeply. The slim, fragile body was informed with power by the splendid brain which animated it.

The rather languid, silent man was utterly changed. Here one could see the strength and force of the personality which directed and controlled the second, perhaps the first, most powerful engine of public opinion in the world. The millionaires who paid this frail-looking, youthful man an enormous sum to direct their paper for them knew what they were about. They had bought one of the finest living executive brains and made it a potentate among its fellows. This man who, when he was not at the office, or holding some hurried colloquy with one of the rulers of the world, was asleep in a solitary flat at Kensington, knew that he had an accepted right to send a message to Downing Street, such as he had lately done. No one knew his face--no one of the great outside public; his was hardly even a name to be recognised in pa.s.sing, yet he, and Spence, and Folliott Farmer could shake a continent with their words.

And though all knew it, or would at least have realised it had they ever given it a thought, the absolute self-effacement of journalism made it a matter of no moment to any of them.

While Englishmen read their dicta, and unconsciously incorporated them into their own p.r.o.nouncements, mouthing them in street, market, and forum, these men slept till the busy day was over, and once more with the setting of the sun stole out to their almost furtive and yet tremendous task.

Every now and then Ommaney strode to the writing-table and made a rapid note on a sheet of paper.

At last he turned to Spence.

”I am beginning to have our line of action well marked out in my brain,”

he said. ”The thing is grouping itself very well. I am beginning to see my way. Now about you, Spence. Of course this thing is yours. At any rate you brought it here. Later on, of course, we shall show our grat.i.tude in some substantial way. That will depend upon the upshot of the whole thing. Meanwhile, you will be quite wasted in London. I and Farmer and Wilson can deal with anything and everything here. Of course I would rather have you on the spot, but I can use you far better elsewhere.”

”Then?” said Spence.

”You must go to Jerusalem at once. Start for Paris to-morrow morning at nine; you'd better go round to your chambers and pack up now and then come back here till it's time to start. You can sleep _en route_. I shall be here till breakfast-time, and I can give you final instructions.”

He used the telephone once more and his secretary came in.

”Mr. Spence starts for Palestine to-morrow morning, Marriott,” he said.

”He is going straight through to Jerusalem as fast as may be. Oblige me by getting out a route for him at once, marking all the times for steamers and trains, etc., in a clear scheme for Mr. Spence to take with him. Be very careful with the Continental timetables indeed. If you can see any delay anywhere which will be likely to occur, go down to Cook's early in the morning and make full inquiries. If it is necessary, arrange for any special trains that may be necessary. Mr. Spence must not be delayed a day. Also map out various points on the journey, with the proper times, where we can telegraph instructions to Mr. Spence. Go down to Mr. Woolford and ask him for a hundred pounds in notes and give them to Mr. Spence. You will arrange about the usual letter of credit during the day and wire Mr. Spence at Paris after lunch.”

The young man went out to do his part in the great organisation which Ommaney controlled.

”Then you'll be back between three and four?” Ommaney said.

”Yes, I'll go and pack at once,” Spence answered. ”My pa.s.sport from the Foreign Office is all right now.”

He rose to go, vigorous, and with an inexpressible sense of relief at the active prospect before him. There would be no time for haunting thought, for personal fears yet. He was going, himself, to the very heart of things, to see and to gain personal knowledge of these events which were shadowing the world.

The door opened as he rose and Folliott Farmer strode in. With him was a tall, distinguished man of about five-and-thirty; he was in evening dress and rather bald.

It was Lord Trelyon, the Prime Minister's private secretary.

”I thought I would come myself with Mr. Farmer, Mr. Ommaney,” he said, shaking hands cordially. ”Lord ---- will see you. He tells me to say that if it is absolutely imperative he will see you. I suppose there is no doubt of that?”