six months after its publication, I'll back you up in any story you care to tell about the true authorship of it and of 'Trixie.' But it's understood, of course, that I get all royalties on both books for ever."
"A new novel, eh?" said the Archdeacon reflectively. Again he halted—this time by the chimney-piece. "A new novel, eh?"
"That's the idea," said Dunkle. "Think," he went on, encouragingly, "how fine it'll be for you to have a lot more favourable reviews to read. You'll like that, sir."
The Archdeacon licked his lips. "Yes, Bisham," he said, "you're right. I shall like that excellently. Nor, having regard to the disclosure that will be about to be made, shall I, I believe, grudge you any of the praise that may at first come your way. As for the money, you'll be extremely
