of the question to write the article according to his own idea in
so short a time; so Condy faked the stuff from the exchange
clipping, after all. His description of the boat and his comments
upon her mission--taken largely at second hand--served only to
fill space in the paper. They were lacking both in interest and
in point. There were no illustrations. The article was a
failure.

But Condy redeemed himself by a witty interview later in the week
with an emotional actress, and by a solemn article compiled after
an hour's reading in Lafcadio Hearn and the Encyclopedia--on the
"Industrial Renaissance in Japan."

But the idea of the diver's story came back to him again and
again, and Thursday night after supper he went down to his club,
and hid himself at a corner desk in the library, and, in a burst
of enthusiasm, wrote out some two thousand words of it. In order
to get the "technical details," upon which he set such store, he
consulted the Encyclopedias again, and "worked in" a number of
unfamiliar phrases and odd-sounding names. He was so proud of the
result that he felt he could not wait until the tale was finished
and in print to try its effect. He wanted appreciation and
encouragement upon the instant. He thought of Blix.

"She saw the point in Morrowbie Jukes' description of the slope of
the sandhill," he told himself; and the next moment had resolved
to go up and see her the next evening, and read to her what he had
written.

This was on Thursday. All through that week Blix had kept much to