Venables learned that Crevequer was a journalist.

'What's your paper?'

'That.' Tommy indicated Marchese Peppino on the table; it came out that day.

'Oh.'

Venables just glanced at it; he showed no desire to inspect it more closely; possibly he knew enough about it already. His clever face was scrupulously devoid of expression.

'I chiefly do sketches,' Tommy elaborated. 'You know the sort of thing? They aren't funny, not a bit; but they sell. Oh, I write for it, too, of course; and that's funnier, rather. Novelle in corto, you know; we have the news in, as much as if we were anybody; combine instruction with amusement, don't you know.'

Venables knew quite well.

'I wonder,' he thought afterwards, 'why he shoved it down my throat like that. Mere cheek, perhaps, or to show he didn't mind, or to warn me off at once in case I di. . . Read More