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Updated: June 16, 2025
And when he had gone, Celia sat a long time by the window, not seeing much of the hot street into which she looked, until there were tears in her eyes. There was one man in New York who thoroughly enjoyed the summer. Murad Ault was, as we say of a man who is free to indulge his natural powers, in his element.
And to a man of his age, New York in midsummer in a panicky season is not a recreation. The moment Mrs. Mavick got her husband alone she showed a lively solicitude about his health. "I suppose it has been dreadfully hot in the city?" "Hot enough. Everything makes it hot." "Has anything gone wrong? Has that odious Ault turned up again?" "Turned up is the word.
He was not a man of many words, but he was always decided and apparently open, and, as whatever he touched seemed to thrive, his associates got the habit of saying, "What Ault says goes." Murad Ault had married, so it was said, the daughter of a boarding-house keeper on the dock. Those who had seen Mrs.
Several times I have wondered, but I fancied it only a coincidence of names. It seemed absurd. Why, I used to know Murad Ault when we were boys. And to think that he should be the great Murad Ault." "He hasn't been that for more than a couple of years," Mavick answered, with a smile at the other's astonishment, and then, with more interest, "What do you know about him?"
But this once managed, and a cart procured in the neighbourhood, they were able to spend the night in a pot-house at Ault Bea.
The only prominently ugly features in the charming picture were the few villas on the neighboring heights, built by retired Paris grocers and haberdashers; liliputian, pretentious, with blatant, highly-colored facades, ludicrous imitations of baronial fortresses, Venetian palaces, or Renaissance chateaux. The inhabitants of Ault were a peaceable, sober-minded people.
Lord, what a habitation it was! But such a view rivers, mountains, meadows, and orchards in the distance! That is where I lived with my mother. What a life! I hated everything, everybody but her." Mr. Ault paused, his strong, dark face working with passion, as the memory of his outlawed boyhood revived.
The advent, then, of Murad Ault in New York was not a novelty, but a continuation of like phenomena in the Street, ever since the day when ingenious men discovered that the ability to guess correctly which of two sparrows, sold for a farthing, lighting on the spire of Trinity Church, will fly first, is an element in a successful and distinguished career.
He had the reputation of being a reckless broker, and not a safe man to follow. The panic next day, both in London and New York, was long remembered. In the unreasoning scare the best stocks were sacrificed. Small country "investors" lost their stakes. Some operators were ruined. Many men were poorer at the end of the scrimmage, and a few were richer. Murad Ault was one of the latter.
We cannot exactly understand why a cyclone should pick up a peaceful village in Nebraska and deposit it in Kansas, where there, is already enough of that sort, but we cannot conceive of Wall Street continuing to be Wall Street unless it were now and then visited by a powerful adjuster like Mr. Ault.
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