“You mean, adopt a nom de ploom?”
“That’s the sort of idea; but I’m going to vary it a little.”
And I explained my plan.
“But why me?” he asked, when he had understood the scheme. “What made you think of me?”
“The fact is, my dear fellow,” I said, “this writing is a game where personality counts to an enormous extent. The man who signs my Society dialogues will probably come into personal contact with the editors of the papers in which they appear. He will be asked to call at their offices. So you see I must have a man who looks as if he had written the stuff.”
“I see,” he said complacently. “Dressy sort of chap. Chap who looks as if he knew a thing or two.”
“Yes. I couldn’t get Alf Joblin, for instance.”
We laughed together at the notion.
“Poor old Alf!” said Sidney Price.
“Now you probably know a good deal about Society?”