“Still, you know something of literary form and the way a book is put together, I suppose?”
“I know nothing about the writing of books, sir. I think I have a fair knowledge of how a sentence should read.”
“Well, that’s the main thing. Still, as a reporter you must have seen a good deal of the seamy side of life, and later you have had to do with important business affairs, ever since you came into my employ.”
“That is very true, Mr. Steele.”
“Don’t you think you could concoct the plot of a novel? A novel of every-day business life, let us say, like one of those that have been so successful lately—a book pulsating with the greed of gold, and all that sort of thing, you know? Unscrupulous men, and perhaps an adventuress here and there, of perfectly stunning beauty. For instance, someone resembling that girl who came in to see me a fortnight ago.”
“Y es, I remember her. She was good looking.”
“An amazing beauty, I thought her,” said Steele, thrusting his hands into his trousers pockets and marching up and down the room. “Well, couldn’t such a belle of the markets as that inspire you towards the writing of a great work of fiction?”
Russell shook his head. “I’m afraid not, Mr. Steele.”
“There’s nothing much doing just now,” continued the promenading man. “At this present moment I intended to be off on my vacation, but I found the mountains too exciting—er—too dull I mean—and so you see I am back among you earlier than I expected. Now, Russell, between ourselves, there is nothing more absurd than for a successful business man to attempt the writing of a novel. Yet I’m the sort of person who cannot remain idle, and there is nothing in sight to do for a month or two. I’m going to while away the time by composing a business novel, and I want you to assist me. I’ll dictate the thing straight off to you, and you must invent the names and kick the sentences into shape.”
“I’ll do my best, sir.”