'Serial rights,' said Snyder impressively. 'I told you some time since I might have a surprise for you, and I've got one. I fancied I might sell the serial rights in England to Macalistairs, at my own price, but they thought the end was too sad. However, I've done business in New York with _Gordon's Weekly_. They'll issue the _Q. C._ in four instalments. It was really settled last week, but I had to arrange with Spring Onions. They've paid cash. I made 'em. How much d'you think?' 'I don't know,' Henry said expectantly. 'Guess,' Mark Snyder commanded him. But Henry would not guess, and Snyder rang the bell for Geraldine. 'Miss Foster,' he addressed the puzzling creature in a casual tone, 'did you draw that cheque for Mr. Knight?' 'Yes, Mr. Snyder.' 'Bring it me, please.' And she respectfully brought in a cheque, which Mr. Snyder signed. 'There!' said he, handing it to Henry. 'What do you think of that?' It was a cheque for one thousand and eighty pounds. Gordon and Brothers, the greatest publishing firm of the United States, had paid six thousand dollars for the right to publish serially _A Question of Cubits_, and Mark Snyder's well-earned commission on the transaction amounted to six hundred dollars. 'Things are looking up,' Henry stammered, feebly facetious. 'It's nearly a record price,' said Snyder complacently. 'But you're a sort of a record man. And when they believe in a thing over there, they aren't afraid of making money talk and say so.' 'Nay, nay!' thought Henry. 'This is too much! This beats everything! Either I shall wake up soon or I shall find myself in a lunatic asylum.' He was curiously reminded of the conjuring performance at the Alhambra. He said: 'Thanks awfully, I'm sure!' A large grandiose notion swept over him that he had a great mission in the world. 'That's all I have to say to you,' said Mark Snyder pawkily. Henry wanted to breathe instantly the ampler ether of the street, but on his way out he found Geraldine in rapid converse with the middle-aged and magnificently-dressed woman who thought that a lift could go up and down at once. They became silent. '_Good_-morning, Miss Foster,' said Henry hurriedly. Then a pause occurred, very brief but uncomfortable, and the stranger glanced in the direction of the window. 'Let me introduce you to Mrs. Ashton Portway,' said Geraldine. 'Mrs. Portway, Mr. Knight.' Mrs. Portway bent forward her head, showed her teeth, smiled, laughed, and finally sniggered.