“Yes. I trembled a little, for he looked at me steadily with those stern eyes; but believing me to be dead years ago, he did not suspect. Oh, sir! imagine my feelings in this house, where but for that one fatal indiscretion I even now might be the proud and happy mistress. God give me courage and strength to warn others to avoid the rocks upon which my life was wrecked.” “Amen!” says Aleck solemnly, for he feels as though he is in the presence of a priestess. She turns and leaves him, as some ladies need her assistance. Aleck reflects upon the strange combination of circumstances that have been grouped amid these scenes of pleasure and beauty. The guests move about, singing takes place, with occasional gentle serenades by the company of musicians hidden among the palms and ferns; and none of them even suspect what an undercurrent of human tragedy is occurring beneath the placid surface. Apparently all is mirth and good cheer; people nowadays do not carry their hearts on their sleeves. The swan is said to sing as it dies. Brave mariners on the stormy deep go down with colors flying. So, in this day of sudden changes, men have laughed and joked merrily over yawning financial graves, taking the old saying to heart, “Let us eat, drink, and be merry, for to-morrow we die.” Will a thunderbolt drop from this clear sky and bring consternation among those present? Again he observes Samson Cereal and notes a certain fact. His son has come, and everything passed off well, yet the look of concern is still upon the father’s face, and he glances ever and anon in the direction of the door, as though he longs for yet dreads the coming of _something_. Surely this man cannot fear the Turk. Aleck shakes his head negatively at the thought. There is something of the lion in the operator’s make-up. He was a soldier in the war--a young captain at the time he fell in love with the Kentucky girl, Adela; and his reputation has always been that of a brave man. Many a time has he met the masses on the financial battleground, and rolled back the mad assault with the strength of his will. This is hardly the man to fear Scutari at home, when he braved the powerful pasha upon the latter’s own ground. Something else worries him, of which Aleck is ignorant. He puts two or three things together and then readies a decision. “I believe it is the expected telegram. Perhaps he has big issues at stake. The life of a speculator is not all rose-colored, I can see,” the Canadian mutters. By and by Aleck chances to run across the man from Colorado, who greets him with the warmth that is a part of his nature; and the hand-shake that follows is marked by unusual vigor. “No need of my asking why you are here, Colonel Rocket,” he says meaningly.