done up in a white box and tied with crimson cord."

He closed his eyes and tilted his head upward.

"A thick book," he said, "with deckel edges and pictures by Christy.
No, pictures by Pyle. Deep, mysterious pictures! Shadows and gloom! And
wide, wide margins. And a gloomy foreword. One fifty per copy, at all
booksellers."

Perkins opened his eyes and set his hat straight with a quick motion of
his hand. He arose and pulled on his gloves.

"Where are you going?" I asked.

"Contracts!" he said. "Contracts for advertising! We must boom 'The
Crimson Cord.' We must boom her big!"

He went out and closed the door. Presently, when I supposed him well on
the way down town, he opened the door and inserted his head.

"Gilt tops," he announced. "One million copies the first impression!"

And then he was gone.


II

A week later Chicago and the greater part of the United States was
placarded with "The Crimson Cord." Perkins did his work thoroughly and
well, and great was the interest in the mysterious title. It was an old