without any of that harassing delay to which
other less fortunate candidates are subjected.

And,--let it be said with regret, for Paul Montague was at heart honest
and well-conditioned,--he took to living a good deal at the Beargarden.
A man must dine somewhere, and everybody knows that a man dines
cheaper at his club than elsewhere. It was thus he reasoned with
himself. But Paul's dinners at the Beargarden were not cheap. He saw a
good deal of his brother directors, Sir Felix Carbury and Lord
Nidderdale, entertained Lord Alfred more than once at the club, and
had twice dined with his great chairman amidst all the magnificence of
merchant-princely hospitality in Grosvenor Square. It had indeed been
suggested to him by Mr Fisker that he also ought to enter himself for
the great Marie Melmotte plate. Lord Nidderdale had again declared his
intention of running, owing to considerable pressure put upon him by
certain interested tradesmen, and with this intention had become one
of the directors of the Mexican Railway Company. At the time, however,
of which we are now writing, Sir Felix was the favourite for the race
among fashionable circles generally.

The middle of April had come, and Fisker was still in London. When
millions of dollars are at stake,--belonging perhaps to widows and
orphans, as Fisker remarked,--a man was forced to set his own
convenience on one side. But this devotion was not left without
reward, for Mr Fisker had 'a good time' in London. He also was made
free of the Beargarden, as an honorary member, and he also spent a
good deal of money. But there is this comfort in great affairs, that
whatever you spend on yourself can be no more than a trifle. Champagne
and ginger-beer are all the same when you stand to win or lose
thousands,--with this only difference, that champagne may have
deteriorating results which the more innocent beverage will not
produce. The feeling that the greatness of these operations relieved
them from the necessity of looking to small expenses operated in the
champagne direction, both on Fisker and Montague, and the result was
deleterious. The Beargarden, no doubt, was a more lively place than
Carbury Manor, but Montague found that he could not wake up on these
London mornings with thoughts as satisfactory as those which attended
his pillow at the old Manor House.

On Saturday, the 19th of April, Fisker was to leave London on his
return to New York, and on the 18th a farewell dinne