"The thing to do," said Mrs. Eames, brandishing a dripping cloth, "is to get names that advertise themselves."
Hinton took the fork from her gently and wiped it with Gladys's dirty cloth.
"Quite so, madam."
"If you get the proper names," said Mrs. Eames, "the newspapers will put in paragraphs about them without being paid. That's what my niece says."
"Having lived in many of the best houses in England," said Hinton, "I may say that I am aware of the advertisement value of our aristocracy."
"It's not only the aristocracy. Politicians are just as good. Actresses are probably better. Even authors—there are one or two authors——"
"I thought, madam," said Hinton, "that we might begin by securing the name of the bishop of the diocese."
Mrs. Eames sniffed. The bishop was a man of unblemished integrity, of kindly disposition, of respectable scholarship, but he did not strike her as having what Hinton described as "advertisement value." He had never denied the truth of any article in the Apostles' Creed. He did not preach in Methodist Chapels, or if he did made no public boast about it. He had never prosecuted any of his clergy for excessive devotion to catholicism. These are the only ways in which an ecclesiastic can attract public attention to himself, that is to say the only ways of acquiring "advertisement value."
"I don't see," said Mrs. Eames, "that the bishop would be much good to us."