When I had been famous for about ten days I went to do my duty to my country by paying my respects to the American ambassador. He received me with the correct amount of enthusiasm, but complained that I had been tardy in coming to him. He said that there was only one way to get his forgiveness. One of his guests for his dinner-party that night had been taken ill, and I should take the vacant place. I said I would, and we got to talking. It turned out that he and my father had been friends while boys at school. Later they were students together at Yale university, and had always been warm friends until my father's death.

So then he required me to visit him at his house any time I was free, and of course I was very willing. In fact, I was more than willing; I was glad. When the crash came, he might somehow be able to save me from total destruction. I didn't know how, but he might think of a way, maybe. I didn't dare to unburden myself to him at this late date, athough I would have been quick to do so at the start of this awful career of mine in London.

No, I couldn't venture it now. I was in too deep. That is, too deep to risk revelations to so new a friend. However, I did not think I was completely out of my depth. Because you see, with all my borrowing I was carefully keeping within my means - that is within my salary. Of course, I couldn't know what my salary was going to be. However I had a good enough idea. If I won the bet I was to have the choice of any job which that rich old gentleman could give me; provided I was competent - and I would certainly be competent; I hadn't any doubt about that.