There was also another guest, an American - but I shall say more of this later. People were still outside the dining room, sharpening their appetites for dinner and giving icy looks to those who arrived late. The servant announced that a Mr. Lloyd Hastings had arrived. As soon as he had finished being polite to his host, Hastings saw me. He came straight over with his hand stretched out in greeting; then he stopped just before he shook my hand. He said, with an embarrassed look:

'I beg your pardon, sir, I thought I knew you. Are you the - the ...'.

'Vest-pocket monster? I am, indeed. Don't be afraid to call me by my nickname; I'm used to it.'

'Well, well, this is a surprise. Once or twice I've seen your name together with that nickname. I never thought that you could be the Henry Adams people were talking about. Just six months ago you were working for Blake Hopkins in San Francisco. You also used to work nights on a second job, helping me arrange and check the papers and statistics on the Gould and Curry Mine Extension. I am amazed that you are in London, and a millionaire, and a huge celebrity! Why, it's like a fairy story. I just can't believe it; can't comprehend it. Give me a minute, because my head is spinning.'