THE FINANCIER

by Theodore Dreiser

Chapter I

The Philadelphia into which Frank Algernon Cowperwood was born wasa city of two hundred and fifty thousand and more. It was set withhandsome parks, notable buildings, and crowded with historic memories. Many of the things that we and he knew later were not then inexistence--the telegraph, telephone, express company, ocean steamer, city delivery of mails. There were no postage-stamps or registeredletters. The street car had not arrived. In its place were hosts ofomnibuses, and for longer travel the slowly developing railroad systemstill largely connected by canals. 

Cowperwood's father was a bank clerk at the time of Frank's birth, but ten years later, when the boy was already beginning to turn a verysensible, vigorous eye on the world, Mr. Henry Worthington Cowperwood, because of the death of the bank's president and the consequent movingahead of the other officers, fell heir to the place vacated by thepromoted teller, at the, to him, munificent salary of thirty-fivehundred dollars a year. At once he decided, as he told his wifejoyously, to remove his family from 21 Buttonwood Street to 124 NewMarket Street, a much better neighborhood, where there was a nice brickhouse of three stories in height as opposed to their present two-storieddomicile. There was the probability that some day they would come intosomething even better, but for the present this was sufficient. He wasexceedingly grateful. 

Henry Worthington Cowperwood was a man who believed only what he saw andwas content to be what he was--a banker, or a prospective one. He was atthis time a significant figure--tall, lean, inquisitorial, clerkly--withnice, smooth, closely-cropped side whiskers coming to almost the lowerlobes of his ears. His upper lip was smooth and curiously long, andhe had a long, straight nose and a chin that tended to be pointed. Hiseyebrows were bushy, emphasizing vague, grayish-green eyes, and his hairwas short and smooth and nicely parted. He wore a frock-coat always--itwas quite the thing in financial circles in those days--and a high hat. And he kept his hands and nails immaculately clean. His manner mighthave been called severe, though really it was more cultivated thanaustere. 

Being ambitious to get ahead socially and financially, he was verycareful of whom or with whom he talked. He was as much afraid ofexpressing a rabid or unpopular political or social opinion as he wasof being seen with an evil character, though he had really no opinionof great political significance to express. He was neither anti- norpro-slavery, though the air was stormy with abolition sentiment and itsopposition. He believed sincerely that vast fortunes were to be madeout of railroads if one only had the capital and that curious thing, amagnetic personality--the ability to win the confidence of others. Hewas sure that Andrew Jackson was all wrong in his opposition to NicholasBiddle and the United States Bank, one of the great issues of the day;and he was worried, as he might well be, by the perfect storm of wildcatmoney which was floating about and which was constantly coming to hisbank--discounted, of course, and handed out again to anxious borrowersat a profit. His bank was the Third National of Philadelphia, located inthat center of all Philadelphia and indeed, at that time, of practicallyall national finance--Third Street--and its owners conducted a brokeragebusiness as a side line. There was a perfect plague of State banks, great and small, in those days, issuing notes practically withoutregulation upon insecure and unknown assets and failing and suspendingwith astonishing rapidity; and a knowledge of all these was an importantrequirement of Mr. Cowperwood's position. As a result, he had become thesoul of caution. Unfortunately, for him, he lacked in a greatmeasure the two things that are necessary for distinction in anyfield--magnetism and vision. He was not destined to be a greatfinancier, though he was marked out to be a moderately successful one. 

Mrs. Cowperwood was of a religious temperament--a small woman, withlight-brown hair and clear, brown eyes, who had been very attractive inher day, but had become rather prim and matter-of-fact and inclinedto take very seriously the maternal care of her three sons and onedaughter. The former, captained by Frank, the eldest, were a source ofconsiderable annoyance to her, for they were forever making expeditionsto different parts of the city, getting in with bad boys, probably, andseeing and hearing things they should neither see nor hear. 

Frank Cowperwood, even at ten, was a natural-born leader. At the dayschool he attended, and later at the Central High School, he was lookedupon as one whose common sense could unquestionably be trusted in allcases. He was a sturdy youth, courageous and defiant. From the verystart of his life, he wanted to know about economics and politics. Hecared nothing for books. He was a clean, stalky, shapely boy, witha bright, clean-cut, incisive face; large, clear, gray eyes; awide forehead; short, bristly, dark-brown hair. He had an incisive, quick-motioned, self-sufficient manner, and was forever asking questionswith a keen desire for an intelligent reply. He never had an ache orpain, ate his food with gusto, and ruled his brothers with a rod ofiron. "Come on, Joe!" "Hurry, Ed!" These commands were issued in norough but always a sure way, and Joe and Ed came. They looked up toFrank from the first as a master, and what he had to say was listened toeagerly. 

He was forever pondering, pondering--one fact astonishing him quite asmuch as another--for he could not figure out how this thing he had comeinto--this life--was organized. How did all these people get into theworld? What were they doing here? Who started things, anyhow? His mothertold him the story of Adam and Eve, but he didn't believe it. There wasa fish-market not so very far from his home, and there, on his way tosee his father at the bank, or conducting his brothers on after-schoolexpeditions, he liked to look at a certain tank in front of one storewhere were kept odd specimens of sea-life brought in by the Delaware Bayfishermen. He saw once there a sea-horse--just a queer little sea-animalthat looked somewhat like a horse--and another time he saw an electriceel which Benjamin Franklin's discovery had explained. One day he sawa squid and a lobster put in the tank, and in connection with them waswitness to a tragedy which stayed with him all his life and clearedthings up considerably intellectually. The lobster, it appeared fromthe talk of the idle bystanders, was offered no food, as the squid wasconsidered his rightful prey. He lay at the bottom of the clear glasstank on the yellow sand, apparently seeing nothing--you could nottell in which way his beady, black buttons of eyes were looking--butapparently they were never off the body of the squid. The latter, paleand waxy in texture, looking very much like pork fat or jade, movedabout in torpedo fashion; but his movements were apparently never out ofthe eyes of his enemy, for by degrees small portions of his body beganto disappear, snapped off by the relentless claws of his pursuer. Thelobster would leap like a catapult to where the squid was apparentlyidly dreaming, and the squid, very alert, would dart away, shooting outat the same time a cloud of ink, behind which it would disappear. It wasnot always completely successful, however. Small portions of its bodyor its tail were frequently left in the claws of the monster below. Fascinated by the drama, young Cowperwood came daily to watch. 

One morning he stood in front of the tank, his nose almost pressed tothe glass. Only a portion of the squid remained, and his ink-bag wasemptier than ever. In the corner of the tank sat the lobster, poisedapparently for action. 

The boy stayed as long as he could, the bitter struggle fascinating him. Now, maybe, or in an hour or a day, the squid might die, slain bythe lobster, and the lobster would eat him. He looked again at thegreenish-copperish engine of destruction in the corner and wondered whenthis would be. To-night, maybe. He would come back to-night. 

He returned that night, and lo! the expected had happened. There was alittle crowd around the tank. The lobster was in the corner. Before himwas the squid cut in two and partially devoured. 

"He got him at last, " observed one bystander. "I was standing right herean hour ago, and up he leaped and grabbed him. The squid was too tired. He wasn't quick enough. He did back up, but that lobster he calculatedon his doing that. He's been figuring on his movements for a long timenow. He got him to-day. "

Frank only stared. Too bad he had missed this. The least touch of sorrowfor the squid came to him as he stared at it slain. Then he gazed at thevictor. 

"That's the way it has to be, I guess, " he commented to himself. "Thatsquid wasn't quick enough. " He figured it out. 

"The squid couldn't kill the lobster--he had no weapon. The lobstercould kill the squid--he was heavily armed. There was nothing for thesquid to feed on; the lobster had the squid as prey. What was the resultto be? What else could it be? He didn't have a chance, " he concludedfinally, as he trotted on homeward. 

The incident made a great impression on him. It answered in a rough waythat riddle which had been annoying him so much in the past: "How islife organized?" Things lived on each other--that was it. Lobsters livedon squids and other things. What lived on lobsters? Men, of course!Sure, that was it! And what lived on men? he asked himself. Was it othermen? Wild animals lived on men. And there were Indians and cannibals. And some men were killed by storms and accidents. He wasn't so sureabout men living on men; but men did kill each other. How about wars andstreet fights and mobs? He had seen a mob once. It attacked the PublicLedger building as he was coming home from school. His father hadexplained why. It was about the slaves. That was it! Sure, men lived onmen. Look at the slaves. They were men. That's what all this excitementwas about these days. Men killing other men--negroes. 

He went on home quite pleased with himself at his solution. 

"Mother!" he exclaimed, as he entered the house, "he finally got him!"

"Got who? What got what?" she inquired in amazement. "Go wash yourhands. "

"Why, that lobster got that squid I was telling you and pa about theother day. "

"Well, that's too bad. What makes you take any interest in such things?Run, wash your hands. "

"Well, you don't often see anything like that. I never did. " He wentout in the back yard, where there was a hydrant and a post with a littletable on it, and on that a shining tin-pan and a bucket of water. Herehe washed his face and hands. 

"Say, papa, " he said to his father, later, "you know that squid?"

"Yes. "

"Well, he's dead. The lobster got him. "

His father continued reading. "Well, that's too bad, " he said, indifferently. 

But for days and weeks Frank thought of this and of the life he wastossed into, for he was already pondering on what he should be in thisworld, and how he should get along. From seeing his father count money, he was sure that he would like banking; and Third Street, where hisfather's office was, seemed to him the cleanest, most fascinating streetin the world. 

Chapter II

The growth of young Frank Algernon Cowperwood was through years of whatmight be called a comfortable and happy family existence. ButtonwoodStreet, where he spent the first ten years of his life, was a lovelyplace for a boy to live. It contained mostly small two and three-storyred brick houses, with small white marble steps leading up to the frontdoor, and thin, white marble trimmings outlining the front door andwindows. There were trees in the street--plenty of them. The roadpavement was of big, round cobblestones, made bright and clean by therains; and the sidewalks were of red brick, and always damp and cool. Inthe rear was a yard, with trees and grass and sometimes flowers, forthe lots were almost always one hundred feet deep, and the house-fronts, crowding close to the pavement in front, left a comfortable space in therear. 

The Cowperwoods, father and mother, were not so lean and narrow thatthey could not enter into the natural tendency to be happy and joyouswith their children; and so this family, which increased at the rate ofa child every two or three years after Frank's birth until there werefour children, was quite an interesting affair when he was ten and theywere ready to move into the New Market Street home. Henry WorthingtonCowperwood's connections were increased as his position grew moreresponsible, and gradually he was becoming quite a personage. He alreadyknew a number of the more prosperous merchants who dealt with his bank, and because as a clerk his duties necessitated his calling at otherbanking-houses, he had come to be familiar with and favorably known inthe Bank of the United States, the Drexels, the Edwards, and others. Thebrokers knew him as representing a very sound organization, and while hewas not considered brilliant mentally, he was known as a most reliableand trustworthy individual. 

In this progress of his father young Cowperwood definitely shared. Hewas quite often allowed to come to the bank on Saturdays, when he wouldwatch with great interest the deft exchange of bills at the brokerageend of the business. He wanted to know where all the types of money camefrom, why discounts were demanded and received, what the men did withall the money they received. His father, pleased at his interest, wasglad to explain so that even at this early age--from ten tofifteen--the boy gained a wide knowledge of the condition of the countryfinancially--what a State bank was and what a national one; what brokersdid; what stocks were, and why they fluctuated in value. He began tosee clearly what was meant by money as a medium of exchange, and how allvalues were calculated according to one primary value, that of gold. He was a financier by instinct, and all the knowledge that pertained tothat great art was as natural to him as the emotions and subtletiesof life are to a poet. This medium of exchange, gold, interested himintensely. When his father explained to him how it was mined, he dreamedthat he owned a gold mine and waked to wish that he did. He was likewisecurious about stocks and bonds and he learned that some stocks and bondswere not worth the paper they were written on, and that others wereworth much more than their face value indicated. 

"There, my son, " said his father to him one day, "you won't often seea bundle of those around this neighborhood. " He referred to a seriesof shares in the British East India Company, deposited as collateralat two-thirds of their face value for a loan of one hundred thousanddollars. A Philadelphia magnate had hypothecated them for the use of theready cash. Young Cowperwood looked at them curiously. "They don't looklike much, do they?" he commented. 

"They are worth just four times their face value, " said his father, archly. 

Frank reexamined them. "The British East India Company, " he read. "Tenpounds--that's pretty near fifty dollars. "

"Forty-eight, thirty-five, " commented his father, dryly. "Well, if wehad a bundle of those we wouldn't need to work very hard. You'll noticethere are scarcely any pin-marks on them. They aren't sent around verymuch. I don't suppose these have ever been used as collateral before. "

Young Cowperwood gave them back after a time, but not without a keensense of the vast ramifications of finance. What was the East IndiaCompany? What did it do? His father told him. 

At home also he listened to considerable talk of financial investmentand adventure. He heard, for one thing, of a curious character by thename of Steemberger, a great beef speculator from Virginia, who wasattracted to Philadelphia in those days by the hope of large and easycredits. Steemberger, so his father said, was close to Nicholas Biddle, Lardner, and others of the United States Bank, or at least friendly withthem, and seemed to be able to obtain from that organization nearly allthat he asked for. His operations in the purchase of cattle in Virginia, Ohio, and other States were vast, amounting, in fact, to an entiremonopoly of the business of supplying beef to Eastern cities. He was abig man, enormous, with a face, his father said, something like that ofa pig; and he wore a high beaver hat and a long frock-coat which hungloosely about his big chest and stomach. He had managed to force theprice of beef up to thirty cents a pound, causing all the retailers andconsumers to rebel, and this was what made him so conspicuous. He usedto come to the brokerage end of the elder Cowperwood's bank, with asmuch as one hundred thousand or two hundred thousand dollars, in twelvemonths--post-notes of the United States Bank in denominations of onethousand, five thousand, and ten thousand dollars. These he wouldcash at from ten to twelve per cent. Under their face value, havingpreviously given the United States Bank his own note at four monthsfor the entire amount. He would take his pay from the Third Nationalbrokerage counter in packages of Virginia, Ohio, and westernPennsylvania bank-notes at par, because he made his disbursementsprincipally in those States. The Third National would in the firstplace realize a profit of from four to five per cent. On the originaltransaction; and as it took the Western bank-notes at a discount, italso made a profit on those. 

There was another man his father talked about--one Francis J. Grund, afamous newspaper correspondent and lobbyist at Washington, who possessedthe faculty of unearthing secrets of every kind, especially thoserelating to financial legislation. The secrets of the President andthe Cabinet, as well as of the Senate and the House of Representatives, seemed to be open to him. Grund had been about, years before, purchasingthrough one or two brokers large amounts of the various kinds of Texasdebt certificates and bonds. The Republic of Texas, in its struggle forindependence from Mexico, had issued bonds and certificates in greatvariety, amounting in value to ten or fifteen million dollars. Later, in connection with the scheme to make Texas a State of the Union, a billwas passed providing a contribution on the part of the United States offive million dollars, to be applied to the extinguishment of this olddebt. Grund knew of this, and also of the fact that some of this debt, owing to the peculiar conditions of issue, was to be paid in full, whileother portions were to be scaled down, and there was to be a falseor pre-arranged failure to pass the bill at one session in order tofrighten off the outsiders who might have heard and begun to buy the oldcertificates for profit. He acquainted the Third National Bank with thisfact, and of course the information came to Cowperwood as teller. Hetold his wife about it, and so his son, in this roundabout way, heardit, and his clear, big eyes glistened. He wondered why his father didnot take advantage of the situation and buy some Texas certificates forhimself. Grund, so his father said, and possibly three or four others, had made over a hundred thousand dollars apiece. It wasn't exactlylegitimate, he seemed to think, and yet it was, too. Why shouldn't suchinside information be rewarded? Somehow, Frank realized that his fatherwas too honest, too cautious, but when he grew up, he told himself, hewas going to be a broker, or a financier, or a banker, and do some ofthese things. 

Just at this time there came to the Cowperwoods an uncle who had notpreviously appeared in the life of the family. He was a brother of Mrs. Cowperwood's--Seneca Davis by name--solid, unctuous, five feet ten inheight, with a big, round body, a round, smooth head rather bald, aclear, ruddy complexion, blue eyes, and what little hair he had ofa sandy hue. He was exceedingly well dressed according to standardsprevailing in those days, indulging in flowered waistcoats, long, light-colored frock-coats, and the invariable (for a fairly prosperousman) high hat. Frank was fascinated by him at once. He had been aplanter in Cuba and still owned a big ranch there and could tell himtales of Cuban life--rebellions, ambuscades, hand-to-hand fighting withmachetes on his own plantation, and things of that sort. He broughtwith him a collection of Indian curies, to say nothing of an independentfortune and several slaves--one, named Manuel, a tall, raw-boned black, was his constant attendant, a bodyservant, as it were. He shipped rawsugar from his plantation in boat-loads to the Southwark wharves inPhiladelphia. Frank liked him because he took life in a hearty, jovialway, rather rough and offhand for this somewhat quiet and reservedhousehold. 

"Why, Nancy Arabella, " he said to Mrs Cowperwood on arriving one Sundayafternoon, and throwing the household into joyous astonishment at hisunexpected and unheralded appearance, "you haven't grown an inch! Ithought when you married old brother Hy here that you were going tofatten up like your brother. But look at you! I swear to Heaven youdon't weigh five pounds. " And he jounced her up and down by the waist, much to the perturbation of the children, who had never before seentheir mother so familiarly handled. 

Henry Cowperwood was exceedingly interested in and pleased at thearrival of this rather prosperous relative; for twelve years before, when he was married, Seneca Davis had not taken much notice of him. 

"Look at these little putty-faced Philadelphians, " he continued, "Theyought to come down to my ranch in Cuba and get tanned up. That wouldtake away this waxy look. " And he pinched the cheek of Anna Adelaide, now five years old. "I tell you, Henry, you have a rather nice placehere. " And he looked at the main room of the rather conventionalthree-story house with a critical eye. 

Measuring twenty by twenty-four and finished in imitation cherry, with aset of new Sheraton parlor furniture it presented a quaintly harmoniousaspect. Since Henry had become teller the family had acquired a piano--adecided luxury in those days--brought from Europe; and it was intendedthat Anna Adelaide, when she was old enough, should learn to play. Therewere a few uncommon ornaments in the room--a gas chandelier for onething, a glass bowl with goldfish in it, some rare and highly polishedshells, and a marble Cupid bearing a basket of flowers. It was summertime, the windows were open, and the trees outside, with their widelyextended green branches, were pleasantly visible shading the bricksidewalk. Uncle Seneca strolled out into the back yard. 

