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Driving back to Imperia's villa, this time in a taxi, Ambrose realized that his ordeal was by no means at an end. The predicament in which Herbert Ringrose had discovered him earlier in the day was bound to furnish material for a new scene in which, unwittingly, he seemed to be cast to play the leading rôle. Indeed, Ringrose had intimated as much. He considered his situation: he had been led into this labyrinth by his awkward incapacity to say no when some one else was shouting yes. Certainly on the train with Imperia Starling he had foreseen no such serious outcome. Her arguments, after all, had been so specious that it seemed easier to yield to her wishes, especially as he had believed that once in Hollywood his inability to prove useful in the scheme organized by the magnates of the moving picture world would be recognized. He had felt certain that there would be no demand for unoffered services. Today, to his amazement, he had learned that there was a very lively demand for them.

In his pocket he carried an unsigned contract. Fulfilled, it would mean that at his present rate of