his millions into banks.—­And there was Cummings, the Ice King, who for years had financed the political machine in the city, and, by securing a monopoly of the docking-privileges, had forced all his rivals to the wall.  He had set out to monopolise the coastwise steamship trade of the country, and had bought line after line of vessels by this same device of “pyramiding”; and now, finding that he needed still more money to buy out his rivals, he had purchased or started a dozen or so of trust companies and banks.

“Anyone ought to realise that such things cannot go on indefinitely,” said the General.  “I know that the big men realise it.  I was at a directors’ meeting the other day, and I heard Waterman remark that it would have to be ended very soon.  Anyone who knows Waterman would not expect to get a second hint.”

“What could he do?” asked Montague.

“Waterman!” exclaimed young Curtiss.

“He would find a way,” said the General, simply.  “That is the one hope that I see in the situation—­the power of a conservative man like him.”

“You trust him, then?” asked Montague.

“Yes,” said the General, “I trust him.—­One has to trust somebody.”

“I heard a curious story,” put in Harry Curtiss.  “My uncle had dinner at the old man’s house the other night, and asked him what he thought of the market.  ‘I can tell you in a sentence,’ was the answer.  ‘For the first time in my life I don’t own a security.’”

The General gave an exclamation of surprise.  “Did he really say that?” he asked.  “Then one can imagine that things will happen before long!”

“And one can imagine why the stock market is weak!” added the other, laughing.

At that moment the door of the dining-room was opened, and Mrs. Prentice appeared.  “Are you men going to talk business all evening?” she asked.  “If so, come into the drawing-room, and talk it to us.”

They arose and followed her, and Montague seated himself upon a sofa with Mrs. Prentice and the younger man.

“What were you saying of Dan Waterman?” she asked of the latter.

“Oh, it’s a long story,” said Curtiss.  “You ladies don’t care anything about Waterman.”

Montague had been watching Lucy out of the corner of his eye, and he could not forbear a slight smile.

“What a wonderful man he is!” said Mrs. Prentice.  “I admire him more than any man I know of in Wall Street.”  Then she turned to Montague.  “Have you met him?”

“Yes,” said he; and added with a mischievous smile, “I saw him to-day.”

“I saw him last Sunday night,” said Mrs. Prentice, guilelessly.  “It was at the Church of the Holy Virgin, where he passes the collection-plate.  Isn’t it admirable that a man who has as much on his mind as Mr. Waterman has, should still save time for the affairs of his church?”

And Montague looked again at Lucy, and saw that she was biting her lip.