XVI. LEANDER BABEROSSY
XVII. MR. MARGARI
XVIII. THE UNDISCOVERABLE LADY
XIX. THE SHAKING HAND
XX. THE FIGHT FOR THE GOLD
XXI. THE HUNTED BEAST
XXII. THE SIGHT OF TERROR
XXIII. THE ACCOMMODATION
XXIV. CONCLUSION




POOR PLUTOCRATS

CHAPTER I

BOREDOM


"Was it you who yawned so, Clementina?"

Nobody answered.

The questioner was an old gentleman in his eightieth year or so, dressed
in a splendid flowered silk Kaftan, with a woollen night-cap on his
head, warm cotton stockings on his feet, and diamond, turquoise, and
ruby rings on his fingers. He was reclining on an atlas ottoman, his
face was as wooden as a mummy's, a mere patch-work of wrinkles, he had a
dry, thin, pointed nose, shaggy, autumnal-yellow eyebrows, and his large