mad over the immediate translation that was made, the American
and English reading public followed suit and bought so many copies that
Martin compelled the conservative house of Singletree, Darnley & Co. to
pay a flat royalty of twenty-five per cent for a third book, and thirty
per cent flat for a fourth. These two volumes comprised all the short
stories he had written and which had received, or were receiving, serial
publication. "The Ring of Bells" and his horror stories constituted one
collection; the other collection was composed of "Adventure," "The Pot,"
"The Wine of Life," "The Whirlpool," "The Jostling Street," and four
other stories. The Lowell-Meredith Company captured the collection of
all his essays, and the Maxmillian Company got his "Sea Lyrics" and the
"Love-cycle," the latter receiving serial publication in the Ladies' Home
Companion after the payment of an extortionate price.

Martin heaved a sigh of relief when he had disposed of the last
manuscript. The grass-walled castle and the white, coppered schooner
were very near to him. Well, at any rate he had discovered Brissenden's
contention that nothing of merit found its way into the magazines. His
own success demonstrated that Brissenden had been wrong.

And yet, somehow, he had a feeling that Brissenden had been right, after
all. "The Shame of the Sun" had been the cause of his success more than
the stuff he had written. That stuff had been merely incidental. It had
been rejected right and left by the magazines. The publication of "The
Shame of the Sun" had started a controversy and precipitated the
landslide in his favor. Had there been no "Shame of the Sun" there would
have been no landslide, and had there been no miracle in the go of "The
Shame of the Sun" there would have been no landslide. Singletree,
Darnley & Co. attested that miracle. They had brought out a first
edition of fifteen hundred copies and been dubious of selling it. They
were experienced publishers and no one had been more astounded than they
at the success which had followed. To them it had been in truth a
miracle. They never got over it, and every letter they wrote him
reflected their reverent awe of that first mysterious happening. They
did not attempt to explain it. There was no explaining it. It had
happened. In the face of all experience to the contrary, it had
happened.

So it was, reasoning thus, that Martin questioned the validity of his
popularity. I