Drexley for a moment was as speechless as Douglas was nervous. Rice, blandly unconscious of anything unusual, wheeled up a chair for the latter and sauntered towards the door.
"I'd like to have a word with you before you go, Jesson," he said.
"Will you look in at my room?"
Douglas murmured an inarticulate assent, and Rice departed. Then he looked up at the man who so far had only bidden him a mechanical good morning, and wondered a little at the heavy frown upon his face. Perhaps his introduction had been a little unceremonious, but surely he could not be blamed for that.
Drexley pulled himself together. The thing was awkward, but it must be faced.
"You have come to see us about your story, I suppose, Mr. Jesson?" he began. "A very fair story indeed for a beginner, as I suppose you are. I am hoping that some day we may be able to make use of it for the Ibex."
Douglas looked up quickly.
"I understood Mr. Rice that you were using it in the next issue of the magazine," he said.
"The next issue!" Drexley shook his head.
"I am afraid that is quite out of the question," he said. "You see our arrangements are all made a very long time ahead, and we have short stories enough on hand now to last us nearly two years. Of course if you care to leave yours with us, I think I can promise you that it shall appear some time, but exactly when, I should not care to say. It would be quite impossible to fix a date."
Douglas was bewildered—speechless. He did his best, however, to remain coherent.