"I think it is going to be better," he said gravely. "Much better. Anyway, I intend it to be." "That's right. I like to hear that. Nothing like ambition. I suppose you'll get another three hundred for this one?" "Five," said the young man. "That's if the editor likes it." "My!" said Miss Dobbs, with an involuntary flash of the wary eyes. "And that's only for the serial." "Yes." "And, of course, you'll be able to bring it out as a book as well?" "The editor has arranged for that already. For the present one, I mean." "But you'll get paid for it extra, of course!" "Oh yes." "How much?" Miss Dobbs spoke carelessly, but her eyes were by no means careless. "I'll get a shilling for every copy that's sold." "And how many will they sell?" "Nobody knows that," he said, and from his tone it seemed that aspect of the matter was unimportant. "No, I expect not." Her tone coincided readily with his. "But I suppose a man like Stevenson or Bert Hobson would sell by the hundred thousand?" "No idea," said the young man. "But you ought to have an idea, Harry. It's very important. What you want is somebody with a head for business to look after your affairs." He was inclined to accept this view of the matter, but there would be time to think of that when he really was selling in thousands, which, of course, could not be until the book was published. "When will it be published?" "Next week." "Next week! And you are going to get a sure five hundred, apart from the book, for the story you are writing now?" "If Mr. Ambrose likes it." "Of course he'll like it. You must make it so good that he can't help liking it." "I'll try, anyway." Miss Dobbs grew thoughtful. She was inclined to believe, having regard to all the circumstances, that she had a difficult hand to play. Therefore, she began to arrange two or three of the leading cards in her mind. To be perfectly candid with herself, she could not help thinking, and her two friends had confirmed her in that view, that she had shown lack of judgment in the cards she had played already. For one thing, it was agreed that they might have a little underrated the size and the weight of the fish that had to be landed. Miss Dobbs was a trifle uncertain as to what her next move should be. There was much at stake, and one blunder in tactics might be fatal. However, she was about to receive assistance of a kind she had felt it would no longer be wise to expect. "Miss Dobbs ... Cora," said the young man, with an abruptness that startled her. "There's something ... something particular I want to say to you." Cora was on guard at once. But she was able to make clear that whatever he might have to say to her, she was prepared to listen. "I've been thinking a goodish bit," said Henry Harper, with a quaint stiffening of manner as the gruff words found a way out of him, "about that talk we had the last time I come here." Miss Dobbs listened with eyes half shut. Her face was a mask.