Poor little Alice!

CHAPTER XII.

THE BEGINNING OF THE END.

The flurry in the money-market gradually increased to a storm.  Confidence was destroyed, and business at a stand.  The daily bulletins of failures formed the chief topic of conversation.  The merchants and bankers, especially those who held Western lands, Western securities, or Western credits, went down one after another.  Houses tumbled like a row of bricks.  No class was safe at a time when the relations of debtor and creditor were so complicated and so universal.  Stocks went down with a run.  Bullion was not disappointed in his calculations, and Fletcher, in spite of his insane whims upon the subject of chances, proved himself shrewd, vigilant, and energetic.  Flushed with success, he made bolder ventures, and the daily balances grew to be enormous.  Within the first fortnight, Bullion had given Fletcher notes for over five thousand dollars as his share of the profits.  The brokers, even, were astonished at the silent but all-powerful influence that pressed upon the market, bringing the best stocks down till they sold like damaged goods at a sheriff’s auction.  But Tonsor, the lucky agent, kept his counsel.  Daily he attended the sales at the Board, with apparently exhaustless resources, bearing pitilessly, triumphantly, until the unlucky bulls came to think the sight of his face was an ill omen.

Of all men, Sandford felt this steady, determined pressure most keenly.  To sustain the credit of those in whose affairs he was concerned, he was obliged from time to time to put under the hammer stocks which had been placed in his hands.  Every sale showed the value of these securities to be sinking, until it really seemed that they would come to be as worthless as the old Continental currency.  But neither he nor other sufferers had any remedy;—­stocks were worth only what they would bring; prices must take care of themselves; and the calm, determined bids of Tonsor were like the voice of Fate.

In his extremity, Sandford thought of Monroe, and remembering his own personal responsibility for the sum he had received, he determined to “hedge.”  So he sent for Monroe; he showed him the notes, all amply secured, if any man’s name could be said to give security.

“You see,” said Sandford, “how careful I have been.  Two good names on every note.  They may fail, it is true.  So stocks may go for a song, and universal bankruptcy follow.  See, there is a note signed by Flint, Steel, & Co., and indorsed by Lameduck, another by Kiteflyer and Co., indorsed by Burntwick, and this by Stearine & Star, indorsed by Bullion.  Every dollar will yield at least the eight per cent.  I promised.”

“The names are good, I should think.—­as long as anybody is good,” said Monroe.  “Still I should feel safer with a mortgage, or even with stocks; for if these do go down, they will come up again.”