“It does not matter,” I hissed. “You’re a devil. You’ve tried to play a dirty game, but it won’t do. And now listen to me.”
Then I took a step towards her and adopted the manner of a stage villain. My face was apparently convulsed with rage, and my raised lips showed my teeth in a vicious snarl. It was most effective. I vow the woman shrank back a moment.
“I’ll pay you out, you harridan. I’ll make you smart for this. Nobody ever did me a bad turn but what I did them a worse. Beware, Madame, beware. I will have my revenge.”
I slammed the door in her face. Then I laughed loud and long.
“I say! it’s all awfully funny, Little Thing. Now let’s go and have some dinner in place of the one we should have had with your mother.”
When we got home that night, another matter claimed my attention. On opening The Bookman, which had arrived that morning, I found therein a well-displayed advertisement of Tom, Dick and Harry. There was half a column of press extracts carefully culled and pruned, the evil of them having in some inexplicable way evaporated. But, oh, wonderful fact that made me scratch my head thoughtfully! in bracketed italics was the announcement: Seventh Impression. There was no guessing how many copies went to an impression. If the publishers were boosting up the number of editions by printing only five hundred copies at a time this did not mean much. But it was hardly likely. In any case it did not look as if MacWaddy and Wedge were losing money over their venture.
The result was that next morning I read over my contract with them. Thank goodness! I still had the American rights; so by the first post I wrote to Widgeon & Co., the literary agents, putting the matter in their hands. There was a reply by return saying that there were several representatives of American firms in London at that time, and that they would get in touch with them without delay.
The following day there came a telegram: “Messrs. Liverwood & Son offer to publish book on fifteen per cent. royalty basis. Will we accept. Widgeon.”
I immediately wired back: “Accept for immediate publication.”
Well, that was off my mind anyway. A few days after, I got a letter from MacWaddy & Wedge saying that they hoped to have a new book from me soon. What were the prospects, they wanted to know, of me being able to let them have it for their autumn lists? In which case they would begin an advertising campaign right away. I wrote back that my affairs were now in the hands of Widgeon & Co. and that all business would be done through them.