Not upon the windows only did the sunbeams fall, we say, but they penetrated the darkened rooms and fell upon the dead man; and here they played softly upon his whitened hair, and stole about the room as if they sought for somebody whom he loved that they might bring them to his side. Through every cleft and crevice the morning sunbeams streamed; a thousand motes sprang up and danced in the columns of light, as if they mocked the grave; and a reflection from the merchant’s watch-seals trembled like an active eye upon the wall.

Still the merchant slept on in his long, long sleep, until at length the sun rose higher and higher, paling with his growing radiance the gaudy colours of his throne, and sending forth streams of purer and brighter light. By-and-by a door was opened in the quiet room, followed by an expression of horror and amazement, and then hurried footsteps came and went, additional doors were opened and shut, and in a few minutes the household was astir, heavily laden with the morning’s sad discovery.

CHAPTER III.
“ARCADES AMBO,” BUT FLOURISHING NEVERTHELESS.

All this time Richard Tallant had remained in London; not only remained in London, but had regularly and assiduously attended to his duties at the offices of the Meter Iron Works Company.

There had been numerous board meetings, and a half-hearted kind of effort had been made to induce the chairman’s son to retire. Mr. Christopher Tallant had given notice of his resignation; but the board could not agree upon the question of his successor. Mr. Richard Tallant attended every meeting, and had increased his holding of the company’s stock to a large and important extent.

In his father’s absence he had made himself of value to the company; the run upon their shares had been of brief duration; they had not only speedily recovered, but had gone up to a heavy premium. Richard Tallant held his own in the company with a tenacity that surprised everybody connected with it. Unabashed by the disclosures at the Oriental Bank, undaunted by newspaper attacks, since that notorious meeting when his father left the chair of the Banking Company, he had been almost ubiquitous. He had commenced actions against two newspapers for libel, and had threatened others. Some of his former friends cut him dead in the Stock Exchange and in the Park; but he defied them all, and was to be seen as usual at the Corner, on ’Change, and at Westminster.

He had written a long letter full of excuses, and promises, and regrets, and justification to his father; but the proud old merchant did not even acknowledge it. His disgrace was not so much as a nine days’ wonder in the City, and his continued success was considered, by many, to be a sufficient justification of his conduct.

Amidst so many failures, with such numerous instances of sharping, and in the presence of a panic so severe, Richard Tallant’s name soon ceased to be canvassed: he paid every call that was made upon him, and he maintained his reputation for wealth. It was known that he had made enormous sums of money in recent speculations, and that he was financially independent. So many men were shaking in their commercial shoes, that few thought themselves able to afford to go out of their way to interfere with a rich man.

“What have I done?” Mr. Richard Tallant asked at one of the Meter Board Meetings, when he was attacked by an old friend of his father. “What have I done more than others have done, and are doing daily?”

“You have circulated false reports to damage the credit of good concerns, in order that you might make money by clever manipulations of shares,” said his opponent.