The world of business was stunned.  It went to bed one night, believing certain forces immutable, and awoke to find them overthrown and a ministry changed.  Along the chasms and canons that debouch from lower Broadway one question was insistently asked—­and went unanswered:  “What will he do next?” Perhaps the nearest approach to a reply was the prophecy of a cynical curb-broker—­“Whatever he damn pleases.”  One thing was definite.  While Hamilton Burton had forced the admiration of his world, he had forced it by the audacity of a strong grip on its throat and by bending it to its knees.

Such admiration is accorded a tyrant and carries scant love.  When the gong sounded in the Stock-Exchange it was an alarm and the faces on the floor were faces that mirrored fear of the day.  Yet the first transactions showed Hamilton Burton’s brokers standing like pillars under the shaky market.  As the day wore on these same lieutenants met and stemmed every tendency toward receding prices.  Several banks announced incipient runs and at once from the Burton treasury came a tide of gold, so that reassured depositors turned away smiling.

When the actual meeting of Coal and Ore stock-holders was called to order both Burton and Harrison were present in person.

“Before this vote is taken,” said Harrison, rising with a face upon which was indelibly stamped the grim determination of one so long victorious that defeat was unspeakably bitter, “I wish to be heard.  Though the registry of transfers tells the story in advance, I know as Hamilton Burton knows, that it is a victory for traitors.  If there is a chance that some of these may yet turn back from their treason, I want them to listen to me.”

Burton glanced about the table, where the mastery was his own.

“When I attend a meeting of this character,” he curtly announced, “we vote first, and whoever wishes to can talk after I have gone.”

Outside, as the two men left the room, waited the batteries of reporters.  On the threshold, the appearance of each was noted and flashed in first-page stories wherever news went.  The new One-man-power stood slender and strong, and tigerish; an incarnation of dominant youth and triumph.  Harrison might have been passing into exile, but he walked with his head high and eyes that met every questioning gaze with the forbidding glitter of a newly trapped and caged lion.  There was something about the man so suggestive of a broken warrior that the scribes whose duty was to interrogate refrained and stood respectfully silent as he passed between them.

But they questioned Burton and Burton smiled.  “Gentlemen,” he said in that velvety voice that fitted in so charmingly with the winning quality of his smile, “you know my rule.  I am never interviewed—­but you may announce that the Coal and Ore directorate will be reorganized.”