advertisements."

She dragged him to the window and pointed triumphantly into the
street.

"See that!" she said. "Mr. Spink sent them here for me to inspect."

Drawn up in a line that stretched from Fifth Avenue to Broadway
were an army of sandwich men. On the boards they carried were the
words: "Read 'The Dead Heat.' Second Edition. One Hundred
Thousand!" On the fence in front of the building going up across
the street, in letters a foot high, Carter again read the name of
his novel. In letters in size more modest, but in colors more
defiant, it glared at him from ash-cans and barrels.

"How much does this cost?" he gasped.

"It cost every dollar you had in bank," said Dolly, "and before we
are through it will cost you twice as much more. Mr. Spink is only
waiting to hear from me before he starts spending fifty thousand
dollars; that's only half of what you won on Red Wing. I'm only
waiting for you to make me out a check before I tell Spink to start
spending it."

In a dazed state Carter drew a check for fifty thousand dollars and
meekly handed it to his wife. They carried it themselves to the
office of Mr. Spink. On their way, on every side they saw evidences
of his handiwork. On walls, on scaffolding, on bill-boards were
advertisements of "The Dead Heat." Over Madison Square a huge kite
as large as a Zeppelin air-ship painted the name of the book