'I want the editor,' said Greybrooke, somewhat startled by the sound his voice made in the great room.
''Stairs,' said one of the figures, meaning downstairs.
Greybrooke, remembering who had sent him here, did not lose heart. He knocked at several doors, and then pushed them open. All the rooms were empty. Then he heard a voice saying—
'Who are you? What do you want?'
Mr. Licquorish was the speaker, and he had been peering at the intruder for some time through a grating in his door. He would not have spoken at all, but he wanted to go into the composing-room, and Greybrooke was in the passage that led to it.
'I don't see you,' said the captain; 'I want the editor.'
'I am the editor,' said the voice, 'but I can see no one at present except on business.'
'I am here on business,' said Greybrooke. 'I want to thrash one of your staff.'
'All the members of my literary staff are engaged at present,' said Mr. Licquorish, in a pleasant voice; 'which one do you want?'
'I want the low cad who wrote a review of a book called The Scorn of Scorns, in to-day's paper.'