"As a matter of fact we bought him," said Lincoln. "Partly. And partly he
was afraid of Ostrog. Everything rested with him."

He turned sharply to introduce the Surveyor-General of the Public
Schools. This person was a willowy figure in a blue-grey academic gown,
he beamed down upon Graham through _pince-nez_ of a Victorian pattern,
and illustrated his remarks by gestures of a beautifully manicured hand.
Graham was immediately interested in this gentleman's functions, and
asked him a number of singularly direct questions. The Surveyor-General
seemed quietly amused at the Master's fundamental bluntness. He was a
little vague as to the monopoly of education his Company possessed; it
was done by contract with the syndicate that ran the numerous London
Municipalities, but he waxed enthusiastic over educational progress
since the Victorian times. "We have conquered Cram," he said,
"completely conquered Cram--there is not an examination left in the
world. Aren't you glad?"

"How do you get the work done?" asked Graham.

"We make it attractive--as attractive as possible. And if it does not
attract then--we let it go. We cover an immense field."

He proceeded to details, and they had a lengthy conversation. Graham
learnt that University Extension still existed in a modified form. "There
is a certain type of girl, for example," said the Surveyor-General,
dilating with a sense of his usefulness, "with a perfect passion for
severe studies--when they are not too difficult you know. We cater for
them by the thousand. At this moment," he said with a Napoleonic touch,
"nearly five hundred phonographs are lecturing in different parts of
London on the influence exercised by Plato and Swift on the love affairs