what I wished to tell you. You failed to call to your assistance the greatest power on earth."
"Money? Why, I spent money like water."
"Oh, money is a mere inert mass. Within itself it has no potency. It is a tool, useful only in the hands of a man with knowledge and brains."
"Thanks, Blake. Go on; what, then, is the greatest power on earth?"
"The power of the Press, my lord and master. You were astonished at the result of advertising for an idea; at the instant response; at the bagful after bagful of letters. Now suppose for a moment that you had realised the treasure you possess in me, a veteran journalist. Suppose, when you bought those coastguard stations, you had said to me—
"'How can we hitch our waggon to the Press?'
"I should instantly have tipped the wink to one or two of our most enterprising papers; not baldly, as if I wanted anything from them, but in a distressful, hesitating, puzzled sort of way. I should have begun something like this—
"'That's an amazing thing Lord Stranleigh has done. I wonder what will be the outcome?'
"Newspaper ears would at once be on the alert, and instead of having to force information into them, I should find myself embodying 'good copy,'
