n instant, the hard fire of ruthless conquest burned so fiercely in
Hamilton Burton's eyes that Paul drew back and shuddered, then he heard
the quiet voice continuing. "I am now rated among the first few in the
world of American finance. There are others above me. I am one of twelve
or fifteen. When this storm has taken its toll and spent its rage--then
I shall be one of one, and above me there will be--no other man."

* * * * *

At the same time, though the twenty-four figured dials of Italian clocks
recorded a later hour, a young man of more than ordinarily likable
appearance sat alone at a terrace table of a Capri inn. Near by a
company of sashed and spangled peasants danced to the accompaniment of
guitars and mandolins, but he did not seem to see them and when they
presented their tambourines for largesse, he roused himself almost with
a start to search his pockets for _lire_.

Behind him were the colorful and steep vistas that lay along the zig-zag
roads where ramshackle victorias clattered at crazy speed. Below him was
the world's most vivid spread of sun-kissed color; the Bay of Naples
curving nobly from his point of view to Ischia's misty bulwark, in a
glistening spread of sapphire. Standing guard over the picture was the
great cone of Vesuvius. But of these things also the solitary young man
seemed oblivious.

Against his wicker-bound carafe of pale Capri wine stood propped an old
Paris edition of the _New York Herald_. It was folded so that a portrait
of a woman could be seen to the best advantage, and to the exclusion of
flagstoned courtyards and trellised, overhanging vines; to the exclusion
of the bay's great jewel of beauty, this picture held the eyes of the
man who lunched alone. They were good eyes, of the sort that look life
straight in the face, and their pupils were such as impress the beholder
with a conviction of fearless integrity. Now they were preoccupied, and
a little annoyed. Even in the lifelessness of black and white the face
he studied was one of remarkable beauty, and it pleased him to imagine
the wonderful difference and illumination which color and swift play of
expression would bring to its features.

For several reasons, the face was of more than commonplace interest to
him. Years ago he had seen it by a roadside in the White Mountains, and
often since he had thought of it until the thought had taken deep root
in his mind and become one of the pleasant