Accordingly he said, "Mine is Austin Ford," and seated himself
at Ashton's table. Within ten minutes the man he had promised to pluck
from among the eight million inhabitants of London was smiling
sympathetically at his jests and buying a drink.
On the steamer Ford had rehearsed the story with which, should he meet
Ashton, he would introduce himself. It was one arranged to fit with his
theory that Ashton was a crook. If Ashton were a crook Ford argued that
to at once ingratiate himself in his good graces he also must be a
crook. His plan was to invite Ashton to co-operate with him in some
scheme that was openly dishonest. By so doing he hoped apparently to
place himself at Ashton's mercy. He believed if he could persuade Ashton
he was more of a rascal than Ashton himself, and an exceedingly stupid
rascal, any distrust the bookmaker might feel toward him would
disappear. He made his advances so openly, and apparently showed his
hand so carelessly, that, from being bored, Ashton became puzzled, then
interested; and when Ford insisted he should dine with him, he
considered it so necessary to find out who the youth might be who was
forcing himself upon him that he accepted the invitation.
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