He read it again and again, and smoked, and walked to his glass, and coddled himself with complacent fancies.  He felt that all doors opened themselves widely to the man who had money, and the skill to carry it in his own magnificent way.  In the midst of pleasant thoughts, there came a rap at the door, and he received from the waiter’s little salver the card of his factor, “Mr. Benjamin Talbot.”  Mr. Talbot had read the “personal” which had so attracted and delighted himself, and had made haste to pay his respects to the principal from whose productions he was coining a fortune.

Mr. Talbot was the man of all others whom Mr. Belcher desired to see; so, with a glance at the card, he told the waiter promptly to show the gentleman up.

No man in the world understood Mr. Belcher better than the quick-witted and obsequious factor.  He had been in the habit, during the ten years in which he had handled Mr. Belcher’s goods, of devoting his whole time to the proprietor while that person was on his stated visits to the city.  He took him to his club to dine; he introduced him to congenial spirits; he went to the theater with him; he went with him to grosser resorts, which do not need to be named in these pages; he drove with him to the races; he took him to lunch at suburban hotels, frequented by fast men who drove fast horses; he ministered to every coarse taste and vulgar desire possessed by the man whose nature and graceless caprices he so carefully studied.  He did all this at his own expense, and at the same time he kept his principal out of the clutches of gamblers and sharpers.  It was for his interest to be of actual use to the man whose desires he aimed to gratify, and so to guard and shadow him that no deep harm would come to him.  It was for his interest to keep Mr. Belcher to himself, while he gave him the gratifications that a coarse man living in the country so naturally seeks among the opportunities and excitements of the city.

There was one thing, however, that Mr. Talbot had never done.  He had never taken Mr. Belcher to his home.  Mrs. Talbot did not wish to see him, and Mr. Talbot did not wish to have her see him.  He knew that Mr. Belcher, after his business was completed, wanted something besides a quiet dinner with women and children.  His leanings were not toward virtue, but toward safe and half-reputable vice; and exactly what he wanted consistent with his safety as a business man, Mr. Talbot wished to give him.  To nurse his good-will, to make himself useful, and, as far as possible, essential to the proprietor, and to keep him sound and make him last, was Mr. Talbot’s study and his most determined ambition.

Mr. Belcher was seated in a huge arm chair, with his back to the door and his feet in another chair, when the second rap came, and Mr. Talbot, with a radiant smile, entered.

“Well, Toll, my boy,” said the proprietor, keeping his seat without turning, and extending his left hand.  “How are you?  Glad to see you.  Come round to pay your respects to the Colonel, eh?  How’s business, and how’s your folks?”