a of Mr. Watling and the vision of Krebs
might coincide? I was struck by a certain seeming similarity in their
views; but Mr. Watling interrupted this train of thought by continuing
to express his own.

"Well,--they're running right into a gale when they might be sailing
with it," he said.

"You think we'll have more trouble?" I asked.

"More and more," he replied. "It'll be worse before it's better I'm
afraid." At this moment a club servant announced his cab, and he rose.
"Well, good-bye, my son," he said. "I'll hope to see you in Washington
soon. And remember there's no one thinks any more of you than I do."

I escorted him to the door, and it was with a real pang I saw him wave
to me from his cab as he drove away. My affection for him was never more
alive than in this hour when, for the first time in my experience, he
had given real evidence of an inner anxiety and lack of confidence in
the future.

XXI.

In spite of that unwonted note of pessimism from Mr. Watling, I went
home in a day or two flushed with my new honours, and it was
impossible not to be conscious of the fact that my aura of prestige was
increased--tremendously increased--by the recognition I had received. A
certain subtle deference in the attitude of the small minority who
owed allegiance to the personage by whom I had been summoned was more
satisfying than if I had been acclaimed at the station by thousands
of my fellow-citizens who knew nothing of my journey and of its
significance, even though it might have a concern for them. To men like
Berringer, Grierson and Tallant and our lesser great lights the banker
was a semi-mythical figure, and many times on the day of my return I was
stopped on the street to satisfy the curiosity of my friends as to
my impressions. Had he, for instance, let fall any opinions,
prognostications on the political and financial situation? Dickinson
and Scherer were the only other men in the city who had the honour of a
personal acquaintance with him, and Scherer was away, abroad, gathering
furniture and pictures for the house in New York Nancy had predicted,
and which he had already begun to build! With Dickinson I lunched in
private, in order to give him a detailed account of the conference. By
five o'clock I was ringing the door-bell of Nancy's new mansion on Grant
Avenue. It was several blocks below my own.

"Well, how does it feel to be sent for by the great sultan?" she
asked, as I stood before her fire