Yes, I ought to be able to let them know within the week.
V
Against the day when I myself shall come to die, there are in the
pigeon-holes of the newspaper libraries certain biographical records
that deal roughly with the outward facts of my life; and these,
supplemented by documents I shall place in the hands of my executors,
will tell the story of how I leaped at a bound into wealth and fame with
the publication of _The Cases of Martin Renard_. I will set down as much
of that story as has its bearing on my present tale.
_Martin Renard_ was not immediately accepted by the first editor to whom
it was offered. It does not suffice that in order to be popular a thing
shall be merely good--or bad; it must be bad--or good--in a particular
way. For taking the responsibility when they happen to miss that
particular way editors are paid their salaries. When they happen to hit
it they grow fat on circulation-money: Since it becomes me ill to quarrel
with the way in which any man earns his money, I content myself with
merely stating the fact.
By the time the fourth editor had refused my series I was about at my
last gasp. To write the things at all I had had to sink four months in
time; and debts, writs and pawnshops were my familiars. I was little
better off than Andriaovsky at his very worst. I had read the first of
the _Martin Renards_ to him, by the way; the gigantic outburst of mirth
with which he had received it had not encouraged me to read him a second.
I wrote the others in secret.
I wrote the things in the spring and summer of 1900; and by the last day
of September I was confident that I had at last sold them. Except by a
flagrant breach of faith, the editor in whose desk they reposed could
hardly decline them. As it subsequently happened, I have now nothing but
gratitude for him that he did, after all, decline them; for I had a
duplicate copy "on offer" in another quarter.
He declined them, I say; and I was free to possess my soul again among my
writs, debts and pawnshops.
But four days later I received the alternative offer. It was from the
_Falchion_. The _Falchion_, as you may remember, has since run no less
than five complete series of _Martin Renards_. It bought "both sides,"
that is to say, both British and American serial rights. Of the twelve
_Martin Renards_ I had written, my wise agent had offered the _Falchion_
six only. On his advice I accepted the offer.
Instantaneously with the publication of those six stories came my
success. In two continents I was "home"--home in the hearts of the
public. I had my small cheque--it was not much more than a hundred
pounds--but "Wait," said my agent; "let's see what we can do with the
other six...."
Precisely what he did with them only he and I know; but I don't mind
saying that £3000 did not buy my first serial rights. Then came second
and third rights, and after them the book rights, British, American, and
Colonial. Then came the translation rights. In French, my creation is, of
course, as in English, _Martin Renard_; in German he is Martin Fuchs; and
by a similar process you can put him--my translators have put him--into
Italian, Swedish, Norwegian, Russian, and three-fourths of the tongues of
Europe. And this was the first series only. It was only with the second
series that the full splendour of my success appeared. My very imitators
grew rich; my agent's income from his comparatively small percentage on
my royalties was handsome; and he chuckled and bade me wait for the
dramatic rights and the day when the touring companies should get to
business....