"See!" cried Stromboli, as we strolled round the Earl's Court
Exhibition. "These stories of ours are becoming popular. The
circulation of the magazine increases. In order to inspire my creditors
with confidence, I buy a copy for each one of them. But they are many.
It will be necessary to raise the price of the stories, in order that a
reasonable margin of profit may remain."
I suggested that he might find editors more amenable to argument, "if,
for example," I said, "you have any story of especial interest----"
As usual, Stromboli interrupted me.
"A story of especial interest! When I tell you that I have been hunted,
like a wild beast, by officers of the Third Section of the Chancellerie
Imperiale----"
"What! The Russian secret police?"
"Precisely."
"That ought to do."
"You think so?"
"I am sure of it."
"Then I will begin at once."
So we found a quiet table by the artificial lake, and while the band
played valses and selections from the comic operas, Stromboli possessed
himself of a vast beaker of black German beer, and blew dark clouds of
smoke, and proceeded with--