"Well, this is pleasant enough, " he observed, noting a large elm andseeing that the yard was partially paved with brick and enclosed withinbrick walls, up the sides of which vines were climbing. "Where's yourhammock? Don't you string a hammock here in summer? Down on my verandaat San Pedro I have six or seven. "

"We hadn't thought of putting one up because of the neighbors, but itwould be nice, " agreed Mrs. Cowperwood. "Henry will have to get one. "

"I have two or three in my trunks over at the hotel. My niggers make 'emdown there. I'll send Manuel over with them in the morning. "

He plucked at the vines, tweaked Edward's ear, told Joseph, the secondboy, he would bring him an Indian tomahawk, and went back into thehouse. 

"This is the lad that interests me, " he said, after a time, laying ahand on the shoulder of Frank. "What did you name him in full, Henry?"

"Frank Algernon. "

"Well, you might have named him after me. There's something to this boy. How would you like to come down to Cuba and be a planter, my boy?"

"I'm not so sure that I'd like to, " replied the eldest. 

"Well, that's straight-spoken. What have you against it?"

"Nothing, except that I don't know anything about it. "

"What do you know?"

The boy smiled wisely. "Not very much, I guess. "

"Well, what are you interested in?"

"Money!"

"Aha! What's bred in the bone, eh? Get something of that from yourfather, eh? Well, that's a good trait. And spoken like a man, too! We'llhear more about that later. Nancy, you're breeding a financier here, Ithink. He talks like one. "

He looked at Frank carefully now. There was real force in that sturdyyoung body--no doubt of it. Those large, clear gray eyes were full ofintelligence. They indicated much and revealed nothing. 

"A smart boy!" he said to Henry, his brother-in-law. "I like his get-up. You have a bright family. "

Henry Cowperwood smiled dryly. This man, if he liked Frank, might domuch for the boy. He might eventually leave him some of his fortune. Hewas wealthy and single. 

Uncle Seneca became a frequent visitor to the house--he and his negrobody-guard, Manuel, who spoke both English and Spanish, much to theastonishment of the children; and he took an increasing interest inFrank. 

"When that boy gets old enough to find out what he wants to do, I thinkI'll help him to do it, " he observed to his sister one day; and she toldhim she was very grateful. He talked to Frank about his studies, and found that he cared little for books or most of the study he wascompelled to pursue. Grammar was an abomination. Literature silly. Latinwas of no use. History--well, it was fairly interesting. 

"I like bookkeeping and arithmetic, " he observed. "I want to get out andget to work, though. That's what I want to do. "

"You're pretty young, my son, " observed his uncle. "You're only how oldnow? Fourteen?"

"Thirteen. "

"Well, you can't leave school much before sixteen. You'll do betterif you stay until seventeen or eighteen. It can't do you any harm. Youwon't be a boy again. "

"I don't want to be a boy. I want to get to work. "

"Don't go too fast, son. You'll be a man soon enough. You want to be abanker, do you?"

"Yes, sir!"

"Well, when the time comes, if everything is all right and you'vebehaved yourself and you still want to, I'll help you get a start inbusiness. If I were you and were going to be a banker, I'd first spenda year or so in some good grain and commission house. There's goodtraining to be had there. You'll learn a lot that you ought to know. And, meantime, keep your health and learn all you can. Wherever I am, you let me know, and I'll write and find out how you've been conductingyourself. "

He gave the boy a ten-dollar gold piece with which to start abank-account. And, not strange to say, he liked the whole Cowperwoodhousehold much better for this dynamic, self-sufficient, sterling youthwho was an integral part of it. 

Chapter III

It was in his thirteenth year that young Cowperwood entered into hisfirst business venture. Walking along Front Street one day, a streetof importing and wholesale establishments, he saw an auctioneer's flaghanging out before a wholesale grocery and from the interior came theauctioneer's voice: "What am I bid for this exceptional lot of Javacoffee, twenty-two bags all told, which is now selling in the market forseven dollars and thirty-two cents a bag wholesale? What am I bid? Whatam I bid? The whole lot must go as one. What am I bid?"

"Eighteen dollars, " suggested a trader standing near the door, more tostart the bidding than anything else. Frank paused. 

"Twenty-two!" called another. 

"Thirty!" a third. "Thirty-five!" a fourth, and so up to seventy-five, less than half of what it was worth. 

"I'm bid seventy-five! I'm bid seventy-five!" called the auctioneer, loudly. "Any other offers? Going once at seventy-five; am I offeredeighty? Going twice at seventy-five, and"--he paused, one hand raiseddramatically. Then he brought it down with a slap in the palm of theother--"sold to Mr. Silas Gregory for seventy-five. Make a note of that, Jerry, " he called to his red-haired, freckle-faced clerk beside him. Then he turned to another lot of grocery staples--this time starch, eleven barrels of it. 

Young Cowperwood was making a rapid calculation. If, as the auctioneersaid, coffee was worth seven dollars and thirty-two cents a bag in theopen market, and this buyer was getting this coffee for seventy-fivedollars, he was making then and there eighty-six dollars and four cents, to say nothing of what his profit would be if he sold it at retail. Ashe recalled, his mother was paying twenty-eight cents a pound. He drewnearer, his books tucked under his arm, and watched these operationsclosely. The starch, as he soon heard, was valued at ten dollars abarrel, and it only brought six. Some kegs of vinegar were knocked downat one-third their value, and so on. He began to wish he could bid; buthe had no money, just a little pocket change. The auctioneer noticedhim standing almost directly under his nose, and was impressed with thestolidity--solidity--of the boy's expression. 

"I am going to offer you now a fine lot of Castile soap--seven cases, no less--which, as you know, if you know anything about soap, is nowselling at fourteen cents a bar. This soap is worth anywhere at thismoment eleven dollars and seventy-five cents a case. What am I bid?What am I bid? What am I bid?" He was talking fast in the usual styleof auctioneers, with much unnecessary emphasis; but Cowperwood was notunduly impressed. He was already rapidly calculating for himself. Sevencases at eleven dollars and seventy-five cents would be worth justeighty-two dollars and twenty-five cents; and if it went at half--if itwent at half--

"Twelve dollars, " commented one bidder. 

"Fifteen, " bid another. 

"Twenty, " called a third. 

"Twenty-five, " a fourth. 

Then it came to dollar raises, for Castile soap was not such a vitalcommodity. "Twenty-six. " "Twenty-seven. " "Twenty-eight. " "Twenty-nine. "There was a pause. "Thirty, " observed young Cowperwood, decisively. 

The auctioneer, a short lean faced, spare man with bushy hair and anincisive eye, looked at him curiously and almost incredulously butwithout pausing. He had, somehow, in spite of himself, been impressed bythe boy's peculiar eye; and now he felt, without knowing why, that theoffer was probably legitimate enough, and that the boy had the money. Hemight be the son of a grocer. 

"I'm bid thirty! I'm bid thirty! I'm bid thirty for this fine lot ofCastile soap. It's a fine lot. It's worth fourteen cents a bar. Willany one bid thirty-one? Will any one bid thirty-one? Will any one bidthirty-one?"

"Thirty-one, " said a voice. 

"Thirty-two, " replied Cowperwood. The same process was repeated. 

"I'm bid thirty-two! I'm bid thirty-two! I'm bid thirty-two! Willanybody bid thirty-three? It's fine soap. Seven cases of fine Castilesoap. Will anybody bid thirty-three?"

Young Cowperwood's mind was working. He had no money with him; but hisfather was teller of the Third National Bank, and he could quote him asreference. He could sell all of his soap to the family grocer, surely;or, if not, to other grocers. Other people were anxious to get this soapat this price. Why not he?

The auctioneer paused. 

"Thirty-two once! Am I bid thirty-three? Thirty-two twice! Am I bidthirty-three? Thirty-two three times! Seven fine cases of soap. Am I bidanything more? Once, twice! Three times! Am I bid anything more?"--hishand was up again--"and sold to Mr. --?" He leaned over and lookedcuriously into the face of his young bidder. 

"Frank Cowperwood, son of the teller of the Third National Bank, "replied the boy, decisively. 

"Oh, yes, " said the man, fixed by his glance. 

"Will you wait while I run up to the bank and get the money?"

"Yes. Don't be gone long. If you're not here in an hour I'll sell itagain. "

Young Cowperwood made no reply. He hurried out and ran fast; first, tohis mother's grocer, whose store was within a block of his home. 

Thirty feet from the door he slowed up, put on a nonchalant air, andstrolling in, looked about for Castile soap. There it was, the samekind, displayed in a box and looking just as his soap looked. 

"How much is this a bar, Mr. Dalrymple?" he inquired. 

"Sixteen cents, " replied that worthy. 

"If I could sell you seven boxes for sixty-two dollars just like this, would you take them?"

"The same soap?"

"Yes, sir. "

Mr. Dalrymple calculated a moment. 

"Yes, I think I would, " he replied, cautiously. 

"Would you pay me to-day?"

"I'd give you my note for it. Where is the soap?"

He was perplexed and somewhat astonished by this unexpected propositionon the part of his neighbor's son. He knew Mr. Cowperwood well--andFrank also. 

"Will you take it if I bring it to you to-day?"

"Yes, I will, " he replied. "Are you going into the soap business?"

"No. But I know where I can get some of that soap cheap. "

He hurried out again and ran to his father's bank. It was after bankinghours; but he knew how to get in, and he knew that his father would beglad to see him make thirty dollars. He only wanted to borrow the moneyfor a day. 

"What's the trouble, Frank?" asked his father, looking up from his deskwhen he appeared, breathless and red faced. 

"I want you to loan me thirty-two dollars! Will you?"

"Why, yes, I might. What do you want to do with it?"

"I want to buy some soap--seven boxes of Castile soap. I know where Ican get it and sell it. Mr. Dalrymple will take it. He's already offeredme sixty-two for it. I can get it for thirty-two. Will you let me havethe money? I've got to run back and pay the auctioneer. "

His father smiled. This was the most business-like attitude he had seenhis son manifest. He was so keen, so alert for a boy of thirteen. 

"Why, Frank, " he said, going over to a drawer where some bills were, "are you going to become a financier already? You're sure you're notgoing to lose on this? You know what you're doing, do you?"

"You let me have the money, father, will you?" he pleaded. "I'll showyou in a little bit. Just let me have it. You can trust me. "

He was like a young hound on the scent of game. His father could notresist his appeal. 

"Why, certainly, Frank, " he replied. "I'll trust you. " And he countedout six five-dollar certificates of the Third National's own issue andtwo ones. "There you are. "

Frank ran out of the building with a briefly spoken thanks and returnedto the auction room as fast as his legs would carry him. When he camein, sugar was being auctioned. He made his way to the auctioneer'sclerk. 

"I want to pay for that soap, " he suggested. 

"Now?"

"Yes. Will you give me a receipt?"

"Yep. "

"Do you deliver this?"

"No. No delivery. You have to take it away in twenty-four hours. "

That difficulty did not trouble him. 

"All right, " he said, and pocketed his paper testimony of purchase. 

The auctioneer watched him as he went out. In half an hour he was backwith a drayman--an idle levee-wharf hanger-on who was waiting for a job. 

Frank had bargained with him to deliver the soap for sixty cents. Instill another half-hour he was before the door of the astonished Mr. Dalrymple whom he had come out and look at the boxes before attemptingto remove them. His plan was to have them carried on to his own homeif the operation for any reason failed to go through. Though it was hisfirst great venture, he was cool as glass. 

"Yes, " said Mr. Dalrymple, scratching his gray head reflectively. "Yes, that's the same soap. I'll take it. I'll be as good as my word. Where'dyou get it, Frank?"

"At Bixom's auction up here, " he replied, frankly and blandly. 

Mr. Dalrymple had the drayman bring in the soap; and after someformality--because the agent in this case was a boy--made out his noteat thirty days and gave it to him. 

Frank thanked him and pocketed the note. He decided to go back to hisfather's bank and discount it, as he had seen others doing, therebypaying his father back and getting his own profit in ready money. Itcouldn't be done ordinarily on any day after business hours; but hisfather would make an exception in his case. 

He hurried back, whistling; and his father glanced up smiling when hecame in. 

"Well, Frank, how'd you make out?" he asked. 

"Here's a note at thirty days, " he said, producing the paper Dalrymplehad given him. "Do you want to discount that for me? You can take yourthirty-two out of that. "

His father examined it closely. "Sixty-two dollars!" he observed. "Mr. Dalrymple! That's good paper! Yes, I can. It will cost you ten percent. , " he added, jestingly. "Why don't you just hold it, though? I'lllet you have the thirty-two dollars until the end of the month. "

"Oh, no, " said his son, "you discount it and take your money. I may wantmine. "

His father smiled at his business-like air. "All right, " he said. "I'llfix it to-morrow. Tell me just how you did this. " And his son told him. 

At seven o'clock that evening Frank's mother heard about it, and in duetime Uncle Seneca. 

"What'd I tell you, Cowperwood?" he asked. "He has stuff in him, thatyoungster. Look out for him. "

Mrs. Cowperwood looked at her boy curiously at dinner. Was this theson she had nursed at her bosom not so very long before? Surely he wasdeveloping rapidly. 

"Well, Frank, I hope you can do that often, " she said. 

"I hope so, too, ma, " was his rather noncommittal reply. 

Auction sales were not to be discovered every day, however, and his homegrocer was only open to one such transaction in a reasonable period oftime, but from the very first young Cowperwood knew how to make money. He took subscriptions for a boys' paper; handled the agency for the saleof a new kind of ice-skate, and once organized a band of neighborhoodyouths into a union for the purpose of purchasing their summer strawhats at wholesale. It was not his idea that he could get rich by saving. From the first he had the notion that liberal spending was better, andthat somehow he would get along. 

It was in this year, or a little earlier, that he began to take aninterest in girls. He had from the first a keen eye for the beautifulamong them; and, being good-looking and magnetic himself, it was notdifficult for him to attract the sympathetic interest of those in whomhe was interested. A twelve-year old girl, Patience Barlow, who livedfurther up the street, was the first to attract his attention or beattracted by him. Black hair and snapping black eyes were her portion, with pretty pigtails down her back, and dainty feet and ankles to matcha dainty figure. She was a Quakeress, the daughter of Quaker parents, wearing a demure little bonnet. Her disposition, however, was vivacious, and she liked this self-reliant, self-sufficient, straight-spoken boy. One day, after an exchange of glances from time to time, he said, with asmile and the courage that was innate in him: "You live up my way, don'tyou?"

"Yes, " she replied, a little flustered--this last manifested in anervous swinging of her school-bag--"I live at number one-forty-one. "

"I know the house, " he said. "I've seen you go in there. You go to thesame school my sister does, don't you? Aren't you Patience Barlow?" Hehad heard some of the boys speak her name. "Yes. How do you know?"

"Oh, I've heard, " he smiled. "I've seen you. Do you like licorice?"

He fished in his coat and pulled out some fresh sticks that were sold atthe time. 

"Thank you, " she said, sweetly, taking one. 

"It isn't very good. I've been carrying it a long time. I had some taffythe other day. "

"Oh, it's all right, " she replied, chewing the end of hers. 

"Don't you know my sister, Anna Cowperwood?" he recurred, by way ofself-introduction. "She's in a lower grade than you are, but I thoughtmaybe you might have seen her. "

"I think I know who she is. I've seen her coming home from school. "

"I live right over there, " he confided, pointing to his own home as hedrew near to it, as if she didn't know. "I'll see you around here now, Iguess. "

"Do you know Ruth Merriam?" she asked, when he was about ready to turnoff into the cobblestone road to reach his own door. 

"No, why?"

"She's giving a party next Tuesday, " she volunteered, seeminglypointlessly, but only seemingly. 

"Where does she live?"

"There in twenty-eight. "

"I'd like to go, " he affirmed, warmly, as he swung away from her. 

"Maybe she'll ask you, " she called back, growing more courageous as thedistance between them widened. "I'll ask her. "

"Thanks, " he smiled. 

And she began to run gayly onward. 

He looked after her with a smiling face. She was very pretty. He felta keen desire to kiss her, and what might transpire at Ruth Merriam'sparty rose vividly before his eyes. 

This was just one of the early love affairs, or puppy loves, that heldhis mind from time to time in the mixture of after events. PatienceBarlow was kissed by him in secret ways many times before he foundanother girl. She and others of the street ran out to play in the snowof a winter's night, or lingered after dusk before her own door when thedays grew dark early. It was so easy to catch and kiss her then, andto talk to her foolishly at parties. Then came Dora Fitler, when he wassixteen years old and she was fourteen; and Marjorie Stafford, whenhe was seventeen and she was fifteen. Dora Fitter was a brunette, andMarjorie Stafford was as fair as the morning, with bright-red cheeks, bluish-gray eyes, and flaxen hair, and as plump as a partridge. 

It was at seventeen that he decided to leave school. He had notgraduated. He had only finished the third year in high school; but hehad had enough. Ever since his thirteenth year his mind had been onfinance; that is, in the form in which he saw it manifested in ThirdStreet. There had been odd things which he had been able to do to earna little money now and then. His Uncle Seneca had allowed him to actas assistant weigher at the sugar-docks in Southwark, wherethree-hundred-pound bags were weighed into the government bondedwarehouses under the eyes of United States inspectors. In certainemergencies he was called to assist his father, and was paid for it. Heeven made an arrangement with Mr. Dalrymple to assist him on Saturdays;but when his father became cashier of his bank, receiving an incomeof four thousand dollars a year, shortly after Frank had reached hisfifteenth year, it was self-evident that Frank could no longer continuein such lowly employment. 

Just at this time his Uncle Seneca, again back in Philadelphia andstouter and more domineering than ever, said to him one day:

"Now, Frank, if you're ready for it, I think I know where there's a goodopening for you. There won't be any salary in it for the first year, butif you mind your p's and q's, they'll probably give you something as agift at the end of that time. Do you know of Henry Waterman & Companydown in Second Street?"

