At that time I thought it was my professional pride that suffered because of failure. Now I know I was hurt because the old Chinaman had shown himself so superior to me. If he had sent me to jail I would have done my time and forgotten him, but to this day thinking about him and writing about him make me feel uneasy. I wonder what I would have done had he made me promise to quit stealing?

But I was in this private car, feeling that my luck was due for a change, and with a chance to heal my wounded pride. The air inside the car was warm, live, vibrating. I sensed an occupant. Making my way along the aisle toward a stateroom at the far end, I looked about closely for an attendant but there was none in sight. The stateroom door was open, with a chair against it, probably for better ventilation. A heavily shaded lamp was burning, and by its soft light I saw the form of a big man rolled in the blankets on a broad berth. His back was toward the door, and nothing but a shock of coarse gray hair showed above the covers. A glance told me I was in the presence of power, wealth, affluence. I hadn’t enough money to pay for that man’s breakfast.