Several were of the right length, and we chose one and sent it to Mr.
Gilkowsky with a request that he read it to his sweetheart. She had
never read it before.
We sent a detective to Dillville, Indiana, where the author lived, and
the report we received was most satisfactory.
The author was a sober, industrious young man, just out of the high
school, and bore a first-class reputation for honesty. He had never been
in Virginia, where the scene of his story was laid, and they had no
library in Dillville, and our detective assured us that the young man
was in every way fitted to write a historical novel.
"The Crimson Cord" made an immense success. You can guess how it boomed
when I say that although it was published at a dollar and a half, it was
sold by every department store for fifty-four cents, away below cost,
just like sugar, or Vandeventer's Baby Food, or Q & Z Corsets, or any
other staple. We sold our first edition of five million copies inside of
three months, and got out another edition of two million, and a
specially illustrated holiday edition and an _edition de luxe_, and "The
Crimson Cord" is still selling in paper-covered cheap edition.
With the royalties received from the aftermath and the profit on the
book itself, we made--well, Perkins has a country place at Lakewood, and
I have my cottage at Newport.
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