"I've seen their place. "

"Well, they tell me they might make a place for you as a bookkeeper. They're brokers in a way--grain and commission men. You say you wantto get in that line. When school's out, you go down and see Mr. Waterman--tell him I sent you, and he'll make a place for you, I think. Let me know how you come out. "

Uncle Seneca was married now, having, because of his wealth, attractedthe attention of a poor but ambitious Philadelphia society matron;and because of this the general connections of the Cowperwoods wereconsidered vastly improved. Henry Cowperwood was planning to move withhis family rather far out on North Front Street, which commanded at thattime a beautiful view of the river and was witnessing the constructionof some charming dwellings. His four thousand dollars a year in thesepre-Civil-War times was considerable. He was making what he consideredjudicious and conservative investments and because of his cautious, conservative, clock-like conduct it was thought he might reasonablyexpect some day to be vice-president and possibly president, of hisbank. 

This offer of Uncle Seneca to get him in with Waterman & Company seemedto Frank just the thing to start him off right. So he reported tothat organization at 74 South Second Street one day in June, andwas cordially received by Mr. Henry Waterman, Sr. There was, he soonlearned, a Henry Waterman, Jr. , a young man of twenty-five, and a GeorgeWaterman, a brother, aged fifty, who was the confidential inside man. Henry Waterman, Sr. , a man of fifty-five years of age, was the generalhead of the organization, inside and out--traveling about the nearbyterritory to see customers when that was necessary, coming into finalcounsel in cases where his brother could not adjust matters, suggestingand advising new ventures which his associates and hirelings carriedout. He was, to look at, a phlegmatic type of man--short, stout, wrinkled about the eyes, rather protuberant as to stomach, red-necked, red-faced, the least bit popeyed, but shrewd, kindly, good-natured, andwitty. He had, because of his naturally common-sense ideas and ratherpleasing disposition built up a sound and successful business here. Hewas getting strong in years and would gladly have welcomed the heartycooperation of his son, if the latter had been entirely suited to thebusiness. 

He was not, however. Not as democratic, as quick-witted, or as pleasedwith the work in hand as was his father, the business actually offendedhim. And if the trade had been left to his care, it would have rapidlydisappeared. His father foresaw this, was grieved, and was hopingsome young man would eventually appear who would be interested in thebusiness, handle it in the same spirit in which it had been handled, andwho would not crowd his son out. 

Then came young Cowperwood, spoken of to him by Seneca Davis. He lookedhim over critically. Yes, this boy might do, he thought. There wassomething easy and sufficient about him. He did not appear to be in theleast flustered or disturbed. He knew how to keep books, he said, thoughhe knew nothing of the details of the grain and commission business. Itwas interesting to him. He would like to try it. 

"I like that fellow, " Henry Waterman confided to his brother the momentFrank had gone with instructions to report the following morning. "There's something to him. He's the cleanest, briskest, most alive thingthat's walked in here in many a day. "

"Yes, " said George, a much leaner and slightly taller man, withdark, blurry, reflective eyes and a thin, largely vanished growth ofbrownish-black hair which contrasted strangely with the egg-shapedwhiteness of his bald head. "Yes, he's a nice young man. It's a wonderhis father don't take him in his bank. "

"Well, he may not be able to, " said his brother. "He's only the cashierthere. "

"That's right. "

"Well, we'll give him a trial. I bet anything he makes good. He's alikely-looking youth. "

Henry got up and walked out into the main entrance looking into SecondStreet. The cool cobble pavements, shaded from the eastern sun by thewall of buildings on the east--of which his was a part--the noisy trucksand drays, the busy crowds hurrying to and fro, pleased him. He lookedat the buildings over the way--all three and four stories, and largelyof gray stone and crowded with life--and thanked his stars that hehad originally located in so prosperous a neighborhood. If he had onlybrought more property at the time he bought this!

"I wish that Cowperwood boy would turn out to be the kind of man Iwant, " he observed to himself, meditatively. "He could save me a lot ofrunning these days. "

Curiously, after only three or four minutes of conversation with theboy, he sensed this marked quality of efficiency. Something told him hewould do well. 

Chapter IV

The appearance of Frank Cowperwood at this time was, to say the least, prepossessing and satisfactory. Nature had destined him to be about fivefeet ten inches tall. His head was large, shapely, notably commercial inaspect, thickly covered with crisp, dark-brown hair and fixed on a pairof square shoulders and a stocky body. Already his eyes had the lookthat subtle years of thought bring. They were inscrutable. You couldtell nothing by his eyes. He walked with a light, confident, springystep. Life had given him no severe shocks nor rude awakenings. He hadnot been compelled to suffer illness or pain or deprivation of any kind. He saw people richer than himself, but he hoped to be rich. His familywas respected, his father well placed. He owed no man anything. Once hehad let a small note of his become overdue at the bank, but his fatherraised such a row that he never forgot it. "I would rather crawl onmy hands and knees than let my paper go to protest, " the old gentlemanobserved; and this fixed in his mind what scarcely needed to be sosharply emphasized--the significance of credit. No paper of his everwent to protest or became overdue after that through any negligence ofhis. 

He turned out to be the most efficient clerk that the house of Waterman& Co. Had ever known. They put him on the books at first as assistantbookkeeper, vice Mr. Thomas Trixler, dismissed, and in two weeks Georgesaid: "Why don't we make Cowperwood head bookkeeper? He knows more in aminute than that fellow Sampson will ever know. "

"All right, make the transfer, George, but don't fuss so. He won't be abookkeeper long, though. I want to see if he can't handle some of thesetransfers for me after a bit. "

The books of Messrs. Waterman & Co. , though fairly complicated, werechild's play to Frank. He went through them with an ease and rapiditywhich surprised his erstwhile superior, Mr. Sampson. 

"Why, that fellow, " Sampson told another clerk on the first day he hadseen Cowperwood work, "he's too brisk. He's going to make a bad break. Iknow that kind. Wait a little bit until we get one of those rush creditand transfer days. " But the bad break Mr. Sampson anticipated did notmaterialize. In less than a week Cowperwood knew the financial conditionof the Messrs. Waterman as well as they did--better--to a dollar. Heknew how their accounts were distributed; from what section they drewthe most business; who sent poor produce and good--the varying pricesfor a year told that. To satisfy himself he ran back over certainaccounts in the ledger, verifying his suspicions. Bookkeeping did notinterest him except as a record, a demonstration of a firm's life. Heknew he would not do this long. Something else would happen; but he sawinstantly what the grain and commission business was--every detail ofit. He saw where, for want of greater activity in offering the goodsconsigned--quicker communication with shippers and buyers, a betterworking agreement with surrounding commission men--this house, or, rather, its customers, for it had nothing, endured severe losses. A manwould ship a tow-boat or a car-load of fruit or vegetables against asupposedly rising or stable market; but if ten other men did the samething at the same time, or other commission men were flooded withfruit or vegetables, and there was no way of disposing of them withina reasonable time, the price had to fall. Every day was bringing itsspecial consignments. It instantly occurred to him that he would beof much more use to the house as an outside man disposing of heavyshipments, but he hesitated to say anything so soon. More than likely, things would adjust themselves shortly. 

The Watermans, Henry and George, were greatly pleased with the wayhe handled their accounts. There was a sense of security in his verypresence. He soon began to call Brother George's attention to thecondition of certain accounts, making suggestions as to their possibleliquidation or discontinuance, which pleased that individual greatly. Hesaw a way of lightening his own labors through the intelligence ofthis youth; while at the same time developing a sense of pleasantcompanionship with him. 

Brother Henry was for trying him on the outside. It was not alwayspossible to fill the orders with the stock on hand, and somebody had togo into the street or the Exchange to buy and usually he did this. One morning, when way-bills indicated a probable glut of flour and ashortage of grain--Frank saw it first--the elder Waterman called himinto his office and said:

"Frank, I wish you would see what you can do with this condition thatconfronts us on the street. By to-morrow we're going to be overcrowdedwith flour. We can't be paying storage charges, and our orders won't eatit up. We're short on grain. Maybe you could trade out the flour to someof those brokers and get me enough grain to fill these orders. "

"I'd like to try, " said his employee. 

He knew from his books where the various commission-houses were. He knewwhat the local merchants' exchange, and the various commission-merchantswho dealt in these things, had to offer. This was the thing he liked todo--adjust a trade difficulty of this nature. It was pleasant to be outin the air again, to be going from door to door. He objected to deskwork and pen work and poring over books. As he said in later years, hisbrain was his office. He hurried to the principal commission-merchants, learning what the state of the flour market was, and offering hissurplus at the very rate he would have expected to get for it ifthere had been no prospective glut. Did they want to buy for immediatedelivery (forty-eight hours being immediate) six hundred barrels ofprime flour? He would offer it at nine dollars straight, in the barrel. They did not. He offered it in fractions, and some agreed to take oneportion, and some another. In about an hour he was all secure on thissave one lot of two hundred barrels, which he decided to offer in onelump to a famous operator named Genderman with whom his firm did nobusiness. The latter, a big man with curly gray hair, a gnarled andyet pudgy face, and little eyes that peeked out shrewdly through fateyelids, looked at Cowperwood curiously when he came in. 

"What's your name, young man?" he asked, leaning back in his woodenchair. 

"Cowperwood. "

"So you work for Waterman & Company? You want to make a record, nodoubt. That's why you came to me?"

Cowperwood merely smiled. 

"Well, I'll take your flour. I need it. Bill it to me. "

Cowperwood hurried out. He went direct to a firm of brokers in WalnutStreet, with whom his firm dealt, and had them bid in the grain heneeded at prevailing rates. Then he returned to the office. 

"Well, " said Henry Waterman, when he reported, "you did that quick. Soldold Genderman two hundred barrels direct, did you? That's doing prettywell. He isn't on our books, is he?"

"No, sir. "

"I thought not. Well, if you can do that sort of work on the street youwon't be on the books long. "

Thereafter, in the course of time, Frank became a familiar figure inthe commission district and on 'change (the Produce Exchange), strikingbalances for his employer, picking up odd lots of things they needed, soliciting new customers, breaking gluts by disposing of odd lotsin unexpected quarters. Indeed the Watermans were astonished athis facility in this respect. He had an uncanny faculty for gettingappreciative hearings, making friends, being introduced into new realms. New life began to flow through the old channels of the Waterman company. Their customers were better satisfied. George was for sending him outinto the rural districts to drum up trade, and this was eventually done. 

Near Christmas-time Henry said to George: "We'll have to make Cowperwooda liberal present. He hasn't any salary. How would five hundred dollarsdo?"

"That's pretty much, seeing the way times are, but I guess he's worthit. He's certainly done everything we've expected, and more. He's cutout for this business. "

"What does he say about it? Do you ever hear him say whether he'ssatisfied?"

"Oh, he likes it pretty much, I guess. You see him as much as I do. "

"Well, we'll make it five hundred. That fellow wouldn't make a badpartner in this business some day. He has the real knack for it. You seethat he gets the five hundred dollars with a word from both of us. "

So the night before Christmas, as Cowperwood was looking over someway-bills and certificates of consignment preparatory to leaving all inorder for the intervening holiday, George Waterman came to his desk. 

"Hard at it, " he said, standing under the flaring gaslight and lookingat his brisk employee with great satisfaction. 

It was early evening, and the snow was making a speckled pattern throughthe windows in front. 

"Just a few points before I wind up, " smiled Cowperwood. 

"My brother and I have been especially pleased with the way you havehandled the work here during the past six months. We wanted to makesome acknowledgment, and we thought about five hundred dollars would beright. Beginning January first we'll give you a regular salary of thirtydollars a week. "

"I'm certainly much obliged to you, " said Frank. "I didn't expect thatmuch. It's a good deal. I've learned considerable here that I'm glad toknow. "

"Oh, don't mention it. We know you've earned it. You can stay with us aslong as you like. We're glad to have you with us. "

Cowperwood smiled his hearty, genial smile. He was feeling verycomfortable under this evidence of approval. He looked bright and cheeryin his well-made clothes of English tweed. 

On the way home that evening he speculated as to the nature of thisbusiness. He knew he wasn't going to stay there long, even in spite ofthis gift and promise of salary. They were grateful, of course; butwhy shouldn't they be? He was efficient, he knew that; under him thingsmoved smoothly. It never occurred to him that he belonged in the realmof clerkdom. Those people were the kind of beings who ought to work forhim, and who would. There was nothing savage in his attitude, no rageagainst fate, no dark fear of failure. These two men he worked forwere already nothing more than characters in his eyes--theirbusiness significated itself. He could see their weaknesses and theirshortcomings as a much older man might have viewed a boy's. 

After dinner that evening, before leaving to call on his girl, MarjorieStafford, he told his father of the gift of five hundred dollars and thepromised salary. 

"That's splendid, " said the older man. "You're doing better than Ithought. I suppose you'll stay there. "

"No, I won't. I think I'll quit sometime next year. "

"Why?"

"Well, it isn't exactly what I want to do. It's all right, but I'drather try my hand at brokerage, I think. That appeals to me. "

"Don't you think you are doing them an injustice not to tell them?"

"Not at all. They need me. " All the while surveying himself in a mirror, straightening his tie and adjusting his coat. 

"Have you told your mother?"

"No. I'm going to do it now. "

He went out into the dining-room, where his mother was, and slipping hisarms around her little body, said: "What do you think, Mammy?"

"Well, what?" she asked, looking affectionately into his eyes. 

"I got five hundred dollars to-night, and I get thirty a week next year. What do you want for Christmas?"

"You don't say! Isn't that nice! Isn't that fine! They must like you. You're getting to be quite a man, aren't you?"

"What do you want for Christmas?"

"Nothing. I don't want anything. I have my children. "

He smiled. "All right. Then nothing it is. "

But she knew he would buy her something. 

He went out, pausing at the door to grab playfully at his sister'swaist, and saying that he'd be back about midnight, hurried toMarjorie's house, because he had promised to take her to a show. 

"Anything you want for Christmas this year, Margy?" he asked, afterkissing her in the dimly-lighted hall. "I got five hundred to-night. "

She was an innocent little thing, only fifteen, no guile, no shrewdness. 

"Oh, you needn't get me anything. "

"Needn't I?" he asked, squeezing her waist and kissing her mouth again. 

It was fine to be getting on this way in the world and having such agood time. 

Chapter V

The following October, having passed his eighteenth year by nearly sixmonths, and feeling sure that he would never want anything to do withthe grain and commission business as conducted by the Waterman Company, Cowperwood decided to sever his relations with them and enter the employof Tighe & Company, bankers and brokers. 

Cowperwood's meeting with Tighe & Company had come about in the ordinarypursuance of his duties as outside man for Waterman & Company. From thefirst Mr. Tighe took a keen interest in this subtle young emissary. 

"How's business with you people?" he would ask, genially; or, "Find thatyou're getting many I. O. U. 's these days?"

Because of the unsettled condition of the country, the over-inflation ofsecurities, the slavery agitation, and so forth, there were prospectsof hard times. And Tighe--he could not have told you why--was convincedthat this young man was worth talking to in regard to all this. He wasnot really old enough to know, and yet he did know. 

"Oh, things are going pretty well with us, thank you, Mr. Tighe, "Cowperwood would answer. 

"I tell you, " he said to Cowperwood one morning, "this slaveryagitation, if it doesn't stop, is going to cause trouble. "

A negro slave belonging to a visitor from Cuba had just been abductedand set free, because the laws of Pennsylvania made freedom the right ofany negro brought into the state, even though in transit only to anotherportion of the country, and there was great excitement because of it. Several persons had been arrested, and the newspapers were discussing itroundly. 

"I don't think the South is going to stand for this thing. It's makingtrouble in our business, and it must be doing the same thing for others. We'll have secession here, sure as fate, one of these days. " He talkedwith the vaguest suggestion of a brogue. 

"It's coming, I think, " said Cowperwood, quietly. "It can't be healed, in my judgment. The negro isn't worth all this excitement, but they'llgo on agitating for him--emotional people always do this. They haven'tanything else to do. It's hurting our Southern trade. "

"I thought so. That's what people tell me. "

He turned to a new customer as young Cowperwood went out, but againthe boy struck him as being inexpressibly sound and deep-thinking onfinancial matters. "If that young fellow wanted a place, I'd give it tohim, " he thought. 

Finally, one day he said to him: "How would you like to try your hand atbeing a floor man for me in 'change? I need a young man here. One of myclerks is leaving. "

"I'd like it, " replied Cowperwood, smiling and looking intenselygratified. "I had thought of speaking to you myself some time. "

"Well, if you're ready and can make the change, the place is open. Comeany time you like. "

"I'll have to give a reasonable notice at the other place, " Cowperwoodsaid, quietly. "Would you mind waiting a week or two?"

"Not at all. It isn't as important as that. Come as soon as you canstraighten things out. I don't want to inconvenience your employers. "

It was only two weeks later that Frank took his departure from Waterman& Company, interested and yet in no way flustered by his new prospects. And great was the grief of Mr. George Waterman. As for Mr. HenryWaterman, he was actually irritated by this defection. 

"Why, I thought, " he exclaimed, vigorously, when informed by Cowperwoodof his decision, "that you liked the business. Is it a matter ofsalary?"

"No, not at all, Mr. Waterman. It's just that I want to get into thestraight-out brokerage business. "

"Well, that certainly is too bad. I'm sorry. I don't want to urge youagainst your own best interests. You know what you are doing. But Georgeand I had about agreed to offer you an interest in this thing after abit. Now you're picking up and leaving. Why, damn it, man, there's goodmoney in this business. "

"I know it, " smiled Cowperwood, "but I don't like it. I have other plansin view. I'll never be a grain and commission man. " Mr. Henry Watermancould scarcely understand why obvious success in this field did notinterest him. He feared the effect of his departure on the business. 

And once the change was made Cowperwood was convinced that this new workwas more suited to him in every way--as easy and more profitable, ofcourse. In the first place, the firm of Tighe & Co. , unlike that ofWaterman & Co. , was located in a handsome green-gray stone buildingat 66 South Third Street, in what was then, and for a number of yearsafterward, the heart of the financial district. Great institutions ofnational and international import and repute were near at hand--Drexel& Co. , Edward Clark & Co. , the Third National Bank, the First NationalBank, the Stock Exchange, and similar institutions. Almost a score ofsmaller banks and brokerage firms were also in the vicinity. EdwardTighe, the head and brains of this concern, was a Boston Irishman, the son of an immigrant who had flourished and done well in thatconservative city. He had come to Philadelphia to interest himself inthe speculative life there. "Sure, it's a right good place for those ofus who are awake, " he told his friends, with a slight Irish accent, andhe considered himself very much awake. He was a medium-tall man, notvery stout, slightly and prematurely gray, and with a manner which wasas lively and good-natured as it was combative and self-reliant. Hisupper lip was ornamented by a short, gray mustache. 

