A smile like a tiny crack in grey pond-ice crossed Mr. Valley’s pallid features.

“Why don’t you get them to publish Jason’s poems, then? They’re good, aren’t they? He won’t show them to me. You know what he is! He thinks I’d steal the ideas for my sermons. But if your London friends were to see them⁠—”

Wolf felt sheer amazement at the perspicacity of the little man. What a fool he’d been not to have ever thought of this! Of course, it must be exceedingly difficult to get anything published. Carfax might⁠—he had an interest once in a publishing-house. And they are ⁠—

“I’ll talk to Jason about it,” he said gravely. “Well, I must be off now. I’m going to see Urquhart. By the way, Valley, I am going to finish that book of his.”