But at noon, he wandered out into the bright June
sunshine, walking about and greeting old friends. At the Russ House
Cafe, where he lunched, William Ralston greeted him cordially.
"How is the war going?" Windham asked. "I've been laid up for a
month--rather out of the running."
"Well, they're devilish hard fighters, those Confederates. And Lee's a
master strategist.... But we've the money, Windham. That's what counts.
The Union owes a lot to California and Nevada."
"Nevada!" with the word came sudden recollection. "That reminds me,
Ralston.... How are stocks?"
But the banker, with a muttered excuse hastened off.
Benito finished his coffee, smoked a cigarette and made his way again
into the street.
Presently he went into the stock exchange, almost deserted now, after
the close of the morning session. O'Brien was there, smoking a long
black cigar and chatting in his boisterous, confidential way with Asbury
Harpending. The latter was babbling in real estate.
"Hullo, Windham!" he greeted. "You don't look very fit.... Been ill?"
"Yes," Benito told him. "Laid up since the last of May. What's new?"
"Nothing much--since the bottom dropped out of Comstock.
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