"May heaven preserve me, " he said, not long after he came there, "thesePennsylvanians never pay for anything they can issue bonds for. " Itwas the period when Pennsylvania's credit, and for that matterPhiladelphia's, was very bad in spite of its great wealth. "If there'sever a war there'll be battalions of Pennsylvanians marching aroundoffering notes for their meals. If I could just live long enough I couldget rich buyin' up Pennsylvania notes and bonds. I think they'll paysome time; but, my God, they're mortal slow! I'll be dead before theState government will ever catch up on the interest they owe me now. "

It was true. The condition of the finances of the state and city wasmost reprehensible. Both State and city were rich enough; but there wereso many schemes for looting the treasury in both instances that when anynew work had to be undertaken bonds were necessarily issued to raise themoney. These bonds, or warrants, as they were called, pledged interestat six per cent. ; but when the interest fell due, instead of paying it, the city or State treasurer, as the case might be, stamped the same withthe date of presentation, and the warrant then bore interest for notonly its original face value, but the amount then due in interest. Inother words, it was being slowly compounded. But this did not helpthe man who wanted to raise money, for as security they could not behypothecated for more than seventy per cent. Of their market value, andthey were not selling at par, but at ninety. A man might buy or acceptthem in foreclosure, but he had a long wait. Also, in the final paymentof most of them favoritism ruled, for it was only when the treasurerknew that certain warrants were in the hands of "a friend" that he wouldadvertise that such and such warrants--those particular ones that heknew about--would be paid. 

What was more, the money system of the United States was only thenbeginning slowly to emerge from something approximating chaos tosomething more nearly approaching order. The United States Bank, ofwhich Nicholas Biddle was the progenitor, had gone completely in 1841, and the United States Treasury with its subtreasury system had comein 1846; but still there were many, many wildcat banks, sufficientin number to make the average exchange-counter broker a walkingencyclopedia of solvent and insolvent institutions. Still, thingswere slowly improving, for the telegraph had facilitated stock-marketquotations, not only between New York, Boston, and Philadelphia, butbetween a local broker's office in Philadelphia and his stockexchange. In other words, the short private wire had been introduced. Communication was quicker and freer, and daily grew better. 

Railroads had been built to the South, East, North, and West. There wasas yet no stock-ticker and no telephone, and the clearing-house had onlyrecently been thought of in New York, and had not yet been introduced inPhiladelphia. Instead of a clearing-house service, messengers ran dailybetween banks and brokerage firms, balancing accounts on pass-books, exchanging bills, and, once a week, transferring the gold coin, whichwas the only thing that could be accepted for balances due, since therewas no stable national currency. "On 'change, " when the gong struckannouncing the close of the day's business, a company of young men, known as "settlement clerks, " after a system borrowed from London, gathered in the center of the room and compared or gathered the varioustrades of the day in a ring, thus eliminating all those sales andresales between certain firms which naturally canceled each other. Theycarried long account books, and called out the transactions--"Delawareand Maryland sold to Beaumont and Company, " "Delware and Maryland soldto Tighe and Company, " and so on. This simplified the bookkeeping ofthe various firms, and made for quicker and more stirring commercialtransactions. 

Seats "on 'change" sold for two thousand dollars each. The members ofthe exchange had just passed rules limiting the trading to the hoursbetween ten and three (before this they had been any time betweenmorning and midnight), and had fixed the rates at which brokers could dobusiness, in the face of cut-throat schemes which had previously held. Severe penalties were fixed for those who failed to obey. In otherwords, things were shaping up for a great 'change business, and EdwardTighe felt, with other brokers, that there was a great future ahead. 

Chapter VI

The Cowperwood family was by this time established in its new and largerand more tastefully furnished house on North Front Street, facing theriver. The house was four stories tall and stood twenty-five feet on thestreet front, without a yard. 

Here the family began to entertain in a small way, and there came to seethem, now and then, representatives of the various interests thatHenry Cowperwood had encountered in his upward climb to the positionof cashier. It was not a very distinguished company, but it included anumber of people who were about as successful as himself--heads ofsmall businesses who traded at his bank, dealers in dry-goods, leather, groceries (wholesale), and grain. The children had come to haveintimacies of their own. Now and then, because of church connections, Mrs. Cowperwood ventured to have an afternoon tea or reception, at whicheven Cowperwood attempted the gallant in so far as to stand about in agenially foolish way and greet those whom his wife had invited. And solong as he could maintain his gravity very solemnly and greet peoplewithout being required to say much, it was not too painful for him. Singing was indulged in at times, a little dancing on occasion, andthere was considerably more "company to dinner, " informally, than therehad been previously. 

And here it was, during the first year of the new life in this house, that Frank met a certain Mrs. Semple, who interested him greatly. Herhusband had a pretentious shoe store on Chestnut Street, near Third, andwas planning to open a second one farther out on the same street. 

The occasion of the meeting was an evening call on the part of theSemples, Mr. Semple being desirous of talking with Henry Cowperwoodconcerning a new transportation feature which was then entering theworld--namely, street-cars. A tentative line, incorporated by the NorthPennsylvania Railway Company, had been put into operation on a mile anda half of tracks extending from Willow Street along Front to GermantownRoad, and thence by various streets to what was then known as theCohocksink Depot; and it was thought that in time this mode oflocomotion might drive out the hundreds of omnibuses which now crowdedand made impassable the downtown streets. Young Cowperwood had beengreatly interested from the start. Railway transportation, as a whole, interested him, anyway, but this particular phase was most fascinating. It was already creating widespread discussion, and he, with others, hadgone to see it. A strange but interesting new type of car, fourteen feetlong, seven feet wide, and nearly the same height, running on smalliron car-wheels, was giving great satisfaction as being quieterand easier-riding than omnibuses; and Alfred Semple was privatelyconsidering investing in another proposed line which, if it could securea franchise from the legislature, was to run on Fifth and Sixth streets. 

Cowperwood, Senior, saw a great future for this thing; but he did notsee as yet how the capital was to be raised for it. Frank believed thatTighe & Co. Should attempt to become the selling agents of this newstock of the Fifth and Sixth Street Company in the event it succeededin getting a franchise. He understood that a company was already formed, that a large amount of stock was to be issued against the prospectivefranchise, and that these shares were to be sold at five dollars, as against an ultimate par value of one hundred. He wished he hadsufficient money to take a large block of them. 

Meanwhile, Lillian Semple caught and held his interest. Just what it wasabout her that attracted him at this age it would be hard to say, for she was really not suited to him emotionally, intellectually, orotherwise. He was not without experience with women or girls, andstill held a tentative relationship with Marjorie Stafford; but LillianSemple, in spite of the fact that she was married and that he could havelegitimate interest in her, seemed not wiser and saner, but more worthwhile. She was twenty-four as opposed to Frank's nineteen, but stillyoung enough in her thoughts and looks to appear of his own age. She wasslightly taller than he--though he was now his full height (five feetten and one-half inches)--and, despite her height, shapely, artisticin form and feature, and with a certain unconscious placidity of soul, which came more from lack of understanding than from force of character. Her hair was the color of a dried English walnut, rich and plentiful, and her complexion waxen--cream wax---with lips of faint pink, and eyesthat varied from gray to blue and from gray to brown, according to thelight in which you saw them. Her hands were thin and shapely, her nosestraight, her face artistically narrow. She was not brilliant, not active, but rather peaceful and statuesque without knowing it. Cowperwood was carried away by her appearance. Her beauty measured up tohis present sense of the artistic. She was lovely, he thought--gracious, dignified. If he could have his choice of a wife, this was the kind of agirl he would like to have. 

As yet, Cowperwood's judgment of women was temperamental rather thanintellectual. Engrossed as he was by his desire for wealth, prestige, dominance, he was confused, if not chastened by considerations relatingto position, presentability and the like. None the less, the homelywoman meant nothing to him. And the passionate woman meant much. Heheard family discussions of this and that sacrificial soul among women, as well as among men--women who toiled and slaved for their husbandsor children, or both, who gave way to relatives or friends in crisesor crucial moments, because it was right and kind to do so--butsomehow these stories did not appeal to him. He preferred to think ofpeople--even women--as honestly, frankly self-interested. He couldnot have told you why. People seemed foolish, or at the best veryunfortunate not to know what to do in all circumstances and how toprotect themselves. There was great talk concerning morality, muchpraise of virtue and decency, and much lifting of hands in righteoushorror at people who broke or were even rumored to have broken theSeventh Commandment. He did not take this talk seriously. Already he hadbroken it secretly many times. Other young men did. Yet again, he was alittle sick of the women of the streets and the bagnio. There weretoo many coarse, evil features in connection with such contacts. Fora little while, the false tinsel-glitter of the house of ill reputeappealed to him, for there was a certain force to its luxury--rich, asa rule, with red-plush furniture, showy red hangings, some coarse butshowily-framed pictures, and, above all, the strong-bodied or sensuouslylymphatic women who dwelt there, to (as his mother phrased it) prey onmen. The strength of their bodies, the lust of their souls, the factthat they could, with a show of affection or good-nature, receive manafter man, astonished and later disgusted him. After all, they were notsmart. There was no vivacity of thought there. All that they could do, in the main, he fancied, was this one thing. He pictured to himself thedreariness of the mornings after, the stale dregs of things when onlysleep and thought of gain could aid in the least; and more than once, even at his age, he shook his head. He wanted contact which was moreintimate, subtle, individual, personal. 

So came Lillian Semple, who was nothing more to him than the shadow ofan ideal. Yet she cleared up certain of his ideas in regard to women. She was not physically as vigorous or brutal as those other womenwhom he had encountered in the lupanars, thus far--raw, unashamedcontraveners of accepted theories and notions--and for that veryreason he liked her. And his thoughts continued to dwell on her, notwithstanding the hectic days which now passed like flashes of lightin his new business venture. For this stock exchange world in whichhe now found himself, primitive as it would seem to-day, was mostfascinating to Cowperwood. The room that he went to in Third Street, atDock, where the brokers or their agents and clerks gathered one hundredand fifty strong, was nothing to speak of artistically--a squarechamber sixty by sixty, reaching from the second floor to the roof of afour-story building; but it was striking to him. The windows were highand narrow; a large-faced clock faced the west entrance of theroom where you came in from the stairs; a collection of telegraphinstruments, with their accompanying desks and chairs, occupied thenortheast corner. On the floor, in the early days of the exchange, wererows of chairs where the brokers sat while various lots of stocks wereoffered to them. Later in the history of the exchange the chairs wereremoved and at different points posts or floor-signs indicating wherecertain stocks were traded in were introduced. Around these the men whowere interested gathered to do their trading. From a hall on the thirdfloor a door gave entrance to a visitor's gallery, small and poorlyfurnished; and on the west wall a large blackboard carried currentquotations in stocks as telegraphed from New York and Boston. Awicket-like fence in the center of the room surrounded the desk andchair of the official recorder; and a very small gallery opening fromthe third floor on the west gave place for the secretary of the board, when he had any special announcement to make. There was a room off thesouthwest corner, where reports and annual compendiums of chairs wereremoved and at different signs indicating where certain stocks ofvarious kinds were kept and were available for the use of members. 

Young Cowperwood would not have been admitted at all, as either a brokeror broker's agent or assistant, except that Tighe, feeling that heneeded him and believing that he would be very useful, bought him a seaton 'change--charging the two thousand dollars it cost as a debt and thenostensibly taking him into partnership. It was against the rules of theexchange to sham a partnership in this way in order to put a man on thefloor, but brokers did it. These men who were known to be minor partnersand floor assistants were derisively called "eighth chasers" and"two-dollar brokers, " because they were always seeking small orders andwere willing to buy or sell for anybody on their commission, accounting, of course, to their firms for their work. Cowperwood, regardless of hisintrinsic merits, was originally counted one of their number, and he wasput under the direction of Mr. Arthur Rivers, the regular floor man ofTighe & Company. 

Rivers was an exceedingly forceful man of thirty-five, well-dressed, well-formed, with a hard, smooth, evenly chiseled face, which wasornamented by a short, black mustache and fine, black, clearly penciledeyebrows. His hair came to an odd point at the middle of his forehead, where he divided it, and his chin was faintly and attractively cleft. Hehad a soft voice, a quiet, conservative manner, and both in and out ofthis brokerage and trading world was controlled by good form. Cowperwoodwondered at first why Rivers should work for Tighe--he appeared almostas able--but afterward learned that he was in the company. Tighe was theorganizer and general hand-shaker, Rivers the floor and outside man. 

It was useless, as Frank soon found, to try to figure out exactly whystocks rose and fell. Some general reasons there were, of course, as hewas told by Tighe, but they could not always be depended on. 

"Sure, anything can make or break a market"--Tighe explained in hisdelicate brogue--"from the failure of a bank to the rumor that yoursecond cousin's grandmother has a cold. It's a most unusual world, Cowperwood. No man can explain it. I've seen breaks in stocks that youcould never explain at all--no one could. It wouldn't be possible tofind out why they broke. I've seen rises the same way. My God, therumors of the stock exchange! They beat the devil. If they're going downin ordinary times some one is unloading, or they're rigging the market. If they're going up--God knows times must be good or somebody mustbe buying--that's sure. Beyond that--well, ask Rivers to show you theropes. Don't you ever lose for me, though. That's the cardinal sin inthis office. " He grinned maliciously, even if kindly, at that. 

Cowperwood understood--none better. This subtle world appealed to him. It answered to his temperament. 

There were rumors, rumors, rumors--of great railway and street-carundertakings, land developments, government revision of the tariff, warbetween France and Turkey, famine in Russia or Ireland, and so on. Thefirst Atlantic cable had not been laid as yet, and news of any kind fromabroad was slow and meager. Still there were great financial figures inthe held, men who, like Cyrus Field, or William H. Vanderbilt, or F. X. Drexel, were doing marvelous things, and their activities and the rumorsconcerning them counted for much. 

Frank soon picked up all of the technicalities of the situation. A"bull, " he learned, was one who bought in anticipation of a higher priceto come; and if he was "loaded up" with a "line" of stocks he was saidto be "long. " He sold to "realize" his profit, or if his margins wereexhausted he was "wiped out. " A "bear" was one who sold stocks whichmost frequently he did not have, in anticipation of a lower price, atwhich he could buy and satisfy his previous sales. He was "short" whenhe had sold what he did not own, and he "covered" when he bought tosatisfy his sales and to realize his profits or to protect himselfagainst further loss in case prices advanced instead of declining. Hewas in a "corner" when he found that he could not buy in order to makegood the stock he had borrowed for delivery and the return of whichhad been demanded. He was then obliged to settle practically at a pricefixed by those to whom he and other "shorts" had sold. 

He smiled at first at the air of great secrecy and wisdom on the partof the younger men. They were so heartily and foolishly suspicious. Theolder men, as a rule, were inscrutable. They pretended indifference, uncertainty. They were like certain fish after a certain kind of bait, however. Snap! and the opportunity was gone. Somebody else had picked upwhat you wanted. All had their little note-books. All had their peculiarsquint of eye or position or motion which meant "Done! I take you!"Sometimes they seemed scarcely to confirm their sales or purchases--theyknew each other so well--but they did. If the market was for any reasonactive, the brokers and their agents were apt to be more numerous thanif it were dull and the trading indifferent. A gong sounded the call totrading at ten o'clock, and if there was a noticeable rise or decline ina stock or a group of stocks, you were apt to witness quite a spiritedscene. Fifty to a hundred men would shout, gesticulate, shove here andthere in an apparently aimless manner; endeavoring to take advantage ofthe stock offered or called for. 

"Five-eighths for five hundred P. And W. , " some one would call--Riversor Cowperwood, or any other broker. 

"Five hundred at three-fourths, " would come the reply from some oneelse, who either had an order to sell the stock at that price or whowas willing to sell it short, hoping to pick up enough of the stock ata lower figure later to fill his order and make a little somethingbesides. If the supply of stock at that figure was large Rivers wouldprobably continue to bid five-eighths. If, on the other hand, he noticedan increasing demand, he would probably pay three-fourths for it. Ifthe professional traders believed Rivers had a large buying order, theywould probably try to buy the stock before he could at three-fourths, believing they could sell it out to him at a slightly higher price. Theprofessional traders were, of course, keen students of psychology; andtheir success depended on their ability to guess whether or not a brokerrepresenting a big manipulator, like Tighe, had an order large enoughto affect the market sufficiently to give them an opportunity to "getin and out, " as they termed it, at a profit before he had completed theexecution of his order. They were like hawks watching for an opportunityto snatch their prey from under the very claws of their opponents. 

Four, five, ten, fifteen, twenty, thirty, forty, fifty, and sometimesthe whole company would attempt to take advantage of the given rise ofa given stock by either selling or offering to buy, in which case theactivity and the noise would become deafening. Given groups mightbe trading in different things; but the large majority of them wouldabandon what they were doing in order to take advantage of a speciality. The eagerness of certain young brokers or clerks to discover all thatwas going on, and to take advantage of any given rise or fall, madefor quick physical action, darting to and fro, the excited elevation ofexplanatory fingers. Distorted faces were shoved over shoulders orunder arms. The most ridiculous grimaces were purposely or unconsciouslyindulged in. At times there were situations in which some individual wasfairly smothered with arms, faces, shoulders, crowded toward him whenhe manifested any intention of either buying or selling at aprofitable rate. At first it seemed quite a wonderful thing to youngCowperwood--the very physical face of it--for he liked human presenceand activity; but a little later the sense of the thing as a picture ora dramatic situation, of which he was a part faded, and he came down toa clearer sense of the intricacies of the problem before him. Buyingand selling stocks, as he soon learned, was an art, a subtlety, almost apsychic emotion. Suspicion, intuition, feeling--these were the things tobe "long" on. 

Yet in time he also asked himself, who was it who made the realmoney--the stock-brokers? Not at all. Some of them were making money, but they were, as he quickly saw, like a lot of gulls or stormy petrels, hanging on the lee of the wind, hungry and anxious to snap up anyunwary fish. Back of them were other men, men with shrewd ideas, subtleresources. Men of immense means whose enterprise and holdings thesestocks represented, the men who schemed out and built the railroads, opened the mines, organized trading enterprises, and built up immensemanufactories. They might use brokers or other agents to buy and sell on'change; but this buying and selling must be, and always was, incidentalto the actual fact--the mine, the railroad, the wheat crop, the flourmill, and so on. Anything less than straight-out sales to realizequickly on assets, or buying to hold as an investment, was gamblingpure and simple, and these men were gamblers. He was nothing more thana gambler's agent. It was not troubling him any just at this moment, butit was not at all a mystery now, what he was. As in the case of Waterman& Company, he sized up these men shrewdly, judging some to be weak, somefoolish, some clever, some slow, but in the main all small-minded ordeficient because they were agents, tools, or gamblers. A man, a realman, must never be an agent, a tool, or a gambler--acting for himselfor for others--he must employ such. A real man--a financier--was never atool. He used tools. He created. He led. 

