It was strange, even to him, at this point of his career, that he felt within himself no power to change his course.  No one knew better than he, that there was money enough in Benedict’s inventions for both inventor and manufacturer.  No one knew better than he, that there was a prosperous course for himself inside the pale of equity and law, yet he found no motive to walk there.  For the steps he had taken, there seemed no retreat.  He must go on, on, to the end.  The doors that led back to his old life had closed behind him.  Those which opened before were not inviting, but he could not stand still.  So he hardened his face, braced his nerves, stiffened his determination, and went on.

Of course he passed a wretched summer.  He had intended to get away for rest, or, rather, for an exhibition of himself and his equipage at Newport, or Saratoga, or Long Branch; but through all the burning days of the season he was obliged to remain in the city, while other men were away and off their guard, to watch his Wall street operations, and prepare for the coup de grace by which he hoped to regain his lost treasure and his forfeited position.  The legal trial that loomed up before him, among the clouds of autumn, could not be contemplated without a shiver, and a sinking of the heart.  His preparations for it were very simple, as they mainly related to the establishment of the genuineness of his assignment.

The months flew away more rapidly with the proprietor than with any of the other parties interested in the suit, and when, at last, only a fortnight was wanting to the time of the expected trial, Mr. Balfour wrote to Number Nine, ordering his family home, and requiring the presence of Mr. Benedict, Mrs. Dillingham, Harry and Jim.

Just at this time, the General found himself in fresh difficulty.  The corner in Muscogee Air Line, was as evasive as a huckleberry in a mouth bereft of its armament.  Indeed, to use still further the homely but suggestive figure, the General found that his tongue was in more danger than his huckleberry.  His notes, too, secured by fraudulent collaterals, were approaching a second and third maturity.  He was without ready money for the re-purchase of his Crooked Valley stock, and had learned, in addition, that the stock had already changed hands, in the execution of a purpose which he more than suspected.  Large purchases of material for the execution of heavy contracts in his manufactures had drained his ready resources, in the department of his regular business.  He was getting short, and into a tight place.  Still he was desperate, and determined to sacrifice nothing.