them than perhaps you give him credit
for.'

'He may easily do that.'

'Well, well. Perhaps you don't know quite as well as I do.' The scowl
began to appear on Mr Melmotte's brow. Hitherto it had been banished
as well as he knew how to banish it. 'What I wanted to say to you was
this. We didn't quite agree at the last meeting.'

'No; we did not.'

'I was very sorry for it. Unanimity is everything in the direction of
such an undertaking as this. With unanimity we can do--everything.' Mr
Melmotte in the ecstasy of his enthusiasm lifted up both his hands
over his head. 'Without unanimity we can do--nothing.' And the two
hands fell. 'Unanimity should be printed everywhere about a
Board-room. It should, indeed, Mr Montague.'

'But suppose the directors are not unanimous.'

'They should be unanimous. They should make themselves unanimous. God
bless my soul! You don't want to see the thing fall to pieces!'

'Not if it can be carried on honestly.'

'Honestly! Who says that anything is dishonest?' Again the brow
became very heavy. 'Look here, Mr Montague. If you and I quarrel in
the Board-room, there is no knowing the amount of evil we may do to
every individual shareholder in the Company. I find the responsibility
on my shoulders so great that I say the thing must be stopped. Damme,
Mr Montague, it must be stopped. We mustn't ruin widows and children,
Mr Montague. We mustn't let those shares run down 20 below par for a
mere chimera. I've known a fine property blasted, Mr Montague, sent
straight to the dogs,--annihilated, sir;--so that it all vanished into
thin air, and widows and children past counting were sent out to
starve about the streets,--just because one director sat in another
director's chair. I did, by G--! What do you think of that, Mr
Montague? Gentlemen who don't know the nature of credit, how strong it
is,--as the air,--to buoy you up; how slight it is,--as a mere vapour,--
when roughly touched, can do an amount of mischief of which they
themselves don't in the least understand the extent! What is it you
want, Mr Montague?'

'What do I want?' Melmotte's description of the peculiar
susceptibility of great mercantile speculations had not been given
without some effect on Montague, but this direct appeal to himself
almost drove that effect out of his mind. 'I only want justice.'

'But you should know what justice is before you demand it at the
expense of other people. Look here, Mr Montague. I suppose