Clearly, very clearly, at nineteen, twenty, and twenty-one years of age, he saw all this, but he was not quite ready yet to do anything about it. He was certain, however, that his day would come. 

Chapter VII

In the meantime, his interest in Mrs. Semple had been secretly andstrangely growing. When he received an invitation to call at the Semplehome, he accepted with a great deal of pleasure. Their house was locatednot so very far from his own, on North Front Street, in the neighborhoodof what is now known as No. 956. It had, in summer, quite a wealth ofgreen leaves and vines. The little side porch which ornamented its southwall commanded a charming view of the river, and all the windows anddoors were topped with lunettes of small-paned glass. The interiorof the house was not as pleasing as he would have had it. Artisticimpressiveness, as to the furniture at least, was wanting, although itwas new and good. The pictures were--well, simply pictures. There wereno books to speak of--the Bible, a few current novels, some of the moresignificant histories, and a collection of antiquated odds and ends inthe shape of books inherited from relatives. The china was good--of adelicate pattern. The carpets and wall-paper were too high in key. So itwent. Still, the personality of Lillian Semple was worth something, for she was really pleasing to look upon, making a picture wherever shestood or sat. 

There were no children--a dispensation of sex conditions which hadnothing to do with her, for she longed to have them. She was without anynotable experience in social life, except such as had come to the Wigginfamily, of which she was a member--relatives and a few neighborhoodfriends visiting. Lillian Wiggin, that was her maiden name--had twobrothers and one sister, all living in Philadelphia and all married atthis time. They thought she had done very well in her marriage. 

It could not be said that she had wildly loved Mr. Semple at any time. Although she had cheerfully married him, he was not the kind of man whocould arouse a notable passion in any woman. He was practical, methodic, orderly. His shoe store was a good one--well-stocked with stylesreflecting the current tastes and a model of cleanliness and what onemight term pleasing brightness. He loved to talk, when he talked atall, of shoe manufacturing, the development of lasts and styles. Theready-made shoe--machine-made to a certain extent--was just coming intoits own slowly, and outside of these, supplies of which he kept, heemployed bench-making shoemakers, satisfying his customers with personalmeasurements and making the shoes to order. 

Mrs. Semple read a little--not much. She had a habit of sitting andapparently brooding reflectively at times, but it was not based on anydeep thought. She had that curious beauty of body, though, that made hersomewhat like a figure on an antique vase, or out of a Greek chorus. Itwas in this light, unquestionably, that Cowperwood saw her, for from thebeginning he could not keep his eyes off her. In a way, she was awareof this but she did not attach any significance to it. Thoroughlyconventional, satisfied now that her life was bound permanentlywith that of her husband, she had settled down to a staid and quietexistence. 

At first, when Frank called, she did not have much to say. She wasgracious, but the burden of conversation fell on her husband. Cowperwoodwatched the varying expression of her face from time to time, and if shehad been at all psychic she must have felt something. Fortunately shewas not. Semple talked to him pleasantly, because in the first placeFrank was becoming financially significant, was suave and ingratiating, and in the next place he was anxious to get richer and somehow Frankrepresented progress to him in that line. One spring evening they sat onthe porch and talked--nothing very important--slavery, street-cars, thepanic--it was on then, that of 1857--the development of the West. Mr. Semple wanted to know all about the stock exchange. In return Frankasked about the shoe business, though he really did not care. All thewhile, inoffensively, he watched Mrs. Semple. Her manner, he thought, was soothing, attractive, delightful. She served tea and cake for them. They went inside after a time to avoid the mosquitoes. She played thepiano. At ten o'clock he left. 

Thereafter, for a year or so, Cowperwood bought his shoes of Mr. Semple. Occasionally also he stopped in the Chestnut Street store to exchangethe time of the day. Semple asked his opinion as to the advisabilityof buying some shares in the Fifth and Sixth Street line, which, havingsecured a franchise, was creating great excitement. Cowperwood gavehim his best judgment. It was sure to be profitable. He himself hadpurchased one hundred shares at five dollars a share, and urged Sempleto do so. But he was not interested in him personally. He liked Mrs. Semple, though he did not see her very often. 

About a year later, Mr. Semple died. It was an untimely death, oneof those fortuitous and in a way insignificant episodes which are, nevertheless, dramatic in a dull way to those most concerned. He wasseized with a cold in the chest late in the fall--one of those seizuresordinarily attributed to wet feet or to going out on a damp day withoutan overcoat--and had insisted on going to business when Mrs. Sempleurged him to stay at home and recuperate. He was in his way a verydetermined person, not obstreperously so, but quietly and under thesurface. Business was a great urge. He saw himself soon to be worthabout fifty thousand dollars. Then this cold--nine more days ofpneumonia--and he was dead. The shoe store was closed for a few days;the house was full of sympathetic friends and church people. There wasa funeral, with burial service in the Callowhill Presbyterian Church, towhich they belonged, and then he was buried. Mrs. Semple cried bitterly. The shock of death affected her greatly and left her for a time in adepressed state. A brother of hers, David Wiggin, undertook for the timebeing to run the shoe business for her. There was no will, but in thefinal adjustment, which included the sale of the shoe business, therebeing no desire on anybody's part to contest her right to all theproperty, she received over eighteen thousand dollars. She continuedto reside in the Front Street house, and was considered a charming andinteresting widow. 

Throughout this procedure young Cowperwood, only twenty years of age, was quietly manifest. He called during the illness. He attended thefuneral. He helped her brother, David Wiggin, dispose of the shoebusiness. He called once or twice after the funeral, then stayed awayfor a considerable time. In five months he reappeared, and thereafter hewas a caller at stated intervals--periods of a week or ten days. 

Again, it would be hard to say what he saw in Semple. Her prettiness, wax-like in its quality, fascinated him; her indifference arousedperhaps his combative soul. He could not have explained why, but hewanted her in an urgent, passionate way. He could not think of herreasonably, and he did not talk of her much to any one. His family knewthat he went to see her, but there had grown up in the Cowperwood familya deep respect for the mental force of Frank. He was genial, cheerful, gay at most times, without being talkative, and he was decidedlysuccessful. Everybody knew he was making money now. His salary was fiftydollars a week, and he was certain soon to get more. Some lots of his inWest Philadelphia, bought three years before, had increased notably invalue. His street-car holdings, augmented by still additional lots offifty and one hundred and one hundred and fifty shares in new linesincorporated, were slowly rising, in spite of hard times, from theinitiative five dollars in each case to ten, fifteen, and twenty-fivedollars a share--all destined to go to par. He was liked in thefinancial district and he was sure that he had a successful future. Because of his analysis of the brokerage situation he had come to theconclusion that he did not want to be a stock gambler. Instead, he wasconsidering the matter of engaging in bill-brokering, a business whichhe had observed to be very profitable and which involved no risk as longas one had capital. Through his work and his father's connections hehad met many people--merchants, bankers, traders. He could get theirbusiness, or a part of it, he knew. People in Drexel & Co. And Clark &Co. Were friendly to him. Jay Cooke, a rising banking personality, was apersonal friend of his. 

Meanwhile he called on Mrs. Semple, and the more he called the better heliked her. There was no exchange of brilliant ideas between them; but hehad a way of being comforting and social when he wished. He advisedher about her business affairs in so intelligent a way that even herrelatives approved of it. She came to like him, because he was soconsiderate, quiet, reassuring, and so ready to explain over and overuntil everything was quite plain to her. She could see that he waslooking on her affairs quite as if they were his own, trying to makethem safe and secure. 

"You're so very kind, Frank, " she said to him, one night. "I'm awfullygrateful. I don't know what I would have done if it hadn't been foryou. "

She looked at his handsome face, which was turned to hers, withchild-like simplicity. 

"Not at all. Not at all. I want to do it. I wouldn't have been happy ifI couldn't. "

His eyes had a peculiar, subtle ray in them--not a gleam. She felt warmtoward him, sympathetic, quite satisfied that she could lean on him. 

"Well, I am very grateful just the same. You've been so good. Come outSunday again, if you want to, or any evening. I'll be home. "

It was while he was calling on her in this way that his Uncle Senecadied in Cuba and left him fifteen thousand dollars. This money made himworth nearly twenty-five thousand dollars in his own right, and he knewexactly what to do with it. A panic had come since Mr. Semple had died, which had illustrated to him very clearly what an uncertain thing thebrokerage business was. There was really a severe business depression. Money was so scarce that it could fairly be said not to exist at all. Capital, frightened by uncertain trade and money conditions, everywhere, retired to its hiding-places in banks, vaults, tea-kettles, andstockings. The country seemed to be going to the dogs. War with theSouth or secession was vaguely looming up in the distance. The temper ofthe whole nation was nervous. People dumped their holdings on the marketin order to get money. Tighe discharged three of his clerks. He cut downhis expenses in every possible way, and used up all his private savingsto protect his private holdings. He mortgaged his house, his landholdings--everything; and in many instances young Cowperwood was hisintermediary, carrying blocks of shares to different banks to get whathe could on them. 

"See if your father's bank won't loan me fifteen thousand on these, " hesaid to Frank, one day, producing a bundle of Philadelphia & Wilmingtonshares. Frank had heard his father speak of them in times past asexcellent. 

"They ought to be good, " the elder Cowperwood said, dubiously, whenshown the package of securities. "At any other time they would be. Butmoney is so tight. We find it awfully hard these days to meet our ownobligations. I'll talk to Mr. Kugel. " Mr. Kugel was the president. 

There was a long conversation--a long wait. His father came back to sayit was doubtful whether they could make the loan. Eight per cent. , thenbeing secured for money, was a small rate of interest, considering itsneed. For ten per cent. Mr. Kugel might make a call-loan. Frank wentback to his employer, whose commercial choler rose at the report. 

"For Heaven's sake, is there no money at all in the town?" he demanded, contentiously. "Why, the interest they want is ruinous! I can't standthat. Well, take 'em back and bring me the money. Good God, this'llnever do at all, at all!"

Frank went back. "He'll pay ten per cent. , " he said, quietly. 

Tighe was credited with a deposit of fifteen thousand dollars, withprivilege to draw against it at once. He made out a check for thetotal fifteen thousand at once to the Girard National Bank to cover ashrinkage there. So it went. 

During all these days young Cowperwood was following these financialcomplications with interest. He was not disturbed by the cause ofslavery, or the talk of secession, or the general progress or decline ofthe country, except in so far as it affected his immediate interests. Helonged to become a stable financier; but, now that he saw the inside ofthe brokerage business, he was not so sure that he wanted to stay init. Gambling in stocks, according to conditions produced by this panic, seemed very hazardous. A number of brokers failed. He saw them rush into Tighe with anguished faces and ask that certain trades be canceled. Their very homes were in danger, they said. They would be wiped out, their wives and children put out on the street. 

This panic, incidentally, only made Frank more certain as to what hereally wanted to do--now that he had this free money, he would go intobusiness for himself. Even Tighe's offer of a minor partnership failedto tempt him. 

"I think you have a nice business, " he explained, in refusing, "but Iwant to get in the note-brokerage business for myself. I don't trustthis stock game. I'd rather have a little business of my own than allthe floor work in this world. "

"But you're pretty young, Frank, " argued his employer. "You have lots oftime to work for yourself. " In the end he parted friends with both Tigheand Rivers. "That's a smart young fellow, " observed Tighe, ruefully. 

"He'll make his mark, " rejoined Rivers. "He's the shrewdest boy of hisage I ever saw. "

Chapter VIII

Cowperwood's world at this time was of roseate hue. He was in love andhad money of his own to start his new business venture. He could takehis street-car stocks, which were steadily increasing in value, andraise seventy per cent. Of their market value. He could put a mortgageon his lots and get money there, if necessary. He had establishedfinancial relations with the Girard National Bank--President Davisonthere having taken a fancy to him--and he proposed to borrow from thatinstitution some day. All he wanted was suitable investments--things inwhich he could realize surely, quickly. He saw fine prospective profitsin the street-car lines, which were rapidly developing into localramifications. 

He purchased a horse and buggy about this time--the mostattractive-looking animal and vehicle he could find--the combinationcost him five hundred dollars--and invited Mrs. Semple to drive withhim. She refused at first, but later consented. He had told her of hissuccess, his prospects, his windfall of fifteen thousand dollars, hisintention of going into the note-brokerage business. She knew his fatherwas likely to succeed to the position of vice-president in the ThirdNational Bank, and she liked the Cowperwoods. Now she began to realizethat there was something more than mere friendship here. This erstwhileboy was a man, and he was calling on her. It was almost ridiculous inthe face of things--her seniority, her widowhood, her placid, retiringdisposition--but the sheer, quiet, determined force of this young manmade it plain that he was not to be balked by her sense of convention. 

Cowperwood did not delude himself with any noble theories of conduct inregard to her. She was beautiful, with a mental and physical lure forhim that was irresistible, and that was all he desired to know. No otherwoman was holding him like that. It never occurred to him that he couldnot or should not like other women at the same time. There was a greatdeal of palaver about the sanctity of the home. It rolled off his mentalsphere like water off the feathers of a duck. He was not eager for hermoney, though he was well aware of it. He felt that he could use itto her advantage. He wanted her physically. He felt a keen, primitiveinterest in the children they would have. He wanted to find out if hecould make her love him vigorously and could rout out the memory of herformer life. Strange ambition. Strange perversion, one might almost say. 

In spite of her fears and her uncertainty, Lillian Semple accepted hisattentions and interest because, equally in spite of herself, she wasdrawn to him. One night, when she was going to bed, she stopped in frontof her dressing table and looked at her face and her bare neck and arms. They were very pretty. A subtle something came over her as she surveyedher long, peculiarly shaded hair. She thought of young Cowperwood, andthen was chilled and shamed by the vision of the late Mr. Semple and theforce and quality of public opinion. 

"Why do you come to see me so often?" she asked him when he called thefollowing evening. 

"Oh, don't you know?" he replied, looking at her in an interpretive way. 

"No. "

"Sure you don't?"

"Well, I know you liked Mr. Semple, and I always thought you liked me ashis wife. He's gone, though, now. "

"And you're here, " he replied. 

"And I'm here?"

"Yes. I like you. I like to be with you. Don't you like me that way?"

"Why, I've never thought of it. You're so much younger. I'm five yearsolder than you are. "

"In years, " he said, "certainly. That's nothing. I'm fifteen years olderthan you are in other ways. I know more about life in some ways thanyou can ever hope to learn--don't you think so?" he added, softly, persuasively. 

"Well, that's true. But I know a lot of things you don't know. " Shelaughed softly, showing her pretty teeth. 

It was evening. They were on the side porch. The river was before them. 

"Yes, but that's only because you're a woman. A man can't hope to get awoman's point of view exactly. But I'm talking about practical affairsof this world. You're not as old that way as I am. "

"Well, what of it?"

"Nothing. You asked why I came to see you. That's why. Partly. "

He relapsed into silence and stared at the water. 

She looked at him. His handsome body, slowly broadening, was nearly fullgrown. His face, because of its full, clear, big, inscrutable eyes, hadan expression which was almost babyish. She could not have guessed thedepths it veiled. His cheeks were pink, his hands not large, but sinewyand strong. Her pale, uncertain, lymphatic body extracted a form ofdynamic energy from him even at this range. 

"I don't think you ought to come to see me so often. People won't thinkwell of it. " She ventured to take a distant, matronly air--the air shehad originally held toward him. 

"People, " he said, "don't worry about people. People think what you wantthem to think. I wish you wouldn't take that distant air toward me. "

"Why?"

"Because I like you. "

"But you mustn't like me. It's wrong. I can't ever marry you. You're tooyoung. I'm too old. "

"Don't say that!" he said, imperiously. "There's nothing to it. I wantyou to marry me. You know I do. Now, when will it be?"

"Why, how silly! I never heard of such a thing!" she exclaimed. "It willnever be, Frank. It can't be!"

"Why can't it?" he asked. 

"Because--well, because I'm older. People would think it strange. I'mnot long enough free. "

"Oh, long enough nothing!" he exclaimed, irritably. "That's the onething I have against you--you are so worried about what people think. They don't make your life. They certainly don't make mine. Think ofyourself first. You have your own life to make. Are you going to letwhat other people think stand in the way of what you want to do?"

"But I don't want to, " she smiled. 

He arose and came over to her, looking into her eyes. 

"Well?" she asked, nervously, quizzically. 

He merely looked at her. 

"Well?" she queried, more flustered. 

He stooped down to take her arms, but she got up. 

"Now you must not come near me, " she pleaded, determinedly. "I'll goin the house, and I'll not let you come any more. It's terrible! You'resilly! You mustn't interest yourself in me. "

She did show a good deal of determination, and he desisted. But for thetime being only. He called again and again. Then one night, when theyhad gone inside because of the mosquitoes, and when she had insistedthat he must stop coming to see her, that his attentions were noticeableto others, and that she would be disgraced, he caught her, underdesperate protest, in his arms. 

"Now, see here!" she exclaimed. "I told you! It's silly! You mustn'tkiss me! How dare you! Oh! oh! oh!--"

She broke away and ran up the near-by stairway to her room. Cowperwoodfollowed her swiftly. As she pushed the door to he forced it openand recaptured her. He lifted her bodily from her feet and held hercrosswise, lying in his arms. 

"Oh, how could you!" she exclaimed. "I will never speak to you any more. I will never let you come here any more if you don't put me down thisminute. Put me down!"

"I'll put you down, sweet, " he said. "I'll take you down, " at the sametime pulling her face to him and kissing her. He was very much aroused, excited. 

While she was twisting and protesting, he carried her down the stairsagain into the living-room, and seated himself in the great armchair, still holding her tight in his arms. 

"Oh!" she sighed, falling limp on his shoulder when he refused to lether go. Then, because of the set determination of his face, some intensepull in him, she smiled. "How would I ever explain if I did marry you?"she asked, weakly. "Your father! Your mother!"

"You don't need to explain. I'll do that. And you needn't worry about myfamily. They won't care. "

"But mine, " she recoiled. 

"Don't worry about yours. I'm not marrying your family. I'm marryingyou. We have independent means. "

She relapsed into additional protests; but he kissed her the more. Therewas a deadly persuasion to his caresses. Mr. Semple had never displayedany such fire. He aroused a force of feeling in her which had notpreviously been there. She was afraid of it and ashamed. 

