ect himself. He felt as might one who has been
staring at the sun. Storri's picture of an enterprise so vast that it
proposed to set out the world like a mighty pan of milk, and skim the
cream from two hemispheres, dazzled him and caused his wits to lose
their way.

At the end of three days Mr. Harley had begun to get his bearings; he
was still fascinated, but the fog was lifting. Step by step he went over
Storri's grand proposals; and, while he had now his eyes, each step
seemed only to take him more deeply into a wilderness of admiration.
That very admiration filled him with a sense of dull alarm. He resolved
to have other counsel than his own. Were he and Storri to embark upon
this world-girdling enterprise, they must have money-help. He would take
the project to certain money-loving souls; he would get their opinions
by asking their aid.

Mr. Harley went to New York and called about him a quintette of
gentlemen, each of whom had been with him and Senator Hanway in more
than one affair of shady profit. Mankind does not change, its methods
change, and trade has still its Kidds and Blackbeards. Present commerce
has its pirates and its piracies; only the buccaneers of now do not
launch ships, but stock companies, while Wall and Broad Streets are
their Spanish Main. They do not, like Francis Drake, lay off and on at
the Isthmus to stop plate ships; they seek their galleons in the Stock
Exchange. Those five to gather at the call of Mr. Harley were of our
modern Drakes. He told them, under seal of secrecy, Storri's programme,
and put before them the documents, Russian, Canadian, and Chinese.

Mr. Harley felt somewhat justified of his own enthusiasm when he
observed the serious glow in the eyes of those five. They sent to Mott
Street, and brought back a learned Oriental to translate the Chinese
silk. The Mott Street one, himself a substantial merchant and a Mongol
of high caste, appeared wrapped in rustling brocades and an odor of
opium. When he beheld the yellow silk he bent himself, and smote the
floor three times with his forehead. More than anything told by Mr.
Harley did this profound obeisance of the Mott Street Oriental leave its
impress upon the five. They, themselves, bowed to nothing save gold; the
silken document must record a franchise of gravity and money-moment to
thus set their visitor to beating the carpet with his head! Having done
due honor to the Emperor's signature, the Mott Street one gave Mr.
Harley