It was a big thing; a thing to dream and wonder and calculate about.
When he was puzzled or disturbed he would resort to the shell--a thing
he had clung tenaciously to through all the years--sitting before it a
long time, his eyes fixed upon it with hypnotic tensity.
What should it mean to him? How was his life to be modified by it? He
did not doubt that changes would now ensue. He was already bolder in the
public eye. If people stared superciliously at him, he sometimes stared
back. That aggressive stout man could not now have bullied him out of
his seat in the car with any mere looks.
The phrase "Napoleon of Finance" had stayed in his mind. Modernly the
name seemed briefly to suggest some one who made a lot of money out of
nothing but audacity. Certainly it was not being applied to soldiers or
statesmen. This was interesting. If he made a lot of money he could move
to the country and have plenty of room for the dog. And it seemed about
the only field of adventure left for this peculiar genius. He began to
think about making money. He knew vaguely how this was done: you bought
stocks and then waited for the melon to be cut. You got on the inside of
things. You were found to have bought up securities that trebled in
value over night. Those that decreased in value had been bought by
people who were not Napoleons. That was the gist of it. A Napoleonic
mind would divine the way.
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