district, where one might see the signs of more Hebrews than all Jerusalem had ever held; in yet other districts were the newspaper offices, and the centre of the magazine and book-publishing business of the whole country.  One might climb to the top of one of the great “sky-scrapers,” and gaze down upon a wilderness of houses, with roofs as innumerable as tree-tops, and people looking like tiny insects below.  Or one might go out into the harbour late upon a winter afternoon, and see it as a city of a million lights, rising like an incantation from the sea.  Round about it was an unbroken ring of docks, with ferry-boats and tugs darting everywhere, and vessels which had come from every port in the world, emptying their cargoes into the huge maw of the Metropolis.

And of all this, nothing had been planned!  All lay just as it had fallen, and men bore the confusion and the waste as best they could.  Here were huge steel vaults, in which lay many billions of dollars’ worth of securities, the control of the finances of the country; and a block or two in one direction were warehouses and gin-mills, and in another direction cheap lodging-houses and sweating-dens.  And at a certain hour all this huge machine would come to a halt, and its millions of human units would make a blind rush for their homes.  Then at the entrances to bridges and ferries and trams, would be seen sights of madness and terror; throngs of men and women swept hither and thither, pushing and struggling, shouting, cursing —­righting, now and then, in sudden panic fear.  All decency was forgotten here—­people would be mashed into cars like football players in a heap, and guards and policemen would jam the gates tight—­or like as not be swept away themselves in the pushing, grunting, writhing mass of human beings.  Women would faint and be trampled; men would come out with clothing torn to shreds, and sometimes with broken arms or ribs.  And thinking people would gaze at the sight and shudder, wondering—­how long a city could hold together, when the masses of its population were thus forced back, day after day, habitually, upon the elemental brute within them.

In this vast business district Montague would have felt utterly lost and helpless, if it had not been for that fifty thousand dollars, and the sense of mastery which it gave him.  He sought out General Prentice, and under his guidance selected his suite of rooms, and got his furniture and books in readiness.  And a day or two later, by appointment, came Mr. Hasbrook.

He was a wiry, nervous little man, who did not impress one as much of a personality; but he had the insurance situation at his fingers’ ends—­his grievance had evidently wrought upon him.  Certainly, if half of what he alleged were true, it was time that the courts took hold of the affair.

Montague spent the whole day in consultation, going over every aspect of the case, and laying out his course of procedure.  And then, at the end, Mr. Hasbrook remarked that it would be necessary for them to make some financial arrangement.  And the other set his teeth together, and took a tight grip upon himself, and said, “Considering the importance of the case, and all the circumstances, I think I should have a retainer of fifty thousand dollars.”