"Will you marry me in a month?" he asked, cheerfully, when she paused. 

"You know I won't!" she exclaimed, nervously. "The idea! Why do youask?"

"What difference does it make? We're going to get married eventually. "He was thinking how attractive he could make her look in othersurroundings. Neither she nor his family knew how to live. 

"Well, not in a month. Wait a little while. I will marry you after awhile--after you see whether you want me. "

He caught her tight. "I'll show you, " he said. 

"Please stop. You hurt me. "

"How about it? Two months?"

"Certainly not. "

"Three?"

"Well, maybe. "

"No maybe in that case. We marry. "

"But you're only a boy. "

"Don't worry about me. You'll find out how much of a boy I am. "

He seemed of a sudden to open up a new world to her, and she realizedthat she had never really lived before. This man represented somethingbigger and stronger than ever her husband had dreamed of. In his youngway he was terrible, irresistible. 

"Well, in three months then, " she whispered, while he rocked her cozilyin his arms. 

Chapter IX

Cowperwood started in the note brokerage business with a small officeat No. 64 South Third Street, where he very soon had the pleasure ofdiscovering that his former excellent business connections rememberedhim. He would go to one house, where he suspected ready money might bedesirable, and offer to negotiate their notes or any paper they mightissue bearing six per cent. Interest for a commission and then he wouldsell the paper for a small commission to some one who would welcome asecure investment. Sometimes his father, sometimes other people, helpedhim with suggestions as to when and how. Between the two ends he mightmake four and five per cent. On the total transaction. In the first yearhe cleared six thousand dollars over and above all expenses. That wasn'tmuch, but he was augmenting it in another way which he believed wouldbring great profit in the future. 

Before the first street-car line, which was a shambling affair, had beenlaid on Front Street, the streets of Philadelphia had been crowdedwith hundreds of springless omnibuses rattling over rough, hard, cobblestones. Now, thanks to the idea of John Stephenson, in New York, the double rail track idea had come, and besides the line on Fifth andSixth Streets (the cars running out one street and back on another)which had paid splendidly from the start, there were many other linesproposed or under way. The city was as eager to see street-carsreplace omnibuses as it was to see railroads replace canals. Therewas opposition, of course. There always is in such cases. The cry ofprobable monopoly was raised. Disgruntled and defeated omnibus ownersand drivers groaned aloud. 

Cowperwood had implicit faith in the future of the street railway. Insupport of this belief he risked all he could spare on new issues ofstock shares in new companies. He wanted to be on the inside whereverpossible, always, though this was a little difficult in the matter ofthe street-railways, he having been so young when they started and nothaving yet arranged his financial connections to make them count formuch. The Fifth and Sixth Street line, which had been but recentlystarted, was paying six hundred dollars a day. A project for a WestPhiladelphia line (Walnut and Chestnut) was on foot, as were lines tooccupy Second and Third Streets, Race and Vine, Spruce and Pine, Greenand Coates, Tenth and Eleventh, and so forth. They were engineered andbacked by some powerful capitalists who had influence with the Statelegislature and could, in spite of great public protest, obtainfranchises. Charges of corruption were in the air. It was argued thatthe streets were valuable, and that the companies should pay a road taxof a thousand dollars a mile. Somehow, however, these splendid grantswere gotten through, and the public, hearing of the Fifth and SixthStreet line profits, was eager to invest. Cowperwood was one of these, and when the Second and Third Street line was engineered, he invested inthat and in the Walnut and Chestnut Street line also. He began to havevague dreams of controlling a line himself some day, but as yet he didnot see exactly how it was to be done, since his business was far frombeing a bonanza. 

In the midst of this early work he married Mrs. Semple. There was novast to-do about it, as he did not want any and his bride-to-be wasnervous, fearsome of public opinion. His family did not entirelyapprove. She was too old, his mother and father thought, and then Frank, with his prospects, could have done much better. His sister Anna fanciedthat Mrs. Semple was designing, which was, of course, not true. Hisbrothers, Joseph and Edward, were interested, but not certain as to whatthey actually thought, since Mrs. Semple was good-looking and had somemoney. 

It was a warm October day when he and Lillian went to the altar, in theFirst Presbyterian Church of Callowhill Street. His bride, Frank wassatisfied, looked exquisite in a trailing gown of cream lace--a creationthat had cost months of labor. His parents, Mrs. Seneca Davis, theWiggin family, brothers and sisters, and some friends were present. Hewas a little opposed to this idea, but Lillian wanted it. He stoodup straight and correct in black broadcloth for the weddingceremony--because she wished it, but later changed to a smart businesssuit for traveling. He had arranged his affairs for a two weeks' tripto New York and Boston. They took an afternoon train for New York, whichrequired five hours to reach. When they were finally alone in the AstorHouse, New York, after hours of make-believe and public pretense ofindifference, he gathered her in his arms. 

"Oh, it's delicious, " he exclaimed, "to have you all to myself. "

She met his eagerness with that smiling, tantalizing passivity whichhe had so much admired but which this time was tinged strongly with acommunicated desire. He thought he should never have enough of her, herbeautiful face, her lovely arms, her smooth, lymphatic body. They werelike two children, billing and cooing, driving, dining, seeing thesights. He was curious to visit the financial sections of both cities. New York and Boston appealed to him as commercially solid. He wondered, as he observed the former, whether he should ever leave Philadelphia. He was going to be very happy there now, he thought, with Lillian andpossibly a brood of young Cowperwoods. He was going to work hard andmake money. With his means and hers now at his command, he might become, very readily, notably wealthy. 

Chapter X

The home atmosphere which they established when they returned fromtheir honeymoon was a great improvement in taste over that which hadcharacterized the earlier life of Mrs. Cowperwood as Mrs. Semple. Theyhad decided to occupy her house, on North Front Street, for a while atleast. Cowperwood, aggressive in his current artistic mood, had objectedat once after they were engaged to the spirit of the furniture anddecorations, or lack of them, and had suggested that he be allowed tohave it brought more in keeping with his idea of what was appropriate. During the years in which he had been growing into manhood he had comeinstinctively into sound notions of what was artistic and refined. Hehad seen so many homes that were more distinguished and harmonious thanhis own. One could not walk or drive about Philadelphia without seeingand being impressed with the general tendency toward a more cultivatedand selective social life. Many excellent and expensive houses werebeing erected. The front lawn, with some attempt at floral gardening, was achieving local popularity. In the homes of the Tighes, theLeighs, Arthur Rivers, and others, he had noticed art objects of somedistinction--bronzes, marbles, hangings, pictures, clocks, rugs. 

It seemed to him now that his comparatively commonplace house could bemade into something charming and for comparatively little money. Thedining-room for instance which, through two plain windows set in a hatside wall back of the veranda, looked south over a stretch of grass andseveral trees and bushes to a dividing fence where the Semple propertyended and a neighbor's began, could be made so much more attractive. That fence--sharp-pointed, gray palings--could be torn away and a hedgeput in its place. The wall which divided the dining-room from the parlorcould be knocked through and a hanging of some pleasing character put inits place. A bay-window could be built to replace the two present oblongwindows--a bay which would come down to the floor and open out on thelawn via swiveled, diamond-shaped, lead-paned frames. All this shabby, nondescript furniture, collected from heaven knows where--partlyinherited from the Semples and the Wiggins and partly bought--could bethrown out or sold and something better and more harmonious introduced. He knew a young man by the name of Ellsworth, an architect newlygraduated from a local school, with whom he had struck up an interestingfriendship--one of those inexplicable inclinations of temperament. Wilton Ellsworth was an artist in spirit, quiet, meditative, refined. From discussing the quality of a certain building on Chestnut Streetwhich was then being erected, and which Ellsworth pronounced atrocious, they had fallen to discussing art in general, or the lack of it, inAmerica. And it occurred to him that Ellsworth was the man to carry outhis decorative views to a nicety. When he suggested the young man toLillian, she placidly agreed with him and also with his own ideas of howthe house could be revised. 

So while they were gone on their honeymoon Ellsworth began the revisionon an estimated cost of three thousand dollars, including the furniture. It was not completed for nearly three weeks after their return; but whenfinished made a comparatively new house. The dining-room bay hung lowover the grass, as Frank wished, and the windows were diamond-panedand leaded, swiveled on brass rods. The parlor and dining-room wereseparated by sliding doors; but the intention was to hang in thisopening a silk hanging depicting a wedding scene in Normandy. OldEnglish oak was used in the dining-room, an American imitation ofChippendale and Sheraton for the sitting-room and the bedrooms. Therewere a few simple water-colors hung here and there, some bronzes ofHosmer and Powers, a marble venus by Potter, a now forgotten sculptor, and other objects of art--nothing of any distinction. Pleasing, appropriately colored rugs covered the floor. Mrs. Cowperwood wasshocked by the nudity of the Venus which conveyed an atmosphere ofEuropean freedom not common to America; but she said nothing. It was allharmonious and soothing, and she did not feel herself capable to judge. Frank knew about these things so much better than she did. Then witha maid and a man of all work installed, a program of entertaining wasbegun on a small scale. 

Those who recall the early years of their married life can best realizethe subtle changes which this new condition brought to Frank, for, likeall who accept the hymeneal yoke, he was influenced to a certain extentby the things with which he surrounded himself. Primarily, from certaintraits of his character, one would have imagined him called to be acitizen of eminent respectability and worth. He appeared to be an idealhome man. He delighted to return to his wife in the evenings, leavingthe crowded downtown section where traffic clamored and men hurried. Here he could feel that he was well-stationed and physically happy inlife. The thought of the dinner-table with candles upon it (his idea);the thought of Lillian in a trailing gown of pale-blue or green silk--heliked her in those colors; the thought of a large fireplace flaming withsolid lengths of cord-wood, and Lillian snuggling in his arms, grippedhis immature imagination. As has been said before, he cared nothing forbooks, but life, pictures, trees, physical contact--these, in spite ofhis shrewd and already gripping financial calculations, held him. Tolive richly, joyously, fully--his whole nature craved that. 

And Mrs. Cowperwood, in spite of the difference in their years, appearedto be a fit mate for him at this time. She was once awakened, and forthe time being, clinging, responsive, dreamy. His mood and hers was fora baby, and in a little while that happy expectation was whispered tohim by her. She had half fancied that her previous barrenness was due toherself, and was rather surprised and delighted at the proof that itwas not so. It opened new possibilities--a seemingly glorious future ofwhich she was not afraid. He liked it, the idea of self-duplication. Itwas almost acquisitive, this thought. For days and weeks and months andyears, at least the first four or five, he took a keen satisfaction incoming home evenings, strolling about the yard, driving with his wife, having friends in to dinner, talking over with her in an explanatoryway the things he intended to do. She did not understand his financialabstrusities, and he did not trouble to make them clear. 

But love, her pretty body, her lips, her quiet manner--the lure ofall these combined, and his two children, when they came--two in fouryears--held him. He would dandle Frank, Jr. , who was the first toarrive, on his knee, looking at his chubby feet, his kindling eyes, hisalmost formless yet bud-like mouth, and wonder at the process by whichchildren came into the world. There was so much to think of in thisconnection--the spermatozoic beginning, the strange period of gestationin women, the danger of disease and delivery. He had gone through areal period of strain when Frank, Jr. , was born, for Mrs. Cowperwoodwas frightened. He feared for the beauty of her body--troubled over thedanger of losing her; and he actually endured his first worry when hestood outside the door the day the child came. Not much--he was tooself-sufficient, too resourceful; and yet he worried, conjuring upthoughts of death and the end of their present state. Then word came, after certain piercing, harrowing cries, that all was well, and hewas permitted to look at the new arrival. The experience broadened hisconception of things, made him more solid in his judgment of life. Thatold conviction of tragedy underlying the surface of things, like woodunder its veneer, was emphasized. Little Frank, and later Lillian, blue-eyed and golden-haired, touched his imagination for a while. Therewas a good deal to this home idea, after all. That was the way life wasorganized, and properly so--its cornerstone was the home. 

It would be impossible to indicate fully how subtle were the materialchanges which these years involved--changes so gradual that they were, like the lap of soft waters, unnoticeable. Considerable--a great deal, considering how little he had to begin with--wealth was added inthe next five years. He came, in his financial world, to know fairlyintimately, as commercial relationships go, some of the subtlestcharacters of the steadily enlarging financial world. In his days atTighe's and on the exchange, many curious figures had been pointedout to him--State and city officials of one grade and another who were"making something out of politics, " and some national figures who camefrom Washington to Philadelphia at times to see Drexel & Co. , Clark &Co. , and even Tighe & Co. These men, as he learned, had tips or advancenews of legislative or economic changes which were sure to affectcertain stocks or trade opportunities. A young clerk had once pulled hissleeve at Tighe's. 

"See that man going in to see Tighe?"

"Yes. "

"That's Murtagh, the city treasurer. Say, he don't do anything but playa fine game. All that money to invest, and he don't have to account foranything except the principal. The interest goes to him. "

Cowperwood understood. All these city and State officials speculated. They had a habit of depositing city and State funds with certain bankersand brokers as authorized agents or designated State depositories. Thebanks paid no interest--save to the officials personally. They loanedit to certain brokers on the officials' secret order, and the latterinvested it in "sure winners. " The bankers got the free use of the moneya part of the time, the brokers another part: the officials made money, and the brokers received a fat commission. There was a political ringin Philadelphia in which the mayor, certain members of the council, thetreasurer, the chief of police, the commissioner of public works, andothers shared. It was a case generally of "You scratch my back and I'llscratch yours. " Cowperwood thought it rather shabby work at first, but many men were rapidly getting rich and no one seemed to care. Thenewspapers were always talking about civic patriotism and pride butnever a word about these things. And the men who did them were powerfuland respected. 

There were many houses, a constantly widening circle, that found him avery trustworthy agent in disposing of note issues or note payment. Heseemed to know so quickly where to go to get the money. From the firsthe made it a principle to keep twenty thousand dollars in cash on handin order to be able to take up a proposition instantly and withoutdiscussion. So, often he was able to say, "Why, certainly, I can dothat, " when otherwise, on the face of things, he would not have beenable to do so. He was asked if he would not handle certain stocktransactions on 'change. He had no seat, and he intended not to takeany at first; but now he changed his mind, and bought one, not onlyin Philadelphia, but in New York also. A certain Joseph Zimmerman, adry-goods man for whom he had handled various note issues, suggestedthat he undertake operating in street-railway shares for him, and thiswas the beginning of his return to the floor. 

In the meanwhile his family life was changing--growing, one might havesaid, finer and more secure. Mrs. Cowperwood had, for instance, beencompelled from time to time to make a subtle readjustment of herpersonal relationship with people, as he had with his. When Mr. Semple was alive she had been socially connected with tradesmenprincipally--retailers and small wholesalers--a very few. Some of thewomen of her own church, the First Presbyterian, were friendly withher. There had been church teas and sociables which she and Mr. Sempleattended, and dull visits to his relatives and hers. The Cowperwoods, the Watermans, and a few families of that caliber, had been the notableexceptions. Now all this was changed. Young Cowperwood did not carevery much for her relatives, and the Semples had been alienated by hersecond, and to them outrageous, marriage. His own family was closelyinterested by ties of affection and mutual prosperity, but, better thanthis, he was drawing to himself some really significant personalities. He brought home with him, socially--not to talk business, for hedisliked that idea--bankers, investors, customers and prospectivecustomers. Out on the Schuylkill, the Wissahickon, and elsewhere, werepopular dining places where one could drive on Sunday. He and Mrs. Cowperwood frequently drove out to Mrs. Seneca Davis's, to JudgeKitchen's, to the home of Andrew Sharpless, a lawyer whom he knew, tothe home of Harper Steger, his own lawyer, and others. Cowperwood hadthe gift of geniality. None of these men or women suspected the depth ofhis nature--he was thinking, thinking, thinking, but enjoyed life as hewent. 

One of his earliest and most genuine leanings was toward paintings. Headmired nature, but somehow, without knowing why, he fancied one couldbest grasp it through the personality of some interpreter, just as wegain our ideas of law and politics through individuals. Mrs. Cowperwoodcared not a whit one way or another, but she accompanied him toexhibitions, thinking all the while that Frank was a little peculiar. He tried, because he loved her, to interest her in these thingsintelligently, but while she pretended slightly, she could not reallysee or care, and it was very plain that she could not. 

The children took up a great deal of her time. However, Cowperwood wasnot troubled about this. It struck him as delightful and exceedinglyworth while that she should be so devoted. At the same time, herlethargic manner, vague smile and her sometimes seeming indifference, which sprang largely from a sense of absolute security, attracted himalso. She was so different from him! She took her second marriage quiteas she had taken her first--a solemn fact which contained no possibilityof mental alteration. As for himself, however, he was bustling about ina world which, financially at least, seemed all alteration--there wereso many sudden and almost unheard-of changes. He began to look at herat times, with a speculative eye--not very critically, for he likedher--but with an attempt to weigh her personality. He had known herfive years and more now. What did he know about her? The vigor ofyouth--those first years--had made up for so many things, but now thathe had her safely. . . 

There came in this period the slow approach, and finally thedeclaration, of war between the North and the South, attended with somuch excitement that almost all current minds were notably colored byit. It was terrific. Then came meetings, public and stirring, and riots;the incident of John Brown's body; the arrival of Lincoln, the greatcommoner, on his way from Springfield, Illinois, to Washington viaPhiladelphia, to take the oath of office; the battle of Bull Run; thebattle of Vicksburg; the battle of Gettysburg, and so on. Cowperwood wasonly twenty-five at the time, a cool, determined youth, who thought theslave agitation might be well founded in human rights--no doubt was--butexceedingly dangerous to trade. He hoped the North would win; but itmight go hard with him personally and other financiers. He did notcare to fight. That seemed silly for the individual man to do. Othersmight--there were many poor, thin-minded, half-baked creatures who wouldput themselves up to be shot; but they were only fit to be commanded orshot down. As for him, his life was sacred to himself and his family andhis personal interests. He recalled seeing, one day, in one of the quietside streets, as the working-men were coming home from their work, asmall enlisting squad of soldiers in blue marching enthusiasticallyalong, the Union flag flying, the drummers drumming, the fifes blowing, the idea being, of course, to so impress the hitherto indifferent orwavering citizen, to exalt him to such a pitch, that he would losehis sense of proportion, of self-interest, and, forgetting all--wife, parents, home, and children--and seeing only the great need of thecountry, fall in behind and enlist. He saw one workingman swinging hispail, and evidently not contemplating any such denouement to his day'swork, pause, listen as the squad approached, hesitate as it drew close, and as it passed, with a peculiar look of uncertainty or wonder in hiseyes, fall in behind and march solemnly away to the enlisting quarters. What was it that had caught this man, Frank asked himself. How was heovercome so easily? He had not intended to go. His face was streakedwith the grease and dirt of his work--he looked like a foundry man ormachinist, say twenty-five years of age. Frank watched the little squaddisappear at the end of the street round the corner under the trees. 

