Mr.Harley and Senator Hanway, for their parts, gave themselves wholly to that winning of a White House; their ardor, if it were possible, had been promoted by the reverse in Northern Consolidated, and Senator Hanway's anxiety to be President appeared to brighten as his money-fortunes dimmed.

And, as though Fate meditated amends for those disasters of stocks, from every angle of politics there came flattering reports.

Senator Hanway was sure, so said the reports, to write himself "President Hanway"; politicians were shouldering one another to secure seats in the bandwagon of that statesman's prospects.
True, for all their preoccupation, Mr.Harley and Senator Hanway would now and then glance up from those details of practical politics over which they were employed, to wonder why the hidden one of that "corner" did not close the transaction by peeling off their fiscal pelts.

So far there had come neither word nor sign of him.
The old gray buccaneer exhorted them in no wise to be uneasy.
"You needn't fret," said the old gray buccaneer; "he's got us as fast as two and two make four.

For us to be wondering why he doesn't come around is as though a coop full of turkeys went wondering why the poulterer didn't come around.