"Tut!" he cried presently. "All in good time! The novel is easy.
Anything will do. I'm no literary man. I don't read a book in a year.
You get the novel."

"But I don't read a book in five years!" I exclaimed. "I don't know
anything about books. I don't know where to get a novel."

"Advertise!" he exclaimed. "Advertise! You can get anything, from an
apron to an ancestor, if you advertise for it. Offer a prize--offer a
thousand dollars for the best novel. There must be thousands of novels
not in use."

Perkins was right. I advertised as he suggested and learned that there
were thousands of novels not in use. They came to us by basketfuls and
cartloads. We had novels of all kinds--historical and hysterical,
humorous and numerous, but particularly numerous. You would be
surprised to learn how many ready-made novels can be had on short
notice. It beats quick lunch. And most of them are equally indigestible.
I read one or two but I was no judge of novels. Perkins suggested that
we draw lots to see which we should use.

It really made little difference what the story was about. "The Crimson
Cord" fits almost any kind of a book. It is a nice, non-committal sort
of title, and might mean the guilt that bound two sinners, or the tie of
affection that binds lovers, or a blood relationship, or it might be a
mystification title with nothing in the book about it.

But the choice settled itself. One morning a manuscript arrived that was
tied with a piece of red twine, and we chose that one for good luck
because of the twine. Perkins said that was a sufficient excuse for the