This current war-spirit was strange. The people seemed to him to wantto hear nothing but the sound of the drum and fife, to see nothing buttroops, of which there were thousands now passing through on theirway to the front, carrying cold steel in the shape of guns at theirshoulders, to hear of war and the rumors of war. It was a thrillingsentiment, no doubt, great but unprofitable. It meant self-sacrifice, and he could not see that. If he went he might be shot, and what wouldhis noble emotion amount to then? He would rather make money, regulatecurrent political, social and financial affairs. The poor fool whofell in behind the enlisting squad--no, not fool, he would not call himthat--the poor overwrought working-man--well, Heaven pity him! Heavenpity all of them! They really did not know what they were doing. 

One day he saw Lincoln--a tall, shambling man, long, bony, gawky, buttremendously impressive. It was a raw, slushy morning of a late Februaryday, and the great war President was just through with his solemnpronunciamento in regard to the bonds that might have been strained butmust not be broken. As he issued from the doorway of Independence Hall, that famous birthplace of liberty, his face was set in a sad, meditativecalm. Cowperwood looked at him fixedly as he issued from the doorwaysurrounded by chiefs of staff, local dignitaries, detectives, and thecurious, sympathetic faces of the public. As he studied the strangelyrough-hewn countenance a sense of the great worth and dignity of the mancame over him. 

"A real man, that, " he thought; "a wonderful temperament. " His everygesture came upon him with great force. He watched him enter hiscarriage, thinking "So that is the railsplitter, the country lawyer. Well, fate has picked a great man for this crisis. "

For days the face of Lincoln haunted him, and very often during thewar his mind reverted to that singular figure. It seemed to himunquestionable that fortuitously he had been permitted to look upon oneof the world's really great men. War and statesmanship were not for him;but he knew how important those things were--at times. 

Chapter XI

It was while the war was on, and after it was perfectly plain that itwas not to be of a few days' duration, that Cowperwood's first greatfinancial opportunity came to him. There was a strong demand for moneyat the time on the part of the nation, the State, and the city. In July, 1861, Congress had authorized a loan of fifty million dollars, to besecured by twenty-year bonds with interest not to exceed seven percent. , and the State authorized a loan of three millions on much thesame security, the first being handled by financiers of Boston, NewYork, and Philadelphia, the second by Philadelphia financiers alone. Cowperwood had no hand in this. He was not big enough. He read in thepapers of gatherings of men whom he knew personally or by reputation, "to consider the best way to aid the nation or the State"; but he wasnot included. And yet his soul yearned to be of them. He noticedhow often a rich man's word sufficed--no money, no certificates, nocollateral, no anything--just his word. If Drexel & Co. , or Jay Cooke &Co. , or Gould & Fiske were rumored to be behind anything, how secureit was! Jay Cooke, a young man in Philadelphia, had made a great striketaking this State loan in company with Drexel & Co. , and selling it atpar. The general opinion was that it ought to be and could only be soldat ninety. Cooke did not believe this. He believed that State prideand State patriotism would warrant offering the loan to small banksand private citizens, and that they would subscribe it fully and more. Events justified Cooke magnificently, and his public reputation wasassured. Cowperwood wished he could make some such strike; but he wastoo practical to worry over anything save the facts and conditions thatwere before him. 

His chance came about six months later, when it was found that the Statewould have to have much more money. Its quota of troops would have tobe equipped and paid. There were measures of defense to be taken, thetreasury to be replenished. A call for a loan of twenty-three milliondollars was finally authorized by the legislature and issued. There wasgreat talk in the street as to who was to handle it--Drexel & Co. AndJay Cooke & Co. , of course. 

Cowperwood pondered over this. If he could handle a fraction of thisgreat loan now--he could not possibly handle the whole of it, for hehad not the necessary connections--he could add considerably to hisreputation as a broker while making a tidy sum. How much could hehandle? That was the question. Who would take portions of it? Hisfather's bank? Probably. Waterman & Co. ? A little. Judge Kitchen? Asmall fraction. The Mills-David Company? Yes. He thought of differentindividuals and concerns who, for one reason and another--personalfriendship, good-nature, gratitude for past favors, and so on--wouldtake a percentage of the seven-percent. Bonds through him. He totaled uphis possibilities, and discovered that in all likelihood, with a littlepreliminary missionary work, he could dispose of one million dollars ifpersonal influence, through local political figures, could bring thismuch of the loan his way. 

One man in particular had grown strong in his estimation as having somesubtle political connection not visible on the surface, and thiswas Edward Malia Butler. Butler was a contractor, undertaking theconstruction of sewers, water-mains, foundations for buildings, street-paving, and the like. In the early days, long before Cowperwoodhad known him, he had been a garbage-contractor on his own account. Thecity at that time had no extended street-cleaning service, particularlyin its outlying sections and some of the older, poorer regions. EdwardButler, then a poor young Irishman, had begun by collecting and haulingaway the garbage free of charge, and feeding it to his pigs and cattle. Later he discovered that some people were willing to pay a small chargefor this service. Then a local political character, a councilman friendof his--they were both Catholics--saw a new point in the whole thing. Butler could be made official garbage-collector. The council couldvote an annual appropriation for this service. Butler could employ morewagons than he did now--dozens of them, scores. Not only that, but noother garbage-collector would be allowed. There were others, but theofficial contract awarded him would also, officially, be the end ofthe life of any and every disturbing rival. A certain amount of theprofitable proceeds would have to be set aside to assuage the feelingsof those who were not contractors. Funds would have to be loaned atelection time to certain individuals and organizations--but no matter. The amount would be small. So Butler and Patrick Gavin Comiskey, thecouncilman (the latter silently) entered into business relations. Butlergave up driving a wagon himself. He hired a young man, a smart Irish boyof his neighborhood, Jimmy Sheehan, to be his assistant, superintendent, stableman, bookkeeper, and what not. Since he soon began to make betweenfour and five thousand a year, where before he made two thousand, hemoved into a brick house in an outlying section of the south side, andsent his children to school. Mrs. Butler gave up making soap and feedingpigs. And since then times had been exceedingly good with Edward Butler. 

He could neither read nor write at first; but now he knew how, ofcourse. He had learned from association with Mr. Comiskey that therewere other forms of contracting--sewers, water-mains, gas-mains, street-paving, and the like. Who better than Edward Butler to do it?He knew the councilmen, many of them. Het met them in the back roomsof saloons, on Sundays and Saturdays at political picnics, at electioncouncils and conferences, for as a beneficiary of the city's largess hewas expected to contribute not only money, but advice. Curiously hehad developed a strange political wisdom. He knew a successful man or acoming man when he saw one. So many of his bookkeepers, superintendents, time-keepers had graduated into councilmen and state legislators. Hisnominees--suggested to political conferences--were so often known tomake good. First he came to have influence in his councilman's ward, then in his legislative district, then in the city councils ofhis party--Whig, of course--and then he was supposed to have anorganization. 

Mysterious forces worked for him in council. He was awarded significantcontracts, and he always bid. The garbage business was now a thing ofthe past. His eldest boy, Owen, was a member of the State legislatureand a partner in his business affairs. His second son, Callum, was aclerk in the city water department and an assistant to his father also. Aileen, his eldest daughter, fifteen years of age, was still in St. Agatha's, a convent school in Germantown. Norah, his second daughter andyoungest child, thirteen years old, was in attendance at a local privateschool conducted by a Catholic sisterhood. The Butler family hadmoved away from South Philadelphia into Girard Avenue, near the twelvehundreds, where a new and rather interesting social life was beginning. They were not of it, but Edward Butler, contractor, now fifty-five yearsof age, worth, say, five hundred thousand dollars, had many politicaland financial friends. No longer a "rough neck, " but a solid, reddish-faced man, slightly tanned, with broad shoulders and a solidchest, gray eyes, gray hair, a typically Irish face made wise and calmand undecipherable by much experience. His big hands and feet indicateda day when he had not worn the best English cloth suits and tannedleather, but his presence was not in any way offensive--rather theother way about. Though still possessed of a brogue, he was soft-spoken, winning, and persuasive. 

He had been one of the first to become interested in the development ofthe street-car system and had come to the conclusion, as had Cowperwoodand many others, that it was going to be a great thing. The moneyreturns on the stocks or shares he had been induced to buy had beenample evidence of that, He had dealt through one broker and another, having failed to get in on the original corporate organizations. He wanted to pick up such stock as he could in one organization andanother, for he believed they all had a future, and most of all hewanted to get control of a line or two. In connection with this idea hewas looking for some reliable young man, honest and capable, whowould work under his direction and do what he said. Then he learned ofCowperwood, and one day sent for him and asked him to call at his house. 

Cowperwood responded quickly, for he knew of Butler, his rise, hisconnections, his force. He called at the house as directed, one cold, crisp February morning. He remembered the appearance of the streetafterward--broad, brick-paved sidewalks, macadamized roadway, powderedover with a light snow and set with young, leafless, scrubby treesand lamp-posts. Butler's house was not new--he had bought and repairedit--but it was not an unsatisfactory specimen of the architecture of thetime. It was fifty feet wide, four stories tall, of graystone and withfour wide, white stone steps leading up to the door. The window arches, framed in white, had U-shaped keystones. There were curtains of lace anda glimpse of red plush through the windows, which gleamed warm againstthe cold and snow outside. A trim Irish maid came to the door and hegave her his card and was invited into the house. 

"Is Mr. Butler home?"

"I'm not sure, sir. I'll find out. He may have gone out. "

In a little while he was asked to come upstairs, where he found Butlerin a somewhat commercial-looking room. It had a desk, an office chair, some leather furnishings, and a bookcase, but no completeness orsymmetry as either an office or a living room. There were severalpictures on the wall--an impossible oil painting, for one thing, darkand gloomy; a canal and barge scene in pink and nile green for another;some daguerreotypes of relatives and friends which were not half bad. Cowperwood noticed one of two girls, one with reddish-gold hair, anotherwith what appeared to be silky brown. The beautiful silver effect of thedaguerreotype had been tinted. They were pretty girls, healthy, smiling, Celtic, their heads close together, their eyes looking straight outat you. He admired them casually, and fancied they must be Butler'sdaughters. 

"Mr. Cowperwood?" inquired Butler, uttering the name fully with apeculiar accent on the vowels. (He was a slow-moving man, solemn anddeliberate. ) Cowperwood noticed that his body was hale and strong likeseasoned hickory, tanned by wind and rain. The flesh of his cheeks waspulled taut and there was nothing soft or flabby about him. 

"I'm that man. "

"I have a little matter of stocks to talk over with you" ("matter"almost sounded like "mather"), "and I thought you'd better come hererather than that I should come down to your office. We can be moreprivate-like, and, besides, I'm not as young as I used to be. "

He allowed a semi-twinkle to rest in his eye as he looked his visitorover. 

Cowperwood smiled. 

"Well, I hope I can be of service to you, " he said, genially. 

"I happen to be interested just at present in pickin' up certainstreet-railway stocks on 'change. I'll tell you about them later. Won'tyou have somethin' to drink? It's a cold morning. "

"No, thanks; I never drink. "

"Never? That's a hard word when it comes to whisky. Well, no matter. It's a good rule. My boys don't touch anything, and I'm glad of it. As Isay, I'm interested in pickin' up a few stocks on 'change; but, to tellyou the truth, I'm more interested in findin' some clever young fellylike yourself through whom I can work. One thing leads to another, youknow, in this world. " And he looked at his visitor non-committally, andyet with a genial show of interest. 

"Quite so, " replied Cowperwood, with a friendly gleam in return. 

"Well, " Butler meditated, half to himself, half to Cowperwood, "thereare a number of things that a bright young man could do for me in thestreet if he were so minded. I have two bright boys of my own, but Idon't want them to become stock-gamblers, and I don't know thatthey would or could if I wanted them to. But this isn't a matter ofstock-gambling. I'm pretty busy as it is, and, as I said awhile ago, I'mgetting along. I'm not as light on my toes as I once was. But if I hadthe right sort of a young man--I've been looking into your record, by the way, never fear--he might handle a number of littlethings--investments and loans--which might bring us each a littlesomethin'. Sometimes the young men around town ask advice of me in oneway and another--they have a little somethin' to invest, and so--"

He paused and looked tantalizingly out of the window, knowing fullwell Cowperwood was greatly interested, and that this talk of politicalinfluence and connections could only whet his appetite. Butler wantedhim to see clearly that fidelity was the point in this case--fidelity, tact, subtlety, and concealment. 

"Well, if you have been looking into my record, " observed Cowperwood, with his own elusive smile, leaving the thought suspended. 

Butler felt the force of the temperament and the argument. He likedthe young man's poise and balance. A number of people had spoken ofCowperwood to him. (It was now Cowperwood & Co. The company was fictionpurely. ) He asked him something about the street; how the market wasrunning; what he knew about street-railways. Finally he outlined hisplan of buying all he could of the stock of two given lines--the Ninthand Tenth and the Fifteenth and Sixteenth--without attracting anyattention, if possible. It was to be done slowly, part on 'change, partfrom individual holders. He did not tell him that there was a certainamount of legislative pressure he hoped to bring to bear to get himfranchises for extensions in the regions beyond where the lines nowended, in order that when the time came for them to extend theirfacilities they would have to see him or his sons, who might be largeminority stockholders in these very concerns. It was a far-sighted plan, and meant that the lines would eventually drop into his or his sons'basket. 

"I'll be delighted to work with you, Mr. Butler, in any way that youmay suggest, " observed Cowperwood. "I can't say that I have so much of abusiness as yet--merely prospects. But my connections are good. I amnow a member of the New York and Philadelphia exchanges. Those who havedealt with me seem to like the results I get. "

"I know a little something about your work already, " reiterated Butler, wisely. 

"Very well, then; whenever you have a commission you can call atmy office, or write, or I will call here. I will give you my secretoperating code, so that anything you say will be strictly confidential. "

"Well, we'll not say anything more now. In a few days I'll havesomethin' for you. When I do, you can draw on my bank for what you need, up to a certain amount. " He got up and looked out into the street, andCowperwood also arose. 

"It's a fine day now, isn't it?"

"It surely is. "

"Well, we'll get to know each other better, I'm sure. "

He held out his hand. 

"I hope so. "

Cowperwood went out, Butler accompanying him to the door. As he did so ayoung girl bounded in from the street, red-cheeked, blue-eyed, wearing ascarlet cape with the peaked hood thrown over her red-gold hair. 

"Oh, daddy, I almost knocked you down. "

She gave her father, and incidentally Cowperwood, a gleaming, radiant, inclusive smile. Her teeth were bright and small, and her lips bud-red. 

"You're home early. I thought you were going to stay all day?"

"I was, but I changed my mind. "

She passed on in, swinging her arms. 

"Yes, well--" Butler continued, when she had gone. "Then well leave itfor a day or two. Good day. "

"Good day. "

Cowperwood, warm with this enhancing of his financial prospects, wentdown the steps; but incidentally he spared a passing thought for the gayspirit of youth that had manifested itself in this red-cheeked maiden. What a bright, healthy, bounding girl! Her voice had the subtle, vigorous ring of fifteen or sixteen. She was all vitality. What a finecatch for some young fellow some day, and her father would make himrich, no doubt, or help to. 

Chapter XII

It was to Edward Malia Butler that Cowperwood turned now, some nineteenmonths later when he was thinking of the influence that might bring himan award of a portion of the State issue of bonds. Butler could probablybe interested to take some of them himself, or could help him placesome. He had come to like Cowperwood very much and was now being carriedon the latter's books as a prospective purchaser of large blocks ofstocks. And Cowperwood liked this great solid Irishman. He liked hishistory. He had met Mrs. Butler, a rather fat and phlegmatic Irish womanwith a world of hard sense who cared nothing at all for show and whostill liked to go into the kitchen and superintend the cooking. He hadmet Owen and Callum Butler, the boys, and Aileen and Norah, the girls. Aileen was the one who had bounded up the steps the first day he hadcalled at the Butler house several seasons before. 

There was a cozy grate-fire burning in Butler's improvised privateoffice when Cowperwood called. Spring was coming on, but the eveningswere cool. The older man invited Cowperwood to make himself comfortablein one of the large leather chairs before the fire and then proceeded tolisten to his recital of what he hoped to accomplish. 

"Well, now, that isn't so easy, " he commented at the end. "You ought toknow more about that than I do. I'm not a financier, as you well know. "And he grinned apologetically. 

"It's a matter of influence, " went on Cowperwood. "And favoritism. That I know. Drexel & Company and Cooke & Company have connections atHarrisburg. They have men of their own looking after their interests. The attorney-general and the State treasurer are hand in glove withthem. Even if I put in a bid, and can demonstrate that I can handle theloan, it won't help me to get it. Other people have done that. I have tohave friends--influence. You know how it is. "

"Them things, " Butler said, "is easy enough if you know the rightparties to approach. Now there's Jimmy Oliver--he ought to knowsomething about that. " Jimmy Oliver was the whilom district attorneyserving at this time, and incidentally free adviser to Mr. Butler inmany ways. He was also, accidentally, a warm personal friend of theState treasurer. 

"How much of the loan do you want?"

"Five million. "

"Five million!" Butler sat up. "Man, what are you talking about? That'sa good deal of money. Where are you going to sell all that?"

"I want to bid for five million, " assuaged Cowperwood, softly. "I onlywant one million but I want the prestige of putting in a bona fide bidfor five million. It will do me good on the street. "

Butler sank back somewhat relieved. 

"Five million! Prestige! You want one million. Well, now, that'sdifferent. That's not such a bad idea. We ought to be able to get that. "

He rubbed his chin some more and stared into the fire. 

