Henry would have gasped had he not felt utterly spent.
He sat motionless, hands limp on his knees, chin down.
Henry shifted one hand in ineffectual protest. He was frightened.
'It's pretty near enough. After all, Merchant, it's a case of a new writer. I've got to make him. It'll cost money.'
'Say a hundred and fifty. That's three thousand. Will you take that, Calverly?
'What for?' asked Merchant. 'What are you buying exactly?'
'Oh, serial rights. Pay a reasonable royalty on the book, of course. But I've got to publish the book, too. And I want a long-term contract. Here!' He sat down and figured with a pencil on the edge of the evening paper. 'How about this? I'm to have exclusive control of the Henry Calverly matter for five years----'
'Well--three years. I'm to see every word before he offers it elsewhere. And for what I accept I'd pay at the same rate per word as for these stories. And books at the same royalty as we agree on for this.'
'Fine for you. Guarantees your control of him. But he gets nothing. No guarantee.'
'What would be right then? I'd do the fair thing. He'll never regret tying up with me.'
'You'd better agree to pay him something--say twenty-five a week--as a minimum, to be charged against serial payments. That is, if you want to tie him up. I'm not sure I'd advise him to do even that, now.'
'I'm going to tie him up, all right. I'd go the limit. Twenty-five a week, minimum, for three years. That's agreed... How're you fixed, Calverly? Want any money now?'
Henry looked again at his cool, accomplished host. 'Yes. Better advance a little. He could use it. Couldn't you, Calverly?'
'What do you say to five hundred. That'd clinch the bargain. Here--wait!'
He produced a pocket cheque-book and a fountain pen, and wrote out the cheque.
'Here you are, Calverly. That'd take care of you for the present. Mustn't forget to send the stub to Miss Peters to-morrow. You'd better go now. Go home. Get a good night's sleep. And watch that stomach. Cereal's good, at your age. But cut out the orange.... I'm going to bed, Merchant. Been travelling hard. Tired out myself.... Calverly, I'll send you the contract from New York.'
'First, though'--this from Mr Merchant--'I think you'd better write a letter--here, to-night--confirming the arrangement. You and I can do that. We'll let Mr Calverly go.'