“When the Corporation was formed he played a big part in the deal and got a big slice of the profits.  He had been successful, noted:  at one turn of the wheel he became enormously wealthy.  The story of Alladin is nothing to the story of the men who took part in that combination.  Hammon went into other things than steel, and he prospered.  He never failed at anything.  Now, here comes the part of the story that interests me most of all and will interest you if you can understand the workings of a man’s mind.  Jarvis had no vices and but one hobby—­at least his vices were neutral, for he had never taken time to acquire the positive kind.  His hobby was Napoleon Bonaparte.  He read everything there was to read about Napoleon; he studied his life and patterned his own on similar lines.  His collection of Napoleona is the finest in this country; he is an authority on French history of that period—­in fact, he’s as nearly hipped on the subject as a man of his powers can be considered hipped on anything.  Do I bore you, Miss Knight?”

“No; go on.  I’m tremendously interested.”

“Well, naturally, Hammon began to consider himself another Napoleon, and his accomplishments were in a way quite as wonderful; his strategy was quite as brilliant, and his victories quite as complete.  He even confided to me once that his idol surpassed him in only one respect—­namely, the power to relax—­a pardonable conceit, under the circumstances.  Jarvis had never taken time for relaxation, and he was beginning to wear out; and so—­he deliberately set about learning to play.  The Emperor of France, so history tells us, took his greatest pleasure in the company of women; therefore Hammon sought women, just as he had sought and gained financial conquest.  He doesn’t know the taste of defeat; so the result was fore-ordained.”

“But surely he thought something of his family,” protested Lorelei.  “Didn’t he consider them?”

“I fancy he wasn’t well acquainted with his family.  I’m sure he never enjoyed any home life, as we understand it.  He lived with a rich old woman who bore his name but scarcely knew him; his daughters were grown women whom he saw on rare occasions and whose extravagant whims he gratified without question.  But there was little real intimacy, little sympathy.  Remember, Jarvis had been a boy, but he had never been young, and this was his first taste of youth, But—­he was not Napoleon.  As you’ve noticed, he’s quite mad on the Lynn woman.  He’s no longer himself.  He has been drugged by her charms, and—­now he’s paying the price.  I wanted you to know the story before we went any further.  Now tell me what you have learned.”

CHAPTER VII