Trial and Error by Anthony Berkeley Read Free Book Online

by a man who can say just twice as much in a quarter of the space. Or else they know that the public likes value for its money and confuse value with verbiage. Damn it, it’s time someone pricked the bubble, isn’t it?”
    â€œThat’s all very well, young fellow,” replied Ferrers, unperturbed by this outburst. “But there are ways of pricking it without using an axe. After all, you don’t need a butcher’s cleaver to burst a bubble. If I printed that, I should get a dozen letters from dear old ladies the next morning saying how unfair it is to attack poor Mr Firkin’s book that he’d worked so hard to write, when he’d never done anything to you, and can’t I get a reviewer with no axe of his own to grind.”
    â€œBut I haven’t any axe to grind!” foamed the reviewer.
    â€œI know that,” soothed Ferrers. “But they don’t.”
    Mr Todhunter picked a book almost at random from the shelves and crept out of the room. As he went, he heard Mr Byle’s excited voice behind him:
    â€œVery well, I resign. Curse your old ladies. I don’t care a hoot about them. If you won’t let me review honestly, I resign.”
    Mr Todhunter was not impressed. Mr Byle resigned with fair regularity every Wednesday afternoon, if he happened to see his copy in process of being cut. If not, he forgot what he had written and remained happy. In any case the difficulty pleaded so feelingly by Ferrers of finding another reviewer worthy of the London Review at such short notice invariable caused Mr Byle to soften his heart and agree to remain for just one more week, and the process was then repeated all over again.
    The first requisite for a literary editor is tact. The second and third are tact too.
    6
    Mr Todhunter was acting with unusual cunning.
    He wanted to find out more about Ogilvie’s dismissal; and though Ferrers would not tell him, Mr Todhunter thought he knew where he might pick up a little gossip. He therefore made his way to the assistant editor’s room.
    Leslie Wilson was a sociable young man with literary intentions of his own. He shared a room with the musical editor, but the latter was rarely in it. To Mr Todhunter’s invitation that he should come and drink a cup of tea in the restaurant at the top of the building he agreed with pleased promptitude. Young Wilson had respect for few people outside Ferrers and the editor in chief, but Mr Todhunter, with his slightly spinsterish manners and donnish mind, had always impressed him; though Mr Todhunter, who was by way of being alarmed himself before Wilson’s competence and youth, would have been much astonished to hear it.
    They took the lift, and Mr Todhunter disposed his lightly covered bones on a hard chair. To the waitress he was firm upon the matter of China tea, with so many spoonfuls to the pot and no more. Wilson professed his eagerness to eat and drink exactly what Mr Todhunter thought of eating and drinking.
    They then discussed the book pages for eight minutes.
    At the end of that time Mr Todhunter introduced the name of Ogilvie and was gratified to notice a distinct reaction on the part of his companion.
    â€œIt’s a damned shame,” said young Wilson hotly.
    â€œYes, but what is the cause of his being dismissed so unexpectedly?” Mr Todhunter poured out the tea with care and pushed the sugar basin across to his guest. It was early, and the two had the room to themselves. “I should have thought he was such a competent man.”
    â€œHe is competent. One of the best leader writers we’ve ever had. That hasn’t anything to do with his going.”
    â€œDear me, then what had?”
    â€œOh, it’s all part and parcel of the same game. Ogilvie got the boot because he wouldn’t knuckle under to Fisher.”
    â€œFisher? I don’t think I’ve heard of him before. Who is he?”
    â€œHe’s a nasty piece of work,”