Having money still to spend, it must find a market in other directions.  He gave lavish entertainments at his club, at which wine flowed like water, and at which young and idle men were gathered in and debauched, night after night.  He was surrounded by a group of flatterers who laughed at his jokes, repeated them to the public, humored his caprices, and lived upon his hospitalities.  The plain “Colonel Belcher” of his first few months in New York, grew into the “General,” so that Wall street knew him, at last, by that title, without the speaking of his name.  All made way for “the General” whenever he appeared.  “The General” was “bulling” this stock, and “bearing” that.  All this was honey to his palate, and he was enabled to forget something of his desire for show in his love of glory.  Power was sweet, as well as display.

Of course, “the General” had forsaken, somewhat, his orderly habits of life—­those which kept him sound and strong in his old country home.  He spent few evenings with his family.  There was so genuine a passion in his heart for Mrs. Dillingham, that he went into few excesses which compromised a fair degree of truthfulness to her; but he was in the theaters, in the resorts of fast men, among the clubs, and always late in his bed.  Phipps had a hard time in looking after and waiting upon him, but had a kind of sympathetic enjoyment in it all, because he knew there was more or less of wickedness connected with it.

Mr. Belcher’s nights began to tell upon his days.  It became hard for him to rise at his old hours; so, after a while, he received the calls of his brokers in bed.  From nine to ten, Mr. Belcher, in his embroidered dressing-gown, with his breakfast at his side, gave his orders for the operations of the day.  The bedroom became the General’s headquarters, and there his staff gathered around him.  Half a dozen cabs and carriages at his door in the morning became a daily recurring vision to residents and habitual passengers.

Mr. Talbot, not a regular visitor at this hour, sometimes mingled with the brokers, though he usually came late for the purpose of a private interview.  He had managed to retain the General’s favor, and to be of such use to him that that gentleman, in his remarkable prosperity, had given up the idea of reducing his factor’s profits.

One morning, after the brokers and the General’s lawyer were gone, Talbot entered, and found his principal still in bed.

“Toll, it’s a big thing,” said Mr. Belcher.

“I believe you.”

“Toll, what did I tell you?  I’ve always worked to a programme, and exactly this was my programme when I came here.  How’s your wife?”

“Quite well.”

“Why don’t we see more of her?”

“Well, Mrs. Talbot is a quiet woman, and knows her place.  She isn’t quite at home in such splendors as yours, you know, and she naturally recognizes my relations to you.”

“Oh, nonsense, nonsense, Toll!  She mustn’t feel that way.  I like her.  She is a devilish handsome woman.”