The concierge bowed and extended his hand toward the lift. “Yes, Milord, Mr. Cabot is expecting you. Topfloor.”
He scurried over to the lift doors and invited Robertinside.
“Splendid morning, is it not,Milord?”
“Exceptional,” Robert muttered, anxious to get out of the slow moving box. He was not accustomed to using such a dubiouscontraption.
Finally, he was deposited on the top floor and rang thedoorbell.
The door was flung open with a great deal of force and a red-faced, portly man greetedhim.
“My lord. Welcome. What a great, but unexpected, pleasure to meet you,” he said, ushering Robert inside his pleasantflat.
“This way. My office where I write is such a terrible mess. Please, let us visit in the sitting-room if youplease.”
Robert followed Dexter into a large room with tall windows overlooking the street that had a small strip of grass and trees running down themiddle.
“Sherry? Whiskey? Or I can have the Misses put together a pot of tea. What’s your pleasure?” Dexterasked.
“Nothing for me. I am soon to have luncheon with Sir Cecil at his club. Want to keep a clear head for the business athand.”
“As youlike.”
He indicated an overstuffed chair for Robert to sit and he took a similar chairopposite.
“Now then,” Dexter began, “I was surprised but also intrigued by your letter. You say you are looking to publish, but cannot under your ownname?”
“That is correct,” Robert answered, and proceeded to explain the situation to his fellowauthor.
When Robert had finished, Dexter rubbed his chin several times with his plumphand.
“Most interesting situation. However, I am not quite certain what you wish of me. How could I be ofassistance?”
“I am looking for a surrogate whose name I can publish under. I am willing to offer a substantial portion of the royalties from the book, which Sir Cecil assures me will sell quitewell.”
“But what about my writing? How could I continue if you are publishing under myname?”
“Cecil believes he can make otherarrangements.”
“But my readers? I have a substantial group of loyal followers who would immediately identify a book written by another author as not being mine—it would not be what they expect fromme.”
“I was thinking there might be a preface in the book explaining that you are going in a new direction with yourwriting.”
Dexter stood up and went over to a bookshelf. “You see these—the nine books that I have written? Each one a great labor of love. Each one a success, and I could show you the many admiring letters I get from my readers expressing the great pleasure and satisfaction they get from reading my humbleofferings.”
“And that is why I am asking you to consider my offer—so that I might tap into that enthusiastic readership. And I will certainly make it worth your while financially. And you can still keep writing and publishing—only under anothername.”
“But how will my readers findme?”
“I believe Sir Cecil can help withthat.”
Dexter came back to his chair and sat, but didn’t say anything. However, he was clearly mulling the offer over in hismind.
Finally, he said, “I am sorry My Lord. I just do not think that is a proposition that will work for me. I must honestly say I am a trifle set in my ways at my age and do not feel that I want to basically start over again building a new readership. I am afraid I must decline your most interesting and generousoffer.”
Robert stood. “Then I thank you for your time, Mr. Cabot. And I wish you all the very best with your newbook.”
* * *
