“Better be personal,” said Pillivant, enjoying the inscription of the rolling title and the prospect of the elevated eyebrows of the bank clerk who should debit the sum to his account.
“That’s exceedingly generous of you, Mr. Pillivant,” said Lord Beldon, putting the cheque into a drawer of his writing-table.
“Just patriotic, your lordship,” replied Pillivant, with a profiteering wave of the hand.
“I think,” said Baltazar, “that the contributor of such an important sum ought to be offered some practical interest in the scheme. Mr. Pillivant’s name will appear on the General Committee. But that’s more or less honorary. The sub-committees will do the real business. We’re going to deal with every phase of the war, Pillivant, and the various sub-committees—their names will be published large as life and twice as natural—will supply the editorial department with indisputable facts. Now,” he turned to Lord Beldon, “if Mr. Pillivant will serve on the Purity of Contracts Sub-Committee, he’ll be bringing us a tremendous and invaluable business experience.”
“That’s a most happy suggestion,” smiled Lord Beldon.
“I think so, too. I’ll get a run for my money,” said Pillivant.
When he had gone, Lord Beldon turned a puzzled brow on Baltazar.
“Isn’t that the chap about whom some nasty things were said a few months ago?”
Baltazar grinned. “It is,” said he. “We’ve made him disgorge some of his ill-gotten gains, and, by putting him on the sub-committee we’ll make him pretty careful about getting them ill in the future.”
Thus, with ruthless pertinacity he gathered in a great sum of money, and finally in a splendour of publicity the first number of The New Universe appeared, and from the first day of its appearance Baltazar felt himself to be a power in the land.