"Better try me first. Maybe you're making an error."

Peter was learning the wisdom of the serpent.

"Quite right, Tommy. We will first see what you can do. Perhaps,
after all, it may turn out that you are better as a cook." In his
heart Peter doubted this.

But the seed had fallen upon good ground. It was Tommy herself
that manoeuvred her first essay in journalism. A great man had
come to London--was staying in apartments especially prepared for
him in St. James's Palace. Said every journalist in London to
himself: "If I could obtain an interview with this Big Man, what a
big thing it would be for me!" For a week past, Peter had carried
everywhere about with him a paper headed: "Interview of Our
Special Correspondent with Prince Blank," questions down left-hand
column, very narrow; space for answers right-hand side, very wide.
But the Big Man was experienced.

"I wonder," said Peter, spreading the neatly folded paper on the
desk before him, "I wonder if there can be any way of getting at
him--any dodge or trick, any piece of low cunning, any plausible
lie that I haven't thought of."

"Old Man Martin--called himself Martini--was just such another,"
commented Tommy. "Come pay time, Saturday afternoon, you just
couldn't get at him--simply wasn't any way. I was a bit too good
for him once, though," remembered Tommy, with a touch of pride in
her voice; "got half a quid out of him that time. It did surprise
him."