"Yes, Mr. Dunkle, a Winner; if not," Mr. Indermaur paused impressively, "a Best Seller, though that, of course, I cannot promise."
"Don't!" said Dunkle. "Please don't!"
"I see," said Mr. Indermaur, "that you're superstitious, Mr. Dunkle. It makes you uneasy to hear me prophesying success for 'Trixie.' Well, I'll say no more now; but two months hence we shall see. Yes, Mr. Dunkle, we shall see. Here is the contract. If you'll look it through now and sign it, time will be saved. The sooner you give us the right to begin, the better we shall be pleased."
Dunkle signed the contract. He was too heavily dispirited even to read it. Soon afterwards he shambled out of Mr. Indermaur's presence, with the air of a man who leaves the dock after being sentenced to five years' penal servitude,
