AND so the work was done. BELINDA, after a year's hard writing, had completed her self-appointed task. _Douglas the Doomed One_ had grown by degrees into its present proportions. First the initial volume was completed; then the second was finished; and now the third was ready for the printer's hands. But who should have it? Ah, there was the rub! BELINDA knew no publishers and had no influence. How could she get anyone to take the novel up? And yet, if she was to believe the _Author_, there was plenty of room for untried talent. According to that interesting periodical publishers were constantly on the lookout for undiscovered genius. Why should she not try the firm of Messrs. BINDING AND PRINT? She made up her mind. She set her face hard, and muttered, "Yes, they _shall_ do it! _Douglas the Doomed One_ shall appear with the assistance of Messrs. BINDING AND PRINT!" And when BELINDA made up her mind to do anything, not wild omnibus-horses would turn her from her purpose. [Illustration] VOLUME II.--_Wide Awake._ Messrs. BINDING AND PRINT had received their visitor with courtesy. They did not require to read _Douglas the Doomed One_. They had discovered that it was sufficiently long to make the regulation three volumes. That was all that was necessary. They would accept it. They would be happy to publish it. "And about terms?" murmured BELINDA. "Half profits," returned Mr. BINDING, with animation. "When we have paid for the outlay we shall divide the residue," cried Mr. PRINT. "And do you think I shall soon get a cheque?" asked the anxious authoress. "Well, that is a question not easy to answer. You see, we usually spend any money we make in advertising. It does the work good in the long run, although at first it rather checks the profits." BELINDA was satisfied, and took her departure. "We must advertise _Douglas the Doomed One_ in the _Skatemaker's Quarterly Magazine_," said Mr. BINDER. "And in the _Crossing Sweeper's Annual_," replied Mr. PRINT. Then the two partners smiled at one another knowingly. They laughed as they remembered that of both the periodicals they had mentioned they were the proprietors. VOLUME III.--_Fast Asleep._ The poor patient at Slocum-on-Slush moaned. He had been practically awake for a month, and nothing could send him to sleep. The Doctor held his wrist, and as he felt the rapid beats of his pulse became graver and graver. "And you have no friends, no relatives?" "No. My only visitor was the man who brought that box of books from a metropolitan library." "A box of books!" exclaimed the Doctor. "There may yet be time to save his life!" The man of science rose abruptly, and approaching the casket containing the current literature of the day, roughly forced it open. He hurriedly inspected its contents. He turned over the volumes impatiently until he reached a set.