The Man Who Lost Himself

E-text prepared by Roger Frank and the Project Gutenberg Online Distributed Proofreading Team (http://www.pgdp.net)
COPYRIGHT, 1917-1918 BY STREET & SMITH
COPYRIGHT, 1918 BY JOHN LANE COMPANY
THE·PLIMPTON·PRESS NORWOOD·MASS·U·S·A

It was the first of June, and Victor Jones of Philadelphia was seated in the lounge of the Savoy Hotel, London, defeated in his first really great battle with the thing we call life.
Though of Philadelphia, Jones was not an American, nor had he anything of the American accent. Australian born, he had started life in a bank at Melbourne, gone to India for a trading house, started for himself, failed, and become a rolling stone. Philadelphia was his last halt.
With no financial foundation, Victor and a Philadelphia gentleman had competed for a contract to supply the British Government with Harveyised steel struts, bolts, and girders; he had come over to London to press the business; he had interviewed men in brass hats, slow moving men who had turned him over to slower moving men. The Stringer Company, for so he dubbed himself and Aaron Stringer, who had financed him for the journey, had wasted three weeks on the business, and this morning their tender had been rejected. Hardmans’, the Pittsburg people, had got the order.
It was a nasty blow. If he and Stringer could have secured the contract, they could have carried it through all right, Stringer would have put the thing in the hands of Laurenson of Philadelphia, and their commission would have been enormous, a stroke of the British Government’s pen would have filled their pockets; failing that they were bankrupt. At least Jones was.
And justifiably you will say, considering that the whole business was a gigantic piece of bluff—well, maybe, yet on behalf of this bluffer I would put it forward that he had risked everything on one deal, and that this was no little failure of his, but a disaster, naked and complete.
He had less than ten pounds in his pocket and he owed money at the Savoy. You see he had reckoned on doing all his business in a week, and if it failed—an idea which he scarcely entertained—on getting back third class to the States. He had not reckoned on the terrible expenses of London, or the three weeks delay.