I laughed. The twist amused me.
“That isn’t what I meant exactly,” said I, “though it has some bearing on the situation. Is it a Henry James dandy, or does it bear the mark of Caine? Is it realism or fiction?”
“Realism,” said he. “Fiction isn’t in my line.”
“Well, I’ll tell you,” I replied; “you send it to me by post and I’ll look it over. If I can use it I will.”
“Can’t do it,” said he. “There isn’t any post-office where I am.”
“What?” I cried. “No post-office? Where in Hades are you?”
“Gehenna,” he answered briefly. “The transportation between your country and mine is all one way,” he added. “If it wasn’t the population here would diminish.”
“Then how the deuce am I to get hold of your stuff?” I demanded.
“That’s easy. Send your stenographer to the ’phone and I’ll dictate it,” he answered.
The novelty of the situation appealed to me. Even if my new found acquaintance were some funny person nearer at hand than Gehenna trying to play a practical joke upon me, still it might be worth while to get hold of the story he had to tell. Hence I agreed to his proposal.