"Mr. Warmington, is that Jesson story set up?" the editor inquired.
"Yes, sir. I understand that those were your instructions."
Drexley nodded.
"Well, I shall want it kept back for a bit," he said. "You can take another story of about the same length from the accepted chest."
The manager stared.
"We've nothing else as good," he remarked. "You said yourself that
Jesson's story was the best bit of work we'd had in for a long time."
Drexley frowned and turned back to his letters.
"Never mind that," he said. "I've good reasons for what I'm telling you to do. Jesson's story is not to appear until I give the word."
The manager withdrew without a word. Drexley went on with his correspondence. In a few minutes there was another knock at his door. He looked up annoyed. Some one else, no doubt, to protest against the exclusion of Jesson's story. Rice was standing upon the threshold, and behind him a younger man, tall, with clustering hair and brilliant eyes, cheeks on which the tan still lingered, ill-clad but personable.
"I've brought Mr. Jesson in to see you, sir," Rice said, breezily. "I found him at Spargetti's, struck up an acquaintance and brought him along. I thought you'd like to have a talk with him about some more work."