"The fact that we are both on the yacht will steady the market. But we
can drop in at Long Branch and receive despatches if you think it
necessary."

"All right," said the General, much relieved. "I'll meet you at Twenty-
third Street at eight o'clock Friday morning, then."

Druce's yacht, the _Seahound_, was a magnificent steamer, almost
as large as an Atlantic liner. It was currently believed in New York
that Druce kept her for the sole purpose of being able to escape in
her, should an exasperated country ever rise in its might and demand
his blood. It was rumoured that the _Seahound_ was ballasted with
bars of solid gold and provisioned for a two years' cruise. Mr. Buller,
however, claimed that the tendency of nature was to revert to original
conditions, and that some fine morning Druce would hoist the black
flag, sail away, and become a _real_ pirate.

The great speculator, in a very nautical suit, was waiting for the
General when he drove up, and, the moment he came aboard, lines were
cast off and the Seahound steamed slowly down the bay. The morning was
rather thick, so they were obliged to move cautiously, and before they
reached the bar the fog came down so densely that they had to stop,
while bell rang and whistle blew. They were held there until it was
nearly eleven o'clock, but time passed quickly, for there were all the
morning papers to read, neither of the men having had an opportunity to
look at them before leaving the city.

As the fog cleared away and the engines began to move, the captain sent
down and asked Mr. Druce if he would come on deck for a moment. The
captain was a shrewd man, and understood his employer.