C harles Mitchell strode up the steps of 55 Wall Street, determined to project his usual sense of confidence and certitude. It had been a crushing afternoon. As he returned to his office, he knew that the eyes of New York were on him—everyone from the traders in the street to his own secretary was assessing his gait and searching his face, trying to read meaning in every twitch, every line, every wrinkle. In his gray three‑piece suit, shoulders back, Mitchell kept up his smile as he passed