They implored him with eyes in which panic asserted itself
above rage and cunning. Only here and there did he recall
a name with which to label one of these countenances;
very few of them raised a memory of individual rancour.
The faces were those of men he had seen, no doubt,
but their persecution of him had been impersonal;
his great revenge was equally so. As he looked, in truth,
there was only one face--a composite mask of what he
had done battle with, and overthrown, and would trample
implacably under foot. He stared with a conqueror's
cold frown at it, and gave an abrupt laugh which started
harsh echoes in the stillness of the Board Room. Then he
shook off the reverie, and got to his feet. He shivered
a little at the sudden touch of a chill.

A bottle of brandy, surrounded by glasses, stood on the
table where the two least-considered of his lieutenants,
the dummy Directors, had left it. He poured a small quantity
and sipped it. During the whole eventful day it had not
occurred to him before to drink; the taste of the neat
liquor seemed on the instant to calm and refresh his brain.
With more deliberation, he took a cigar from the broad,
floridly-decorated open box beside the bottle, lit it,
and blew a long draught of smoke thoughtfully through
his nostrils. Then he put his hands in his pockets,
looked again into the fire, and sighed a wondering smile.
God in heaven! it was actually true!

This man of forty found himself fluttering with a novel
exhilaration, which yet was not novel. Upon reflection,