and
robbing the people. The upset milking-stool was righted, and the milker was
seated again and busy, the good old cow standing without so much as shake
of horn or switch of tail. "Mulholland," said I, "what do you think of this
business of living?"

"I'll tell you, Mr. Blacklock," said he. "I used to fuss and fret a good
deal about it. But I don't any more. I've got a house up in the Bronx,
and a bit of land round it. And there's Mrs. Mulholland and four little
Mulhollands and me--that's my country and my party and my religion. The
rest is off my beat, and I don't give a damn for it. I don't care which
fakir gets to be president, or which swindler gets to be rich. Everything
works out somehow, and the best any man can do is to mind his own
business."

"Mulholland--Mrs. Mulholland--four little Mulhollands," said I
reflectively. "That's about as much as one man could attend to properly.
And--you are 'on the level,' aren't you?"

"Some say honesty's the best policy," replied he. "Some say it isn't. I
don't know, and I don't care, whether it is or it isn't. It's _my_
policy. And we six seem to have got along on it so far."

I sent my "guests" ashore the next morning.

"No, I'll stay aboard," said I to Mulholland, as he stood aside for me to
precede him down the gangway from the launch. I went into the watch-pocket
of my trousers and drew out the folded two one-thousand-dollar bills I
always carried--it was a habit formed in my youthful, gambling days. I
handed him one of the bills. He hesitated.

"For the four little Mulhollands," I urged.

He put it in his pocket. I watched him and his men depart with a heavy
heart. I felt alone, horribly alone, without a tie or an interest. Some of
the morning papers spoke respectfully of me as one of the strong men who
had ridden the flood and had been landed by it on the heights of wealth
and power. Admiration and envy lurked even in sneers at my "unscrupulous
plotting." Since I had wealth, plenty of wealth, I did not need character.
Of what use was character in such a world except as a commodity to exchange
for wealth?

"Any orders, sir?" interrupted my captain.

I looked round that vast and vivid scene of sea and land activities. I
looked along the city's titanic sky-line--the mighty fortresses of trade
and commerce piercing the heavens and flinging to the wind their black
banners of defiance. I felt that I was under the walls of hell itself.

"To get away from this," re