The best-selling book just now is the short novel--say thirty thousand words--of action and adventure.

Judging from the stories of your collection, we suspect that your talent lies in this direction, and we would suggest that you write such a novel and submit the same to us.
Very respectfully, THE CENTENNIAL CO., New York.
Condy shoved the letter into his pocket and collapsed limply into his chair.
"What's the good of trying to do anything anyhow!" he muttered, looking gloomily down into the street.

"My level is just the hack-work of a local Sunday supplement, and I am a fool to think of anything else." His enthusiasm in the matter of the "City of Everett" was cold and dead in a moment.

He could see no possibilities in the subject whatever.
His "idea" of a few minutes previous seemed ridiculous and overwrought.
He would go back to the office and grind out his copy from the exchange editor's clipping.
Just then his eye was caught by a familiar figure in trim, well-fitting black halted on the opposite corner waiting for the passage of a cable car.

It was Travis Bessemer.