Immediately afterwards he received his first instalment of proofs from Wisden and Evercreech. Correcting these proved a painful pleasure. Conquest's judgment coloured and discoloured every sheet. What was good—what was bad? For his life Mark was unable to criticise his own work. Some of the bits he had liked when he wrote them now seemed crude and trite. His dialogue, he decided, was fair, but the narrative lacked distinction. Before beginning another novel, he would study the best models in French and English. Meantime he would turn out a story or two. These were written, despatched to Conquest—and returned with a printed slip politely setting forth the editor's regret that they were unavailable. When he met Conquest some ten days later, the great man vouchsafed a few words.
"Sorry to return your stuff. We shall publish the book in October. Have you thought of a subject for another? You seem to have gripped conditions in the East End. How about a novel in rather lighter vein dealing with the adventures and misadventures of a millionaire who has turned philanthropist and wants to spend his pile in Stepney? Or—happy thought!—make your millionaire a millionairess—a good-looking spinster paddling her canoe through the slums. That would be capital. What do you say?"
"I'll think about it," said Mark hesitatingly. "I'm awfully obliged to you, Conquest."
"That's all right. By the way, I can use an article on your brother, two thousand words. Make it very personal, and secure good photographs of him and his church."
"But he mightn't like it, you know."
Conquest roared. "I say—that's immense—immense! Not like it? A popular preacher! Ha—ha—ha! Why, it's incense to 'em, man alive. Ask him, at any rate. If he doesn't jump, call me fool. Can you see him at once?"
"If you wish it."
Somehow, to Mark's disgust, Archibald did jump. The article appeared in a Church paper and led to an incident of much greater importance. Conquest wired to Mark to come up to town on business. Mark was given a capital luncheon at Dieudonne's restaurant, but not till the coffee was served did Conquest speak of the matter in hand.
"I suppose you know," he said carelessly, but keeping his eyes on Mark's, "that I pull many strings. Now this is between ourselves, in—the—strictest—confidence. I want to pump you. Bless you, it always pays to be frank. How do I stand with your brother? Does he like me?"
"I'm sure he does," said Mark warmly. At Conquest's desire he had introduced him to Archibald. Conquest had dined in Cadogan Place.