I take you behind the scenes. I give you news of the stirring times in which we live, Which no other newspaper would dare to publish, writes Showman in the "Daily Herald."
I buttonhole Cabine Ministers, Disguised as a waiter, I have to breathe but once down the necks of High Officials at dinner parties, and return a few minutes later to read the exclusive secrets which they have dashed off for my eyes—and mine alone—on their shirt cuffs.
I have the entree into the most exclusive rooms of the most exclusive Mayfair mansions—never say "houses," chum, it's vulgar—where aristocratic-looking women, blazing with diamonds, mingle with aristocratic-looking men, whose pockets rattle with solid platinum cigarette cases, and influence the Government's policy with the twitch of a delicately curved nostril or the merest flap of an exquisitely moulded ear.
Yes, and I know all the Great Ones of this earth by their nicknames. I beckon to them. They come and whisper the truth to me—the truth which you are not told!
Why did Lord Halifax hold his top hat in his left hand, and not his right, when he shook hands with Colonel Beck?
You don't know?
Ah, ha!
Text read from the printed page and cleaned; old type leaves the occasional error.