“But could you get paper made so long?”
“To be sure,” he said; “the paper-mills make it in long strips that are cut up in sheets as they are finished. In my machine they would be cut up only when printed. Now, what do you say?”
“It’s like trying to read Greek the first time, Mr Hallett,” I said. “My head feels all in a muddle.”
“Out of which the light will come in time, my boy. But suppose I could make such a machine, Antony, what would you say then?”
“It would be grand!” I exclaimed.
“It would make a revolution in printing,” he cried enthusiastically. “Well, will you help me, Antony?” he said, with a smile.
“Help you! May I?”
“Of course. I shall be glad; only, remember, it is our secret.”
“You may trust me,” I said. “But it must be patented.”
“To be sure. All in good time.”