any figure on the turf."

"There you are all wrong; there never yet was the place, or the station,
where that man would n't have distinguished himself. Why, it was that
marvellous power of his kept me with him for years back. I knew all that
was going on. I knew that we hadn't--so to say--coals for one boiler
while we had forty engines in full stroke; but I could n't get away. It
was a sort of fascination; and when he 'd strike out a new scheme, and
say carelessly, 'Call the capital one million, Hankes,' he spoke like
a man that had only to put his hand in a bag and produce the money.
Nothing daunted, nothing deterred him. He'd smash a rival company as
coolly as you 'd crush a shell under your heel, and he 'd turn out a
Government with the same indifference he 'd discharge a footman."

"Well," grumbled out Grog, at last, for he was getting irritable at the
exaggerated estimate Hankes formed of his chief, "what has it all come
to? Ain't he smashed at last?"

"_He_ smashed!" cried Hankes, in derision. "_He_ smashed! _You_ are
smashed! I am smashed! any one else you like is smashed, but _he_ is
not! Mind my words, Davis, Davenport Dunn will be back here, in London,
before two years are over, with the grandest house and the finest
retinue in town. His dinners will be the best, and his balls the most
splendid of the season. No club will rival his cook, no equipage beat
his in the Park. When he rises in the Lords,--which he 'll do only
seldom,--there will be a most courteous attention to his words; and,
above all, you'll never read one disparaging word about him in the
papers. I give him two years, but it's just as likely he 'll do it in
less."

"It may be all as you say," said Grog, sullenly, "though I won't say I
believe it myself; but, at all events, it does n't help _me_ on my way
to my own business with him. I want these papers of Lackington's out of
his hands! He may 'walk into' the whole world, for all that I care:
but I want to secure _my_ daughter as the Viscountess,--that's how it
stands."

"How much ready money can you command? What sum can you lay your hand
on?"

Grog drew his much-worn pocket-book from his breast, and, opening the
leaves, began to count to himself.

"Something like fifty-seven pounds odd shillings," said he, with a grin.

"If you could have said twelve or fourteen thousand down, it might be
nearer the mark. Conway's people are ready with about ten thousand."

"How do you know?" asked G