Obeying, no doubt, some inscrutable law of commerce, the grand enterprise,--"perhaps the grandest when you consider the amount of territory manipulated, which has ever opened itself before the eyes of a great commercial people," as Mr. Fisker with his peculiar eloquence observed through his nose, about this time to a meeting of shareholders at San Francisco,--had swung itself across from California to London, turning itself to the centre of the commercial world as the needle turns to the pole, till Mr. Fisker almost regretted the deed which himself had done. And Melmotte was not only the head, but the body also, and the feet of it all. The shares seemed to be all in Melmotte's pocket, so that he could distribute them as he would; and it seemed also that when distributed and sold, and when bought again and sold again, they came back to Melmotte's pocket. Men were contented to buy their shares and to pay their money, simply on Melmotte's word. Sir Felix had realised a large portion of his winnings at cards,--with commendable prudence for one so young and extravagant,--and had brought his savings to the great man. The great man had swept the earnings of the Beargarden into his till, and had told Sir Felix that the shares were his. Sir Felix had been not only contented, but supremely happy. He could now do as Paul Montague was doing,--and Lord Alfred Grendall. He could realize a perennial income, buying and selling. It was only after the reflection of a day or two that he found that he had as yet got nothing to sell. 
The enterprise had swung itself across from California to London, as a compass needle turns to the pole, till Mr. Fisker almost regretted the deed which he had done. And Melmotte was not only the head, but the body of it all. The shares seemed to be all in Melmotte's pocket, so that he could distribute them as he would; and it seemed when sold, they came back to Melmotte's pocket. Men were content to buy shares simply on Melmotte's word.
Sir Felix had brought his winnings at cards to the great man, who had swept the money into his till, and had told Sir Felix that the shares were his. Sir Felix was supremely happy. He could now do as Paul Montague was doing: get a perennial income, buying and selling. It was only after a day or two's reflection that he found that he had nothing yet to sell.
