The feeling was expressed by a gentleman rich in Exchange experiences when he said: "If I were to meet him in Broadway, I wouldn't believe it." And that experienced one spoke well.

For as the tiger, striped black and gold, is made to match and blend with the sun-slashed shadows of the jungle through which he hunts his prey, so was Mr.Bayard invisible in that speculation whereof he crouched a most formidable factor, with this to add to the long-toothed peril of it, that, although always in sight, he was never more unseen than at the moment of his spring.
The change from faith and friendship and a genial warmth that had taken place in Mr.Bayard and left him their rock-bound opposites, had its origin in the treachery of a friend.

Mr.Bayard those years before was, in his stock sailing, beaten upon by a sudden squall of treason and lying ingratitude; his nature was capsized, and those softer and more generous graces were spilled out.

They went to the bottom, as things golden will; and they never came up.

Mr.Bayard was betrayed by one who had taken his hand in friendship not the hour before--one who was his partner in business and had risen through his favor.