he condition that
you neither show it to anybody else nor speak of it to anybody else."

"Ah!" she said.... "And only on those conditions?"

"Only on those conditions."

I saw a quick glance between them. "Shall we tell him?" it seemed to
say....

"Including the man Michael's sister is going to marry?" she said
abruptly.

My attitude was deeply apologetic, but, "Including anybody whomsoever," I
answered.

"Then," she said, rising, "we won't bother. But will you at least let us
know, soon, when we may expect your text?"

"I will let you know," I replied slowly, "one week from to-day."

On that assurance they left; and when they had gone I crossed once more
to the lower shelf that contained my letter-files. I turned up the file
for 1900 once more. During their visit I had had an idea.

I ran through the letters, and then replaced them....

Yes, I ought to be able to let them know within the week.

V

Against the day when I myself shall come to die, there are in the
pigeon-holes of the newspaper libraries certain biographical records
that deal roughly with the outward facts of my life; and these,
supplemented by documents I shall place in the hands of my executors,
will tell the story of how I leaped at a bound into wealth and fame with
the publication of _The Cases of Martin Renard_. I will set down as much
of that story as has its bearing on my present tale.

_Martin Renard_ was not immediately accepted by the first editor to whom
it was offered. It does not suffice that in order to be popular a thing
shall be merely good--or bad; it must be bad--or good--in a particular
way. For taking the responsibility when they happen to miss that
particular way editors are paid their salaries. When they happen to hit
it they grow fat on circulation-money: Since it becomes me ill to quarrel
with the way in which any man earns his money, I content myself with
merely stating the fact.

By the time the fourth editor had refused my series I was about at my
last gasp. To write the things at all I had had to sink four months in
time; and debts, writs and pawnshops were my familiars. I was little
better off than Andriaovsky at his very worst. I had read the first of
the _Martin Renards_ to him, by the way; the gigantic outburst of mirth
with which he had received it had not encouraged me to read him a second.
I wrote the others in secret.

I wrote the things in the spring and summer of 1900; and by the last day
of Sept