Makepeace raised his head and smiled. ‘You’d be surprised how many so-called friendships are dependent on one’s solvency. When you’re a beggar, my boy, they don’t want to know you any more. I talked to three friends of mine at three separate trusts, and none of them would entertain the smallest loan, not even twenty dollars, without papers and guarantees and full details of what I was going to use it for. On Wall Street, your friendships are only as wide as your wallet.’

Collis wondered whether it was time to tell his father about Senator Stride, but he decided against it. If the Senator came up with the guarantee, then everything would be fine and dandy in any case. But if he didn’t, and particularly if he told George Spooner all about Makepeace’s fruitless speculations, then Makepeace was going to be something less than grateful. Collis considered it was probably wiser to leave the outcome as a surprise, whether it was pleasant, or unpleasant, or downright catastrophic.

‘I’m tired now,’ said Makepeace. ‘I’m going to take a shower bath. Am I going to see you later, or will you be out?’

‘I was thinking of meeting some friends for dinner.’

‘Well, then, I probably won’t.’

Collis laid his arm around his father’s shoulders. He said gently, ‘I want you to know that I do support you. I know we have arguments, and fights; and I know we don’t see eye to eye on politics. But if there’s anything I can do to help you, well, you only have to let me know.’

His father nodded. ‘Thank you,’ he said gruffly, as if he was unsure whether to believe Collis or not, but prepared to accept his sympathy for the time being. Then he added, ‘By the way, I heard from my friend in Maine today. The fellow who was looking for a thirty-pound lobster for you.’

‘Oh, yes?’ asked Collis. ‘Did he find one?’

Makepeace started to sort through his pockets. ‘He didn’t exactly find one … wait a minute, I have his letter here someplace. He didn’t exactly find one … but he good as did.’

‘What do you mean, he good as did? Either you can find a thirty-pound lobster or you can’t.’

Makepeace at last found the letter. He unfolded it carefully, peered at it, and then handed it to Collis. ‘You can see for yourself,’ he said.

Collis held the letter up to the light that came through the crescent-shaped window above the front door. The writing was sloped, even, very old-style New England, like the original penmanship on the Declaration of Independence.

It said:

Belfast, Maine

My dear Makepeace,