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 and he took me down to where the Ambassador was standing and introduced me to him. It was a pleasure to hear Ambassador Page say, "What, not the son of Mr. Lauriat of Boston"! So you see, my father, your name is not without honour in your own city. The Ambassador's sympathy was warmly expressed, and he was putting me into the Embassy motor car—for I didn't care where I went as long as I got away from that station platform—when I saw Mr. Walford coming down the platform. I excused myself and stopped him.

I had wired Mr. Walford (our resident London agent) before leaving Queenstown, asking him to meet me if convenient and to have a taxi. I knew that he lived far out in the suburbs, and that if he were not forewarned there would be no way of his getting to the station on Sunday morning. Previously in the day (Saturday) when I had