As soon as Will had disappeared Nell turned to Greybrooke.
'Mr. Greybrooke,' she said, speaking rapidly in a voice so low that it was a compliment to him in itself, 'there is something I should like you to do for me.'
The captain flushed with pleasure.
'There is nothing I wouldn't do for you,' he stammered.
'I want you,' continued Miss Meredith, with a most vindictive look on her face, 'to find out for me who wrote a book review in to-day's Mirror, and to—to—oh, to thrash him.'
'All right,' said the captain, rising and looking for his hat.
'Wait a minute,' said Nell, glancing at him admiringly. 'The book is called The Scorn of Scorns, and it is written by—by a friend of mine. In to-day's Mirror it is called the most horrid names, sickly sentimental, not even grammatical, and all that.'
'The cads!' cried Greybrooke.
'But the horribly mean, wicked thing about it,' continued Nell, becoming more and more indignant as she told her story, 'is that not two months ago there was a review of the book in the same paper, which said it was the most pathetic and thoughtful and clever tale that had ever been published by an anonymous author!'
'It's the lowest thing I ever heard of,' said Greybrooke, 'but these newspaper men are all the same.'