“I don’t usually—or only when I’ve got it from some publisher who doesn’t want it.”
“I thought it had been the rounds,” said Mr. Brandreth, still uneasily.
“Oh, it’s an editor, this time. It’s just been offered to me for serial use in Every Evening, and I’ve declined it.”
“What do you mean?” Mr. Brandreth smiled in mystification.
“Exactly what I say.” Ray explained the affair as it had occurred. “It makes me feel like Brutus and the son of Brutus rolled into one. I’m going round to old Kane, to give the facts away to him. I think he’ll enjoy them.”
“Well! Hold on! What did the chief say about it?”
“Oh, he liked it. Everybody likes it, but nobody wants it. He said he thought it would succeed as a book. The editors all think that. The publishers think it would succeed as a serial.”
Ray carried it off buoyantly, and enjoyed the sort of daze Mr. Brandreth was in.
“See here,” said the publisher, “I want you to leave that manuscript with me.”
“Again?”