Hankes actually bounded on his chair. Had he been the faithful servant of some learned alchemist, watching patiently for years the wondrous manipulations and subtle combinations of his master, following him from crucible to crucible and from alembic to alembic, till the glorious moment when, out of smoke and vapor, the yellow glow of the long-sought metal gleamed before his eyes, he could not have regarded his chief with a more devoted homage. Dunn read “worship” in every lineament of the other's face. It was as honest veneration as his nature could compass, and, sooth to say, the great man liked it, and sniffed his incense with the-air of Jove himself. “I mean to take care of you, Hankes,” said he, with a bland protectiveness. “I do not readily forget the men who have served me faithfully. Of course we must draw out of all our enterprises here. I intend at once to realize--yes, Hankes--to realize a certain comfortable sum and withdraw.” These were not very explicit nor very determinate expressions, but they were amply intelligible to him who heard them. “To wind up, sir, in short,” said Hankes, significantly. “Yes, Hankes, 'to wind up.'” “A difficult matter,--a very difficult matter, sir.” “Difficulties have never deterred me from anything, Mr. Hankes. The only real difficulty I acknowledge in life is to choose which of them I will adopt; that done, the rest is matter of mere detail.” Mr. Dunn now seated himself at a table, and in the calm and quiet tone with which he treated every business question, he explained to Hankes his views on each of the great interests he was concerned in. Shares in home speculations were to be first exchanged for foreign scrip, and these afterwards sold. Of the vast securities of private individuals pledged for loans, or given as guarantees, only such were to be redeemed as belonged to persons over whom Dunn had no control. Depositary as he was of family secrets, charged with the mysterious knowledge of facts whose publication would bring ruin and disgrace on many, this knowledge was to have its price and its reward; and as he ran his finger down the list of names so compromised, Hankes could mark the savage exultation of his look while he muttered unintelligibly to himself. Dunn stopped at the name of the Viscount Lackington, and, leaning his head on his hand, said, “Don't let us forget that message to Malta.” “A heavy charge that, sir,” said Hankes. “The Ossory has got all his Lordship's titles; and we have set them down, too, for twenty-one thousand seven hundred above their value.” “Do you know who is the Viscount Lackington?” asked Dunn, with a strange significance. “No, sir.” “Neither do I,” said Dunn, hurriedly following him. “Mayhap it may cost some thousands of pounds and some tiresome talk to decide that question; at all events, it will cost you or me nothing.” “The Earl of Glengariff's claim must, I suppose, be satisfied, sir?”