"Does Chésy sometimes speak to you of his affairs?"
"Sometimes," answered the young woman, "as he does to everybody. You know he has an idea that he is one of the shrewdest on the Bourse, and he is very glad to talk about it."
"Has he told you," Marsh continued, "that he is speculating in mining stocks?"
"Very likely. I do not listen to him."
"I heard him say so," the American said, "and just a moment ago, after tea, and I am still upset by it. And there are not many things that can worry me. At this moment," he continued, looking at Madame de Chésy, who was talking with Hautefeuille, "this charming Vicomtesse Yvonne is, beyond doubt, ruined; absolutely, radically ruined."
"That is impossible. Chésy is advised by Brion, who, I have heard, is one of the best financiers of the day."
"Pooh!" said Dickie Marsh, "he would be swallowed in one mouthful in Wall Street. As for the small affairs on this side of the water, he understands them well enough. But it is just because he understands them that his advice will ruin Chésy. It will not bore you to have me explain how and why I am sure that a crash is coming in that famous silver mine syndicate which you have at least heard of. All those who buy for a rise—whom we call the bulls—will be caught. Chésy has a fortune of $300,000. He explained his position to me; he will lose $250,000. If it has not happened already, it will happen to-morrow."
"And you have told him all that?"
"What's the use?" the American replied. "It would only spoil his trip. And then it will be time enough at Genoa, where he can telegraph. But you, Baroness, will help me to do them a real service. You see that if Brion advises Chésy to join the bulls, it is because he himself is with the bears. That is our name for those who play for a decline. All this is legitimate. It is a battle. Each one for himself. All the financiers who give advice to men of society do the same, and they are right. Only Brion has still another reason: imagine Madame de Chésy with an income of ten thousand francs.—You understand."
"It is ignoble enough for him, that calculation," Ely said with disgust. "But how can I help you to prevent that scoundrel from proposing to the poor little woman to be his paid mistress, since that is certainly what you mean?"