And Cowperwood felt confident when he left the house that evening thatButler would not fail him but would set the wheels working. Therefore, he was not surprised, and knew exactly what it meant, when a few dayslater he was introduced to City Treasurer Julian Bode, who promised tointroduce him to State Treasurer Van Nostrand and to see that his claimsto consideration were put before the people. "Of course, you know, "he said to Cowperwood, in the presence of Butler, for it was at thelatter's home that the conference took place, "this banking crowd isvery powerful. You know who they are. They don't want any interferencein this bond issue business. I was talking to Terrence Relihan, whorepresents them up there"--meaning Harrisburg, the State capital--"andhe says they won't stand for it at all. You may have trouble right herein Philadelphia after you get it--they're pretty powerful, you know. Areyou sure just where you can place it?"

"Yes, I'm sure, " replied Cowperwood. 

"Well, the best thing in my judgment is not to say anything at all. Justput in your bid. Van Nostrand, with the governor's approval, will makethe award. We can fix the governor, I think. After you get it they maytalk to you personally, but that's your business. "

Cowperwood smiled his inscrutable smile. There were so many ins and outsto this financial life. It was an endless network of underground holes, along which all sorts of influences were moving. A little wit, a littlenimbleness, a little luck-time and opportunity--these sometimes availed. Here he was, through his ambition to get on, and nothing else, cominginto contact with the State treasurer and the governor. They weregoing to consider his case personally, because he demanded that it beconsidered--nothing more. Others more influential than himself hadquite as much right to a share, but they didn't take it. Nerve, ideas, aggressiveness, how these counted when one had luck!

He went away thinking how surprised Drexel & Co. And Cooke & Co. Wouldbe to see him appearing in the field as a competitor. In his home, in alittle room on the second floor next his bedroom, which he had fixed upas an office with a desk, a safe, and a leather chair, he consulted hisresources. There were so many things to think of. He went over again thelist of people whom he had seen and whom he could count on tosubscribe, and in so far as that was concerned--the award of one milliondollars--he was safe. He figured to make two per cent. On the totaltransaction, or twenty thousand dollars. If he did he was going to buya house out on Girard Avenue beyond the Butlers', or, better yet, buy apiece of ground and erect one; mortgaging house and property so to do. His father was prospering nicely. He might want to build a house next tohim, and they could live side by side. His own business, aside from thisdeal, would yield him ten thousand dollars this year. His street-carinvestments, aggregating fifty thousand, were paying six per cent. Hiswife's property, represented by this house, some government bonds, andsome real estate in West Philadelphia amounted to forty thousand more. Between them they were rich; but he expected to be much richer. All heneeded now was to keep cool. If he succeeded in this bond-issue matter, he could do it again and on a larger scale. There would be more issues. He turned out the light after a while and went into his wife's boudoir, where she was sleeping. The nurse and the children were in a roombeyond. 

"Well, Lillian, " he observed, when she awoke and turned over toward him, "I think I have that bond matter that I was telling you about arrangedat last. I think I'll get a million of it, anyhow. That'll mean twentythousand. If I do we'll build out on Girard Avenue. That's going to bethe street. The college is making that neighborhood. "

"That'll be fine, won't it, Frank!" she observed, and rubbed his arm ashe sat on the side of the bed. 

Her remark was vaguely speculative. 

"We'll have to show the Butlers some attention from now on. He's beenvery nice to me and he's going to be useful--I can see that. He asked meto bring you over some time. We must go. Be nice to his wife. He can doa lot for me if he wants to. He has two daughters, too. We'll have tohave them over here. "

"I'll have them to dinner sometime, " she agreed cheerfully andhelpfully, "and I'll stop and take Mrs. Butler driving if she'll go, orshe can take me. "

She had already learned that the Butlers were rather showy--the youngergeneration--that they were sensitive as to their lineage, and that moneyin their estimation was supposed to make up for any deficiency in anyother respect. "Butler himself is a very presentable man, " Cowperwoodhad once remarked to her, "but Mrs. Butler--well, she's all right, but she's a little commonplace. She's a fine woman, though, I think, good-natured and good-hearted. " He cautioned her not to overlook Aileenand Norah, because the Butlers, mother and father, were very proud ofthem. 

Mrs. Cowperwood at this time was thirty-two years old; Cowperwoodtwenty-seven. The birth and care of two children had made somedifference in her looks. She was no longer as softly pleasing, moreangular. Her face was hollow-cheeked, like so many of Rossetti'sand Burne-Jones's women. Her health was really not as good as it hadbeen--the care of two children and a late undiagnosed tendency towardgastritis having reduced her. In short she was a little run downnervously and suffered from fits of depression. Cowperwood had noticedthis. He tried to be gentle and considerate, but he was too much of autilitarian and practical-minded observer not to realize that he waslikely to have a sickly wife on his hands later. Sympathy and affectionwere great things, but desire and charm must endure or one was compelledto be sadly conscious of their loss. So often now he saw young girls whowere quite in his mood, and who were exceedingly robust and joyous. Itwas fine, advisable, practical, to adhere to the virtues as laid downin the current social lexicon, but if you had a sickly wife--And anyhow, was a man entitled to only one wife? Must he never look at anotherwoman? Supposing he found some one? He pondered those things betweenhours of labor, and concluded that it did not make so much difference. If a man could, and not be exposed, it was all right. He had to becareful, though. Tonight, as he sat on the side of his wife's bed, hewas thinking somewhat of this, for he had seen Aileen Butler again, playing and singing at her piano as he passed the parlor door. She waslike a bright bird radiating health and enthusiasm--a reminder of youthin general. 

"It's a strange world, " he thought; but his thoughts were his own, andhe didn't propose to tell any one about them. 

The bond issue, when it came, was a curious compromise; for, although itnetted him his twenty thousand dollars and more and served tointroduce him to the financial notice of Philadelphia and the State ofPennsylvania, it did not permit him to manipulate the subscriptions ashe had planned. The State treasurer was seen by him at the office of alocal lawyer of great repute, where he worked when in the city. He wasgracious to Cowperwood, because he had to be. He explained to him justhow things were regulated at Harrisburg. The big financiers were lookedto for campaign funds. They were represented by henchmen in the Stateassembly and senate. The governor and the treasurer were foot-free;but there were other influences--prestige, friendship, social power, political ambitions, etc. The big men might constitute a closecorporation, which in itself was unfair; but, after all, they were thelegitimate sponsors for big money loans of this kind. The State had tokeep on good terms with them, especially in times like these. Seeingthat Mr. Cowperwood was so well able to dispose of the million heexpected to get, it would be perfectly all right to award it to him; butVan Nostrand had a counter-proposition to make. Would Cowperwood, if thefinancial crowd now handling the matter so desired, turn over his awardto them for a consideration--a sum equal to what he expected to make--inthe event the award was made to him? Certain financiers desired this. Itwas dangerous to oppose them. They were perfectly willing he shouldput in a bid for five million and get the prestige of that; to have himawarded one million and get the prestige of that was well enough also, but they desired to handle the twenty-three million dollars in anunbroken lot. It looked better. He need not be advertised as havingwithdrawn. They would be content to have him achieve the glory of havingdone what he started out to do. Just the same the example was bad. Others might wish to imitate him. If it were known in the streetprivately that he had been coerced, for a consideration, into giving up, others would be deterred from imitating him in the future. Besides, ifhe refused, they could cause him trouble. His loans might be called. Various banks might not be so friendly in the future. His constituentsmight be warned against him in one way or another. 

Cowperwood saw the point. He acquiesced. It was something to havebrought so many high and mighties to their knees. So they knew of him!They were quite well aware of him! Well and good. He would take theaward and twenty thousand or thereabouts and withdraw. The Statetreasurer was delighted. It solved a ticklish proposition for him. 

"I'm glad to have seen you, " he said. "I'm glad we've met. I'll dropin and talk with you some time when I'm down this way. We'll have lunchtogether. "

The State treasurer, for some odd reason, felt that Mr. Cowperwood wasa man who could make him some money. His eye was so keen; his expressionwas so alert, and yet so subtle. He told the governor and some other ofhis associates about him. 

So the award was finally made; Cowperwood, after some privatenegotiations in which he met the officers of Drexel & Co. , was paid histwenty thousand dollars and turned his share of the award over to them. New faces showed up in his office now from time to time--among them thatof Van Nostrand and one Terrence Relihan, a representative of some otherpolitical forces at Harrisburg. He was introduced to the governor oneday at lunch. His name was mentioned in the papers, and his prestigegrew rapidly. 

Immediately he began working on plans with young Ellsworth for his newhouse. He was going to build something exceptional this time, he toldLillian. They were going to have to do some entertaining--entertainingon a larger scale than ever. North Front Street was becoming too tame. He put the house up for sale, consulted with his father and found thathe also was willing to move. The son's prosperity had redounded to thecredit of the father. The directors of the bank were becoming much morefriendly to the old man. Next year President Kugel was going to retire. Because of his son's noted coup, as well as his long service, he wasgoing to be made president. Frank was a large borrower from his father'sbank. By the same token he was a large depositor. His connectionwith Edward Butler was significant. He sent his father's bank certainaccounts which it otherwise could not have secured. The city treasurerbecame interested in it, and the State treasurer. Cowperwood, Sr. , stoodto earn twenty thousand a year as president, and he owed much of itto his son. The two families were now on the best of terms. Anna, nowtwenty-one, and Edward and Joseph frequently spent the night at Frank'shouse. Lillian called almost daily at his mother's. There was muchinterchange of family gossip, and it was thought well to build side byside. So Cowperwood, Sr. , bought fifty feet of ground next to his son'sthirty-five, and together they commenced the erection of two charming, commodious homes, which were to be connected by a covered passageway, orpergola, which could be inclosed with glass in winter. 

The most popular local stone, a green granite was chosen; but Mr. Ellsworth promised to present it in such a way that it would beespecially pleasing. Cowperwood, Sr. , decided that he could afford tospent seventy-five thousand dollars--he was now worth two hundred andfifty thousand; and Frank decided that he could risk fifty, seeingthat he could raise money on a mortgage. He planned at the same time toremove his office farther south on Third Street and occupy a buildingof his own. He knew where an option was to be had on a twenty-five-footbuilding, which, though old, could be given a new brownstone front andmade very significant. He saw in his mind's eye a handsome building, fitted with an immense plate-glass window; inside his hardwood fixturesvisible; and over the door, or to one side of it, set in bronze letters, Cowperwood & Co. Vaguely but surely he began to see looming before him, like a fleecy tinted cloud on the horizon, his future fortune. He was tobe rich, very, very rich. 

Chapter XIII

During all the time that Cowperwood had been building himself up thussteadily the great war of the rebellion had been fought almost to itsclose. It was now October, 1864. The capture of Mobile and the Battle ofthe Wilderness were fresh memories. Grant was now before Petersburg, andthe great general of the South, Lee, was making that last brilliant andhopeless display of his ability as a strategist and a soldier. There hadbeen times--as, for instance, during the long, dreary period in whichthe country was waiting for Vicksburg to fall, for the Army of thePotomac to prove victorious, when Pennsylvania was invaded by Lee--whenstocks fell and commercial conditions were very bad generally. Intimes like these Cowperwood's own manipulative ability was taxed to theutmost, and he had to watch every hour to see that his fortune was notdestroyed by some unexpected and destructive piece of news. 

His personal attitude toward the war, however, and aside from hispatriotic feeling that the Union ought to be maintained, was that itwas destructive and wasteful. He was by no means so wanting in patrioticemotion and sentiment but that he could feel that the Union, as it hadnow come to be, spreading its great length from the Atlantic to thePacific and from the snows of Canada to the Gulf, was worth while. Since his birth in 1837 he had seen the nation reach that physicalgrowth--barring Alaska--which it now possesses. Not so much earlier thanhis youth Florida had been added to the Union by purchase from Spain;Mexico, after the unjust war of 1848, had ceded Texas and the territoryto the West. The boundary disputes between England and the United Statesin the far Northwest had been finally adjusted. To a man with greatsocial and financial imagination, these facts could not help but besignificant; and if they did nothing more, they gave him a sense of theboundless commercial possibilities which existed potentially in sovast a realm. His was not the order of speculative financial enthusiasmwhich, in the type known as the "promoter, " sees endless possibilitiesfor gain in every unexplored rivulet and prairie reach; but the veryvastness of the country suggested possibilities which he hoped mightremain undisturbed. A territory covering the length of a whole zone andbetween two seas, seemed to him to possess potentialities which it couldnot retain if the States of the South were lost. 

At the same time, the freedom of the negro was not a significant pointwith him. He had observed that race from his boyhood with considerableinterest, and had been struck with virtues and defects which seemedinherent and which plainly, to him, conditioned their experiences. 

He was not at all sure, for instance, that the negroes could be madeinto anything much more significant than they were. At any rate, it wasa long uphill struggle for them, of which many future generations wouldnot witness the conclusion. He had no particular quarrel with the theorythat they should be free; he saw no particular reason why the Southshould not protest vigorously against the destruction of their propertyand their system. It was too bad that the negroes as slaves should beabused in some instances. He felt sure that that ought to be adjustedin some way; but beyond that he could not see that there was any greatethical basis for the contentions of their sponsors. The vast majorityof men and women, as he could see, were not essentially above slavery, even when they had all the guarantees of a constitution formulated toprevent it. There was mental slavery, the slavery of the weak mindand the weak body. He followed the contentions of such men as Sumner, Garrison, Phillips, and Beecher, with considerable interest; but at notime could he see that the problem was a vital one for him. He didnot care to be a soldier or an officer of soldiers; he had no gift forpolemics; his mind was not of the disputatious order--not even inthe realm of finance. He was concerned only to see what was of vastadvantage to him, and to devote all his attention to that. Thisfratricidal war in the nation could not help him. It really delayed, hethought, the true commercial and financial adjustment of the country, and he hoped that it would soon end. He was not of those who complainedbitterly of the excessive war taxes, though he knew them to be trying tomany. Some of the stories of death and disaster moved him greatly; but, alas, they were among the unaccountable fortunes of life, and couldnot be remedied by him. So he had gone his way day by day, watchingthe coming in and the departing of troops, seeing the bands of dirty, disheveled, gaunt, sickly men returning from the fields and hospitals;and all he could do was to feel sorry. This war was not for him. He hadtaken no part in it, and he felt sure that he could only rejoice inits conclusion--not as a patriot, but as a financier. It was wasteful, pathetic, unfortunate. 

The months proceeded apace. A local election intervened and there was anew city treasurer, a new assessor of taxes, and a new mayor; but EdwardMalia Butler continued to have apparently the same influence as before. The Butlers and the Cowperwoods had become quite friendly. Mrs. Butlerrather liked Lillian, though they were of different religious beliefs;and they went driving or shopping together, the younger woman a littlecritical and ashamed of the elder because of her poor grammar, herIrish accent, her plebeian tastes--as though the Wiggins had not been asplebeian as any. On the other hand the old lady, as she was compelled toadmit, was good-natured and good-hearted. She loved to give, since shehad plenty, and sent presents here and there to Lillian, the children, and others. "Now youse must come over and take dinner with us"--theButlers had arrived at the evening-dinner period--or "Youse must comedrive with me to-morrow. "

"Aileen, God bless her, is such a foine girl, " or "Norah, the darlin', is sick the day. "

But Aileen, her airs, her aggressive disposition, her love of attention, her vanity, irritated and at times disgusted Mrs. Cowperwood. She waseighteen now, with a figure which was subtly provocative. Her mannerwas boyish, hoydenish at times, and although convent-trained, she wasinclined to balk at restraint in any form. But there was a softnesslurking in her blue eyes that was most sympathetic and human. 

St. Timothy's and the convent school in Germantown had been the choiceof her parents for her education--what they called a good Catholiceducation. She had learned a great deal about the theory and forms ofthe Catholic ritual, but she could not understand them. The church, withits tall, dimly radiant windows, its high, white altar, its figure ofSt. Joseph on one side and the Virgin Mary on the other, clothed ingolden-starred robes of blue, wearing haloes and carrying scepters, hadimpressed her greatly. The church as a whole--any Catholic church--wasbeautiful to look at--soothing. The altar, during high mass, lit with ahalf-hundred or more candles, and dignified and made impressive by therich, lacy vestments of the priests and the acolytes, the impressiveneedlework and gorgeous colorings of the amice, chasuble, cope, stole, and maniple, took her fancy and held her eye. Let us say there wasalways lurking in her a sense of grandeur coupled with a love of colorand a love of love. From the first she was somewhat sex-conscious. Shehad no desire for accuracy, no desire for precise information. Innatesensuousness rarely has. It basks in sunshine, bathes in color, dwellsin a sense of the impressive and the gorgeous, and rests there. Accuracyis not necessary except in the case of aggressive, acquisitive natures, when it manifests itself in a desire to seize. True controllingsensuousness cannot be manifested in the most active dispositions, noragain in the most accurate. 

There is need of defining these statements in so far as they applyto Aileen. It would scarcely be fair to describe her nature as beingdefinitely sensual at this time. It was too rudimentary. Any harvest isof long growth. The confessional, dim on Friday and Saturday evenings, when the church was lighted by but a few lamps, and the priest'swarnings, penances, and ecclesiastical forgiveness whispered throughthe narrow lattice, moved her as something subtly pleasing. She was notafraid of her sins. Hell, so definitely set forth, did not frighten her. Really, it had not laid hold on her conscience. The old women and oldmen hobbling into church, bowed in prayer, murmuring over their beads, were objects of curious interest like the wood-carvings in the peculiararray of wood-reliefs emphasizing the Stations of the Cross. She herselfhad liked to confess, particularly when she was fourteen and fifteen, and to listen to the priest's voice as he admonished her with, "Now, my dear child. " A particularly old priest, a French father, who cameto hear their confessions at school, interested her as being kind andsweet. His forgiveness and blessing seemed sincere--better than herprayers, which she went through perfunctorily. And then there was ayoung priest at St. Timothy's, Father David, hale and rosy, with a curlof black hair over his forehead, and an almost jaunty way of wearing hispriestly hat, who came down the aisle Sundays sprinkling holy waterwith a definite, distinguished sweep of the hand, who took her fancy. He heard confessions and now and then she liked to whisper her strangethoughts to him while she actually speculated on what he might privatelybe thinking. She could not, if she tried, associate him with any divineauthority. He was too young, too human. There was something a littlemalicious, teasing, in the way she delighted to tell him about herself, and then walk demurely, repentantly out. At St. Agatha's she had beenrather a difficult person to deal with. She was, as the good sisters ofthe school had readily perceived, too full of life, too active, to beeasily controlled. "That Miss Butler, " once observed Sister Constantia, the Mother Superior, to Sister Sempronia, Aileen's immediate mentor, "is a very spirited girl, you may have a great deal of trouble with herunless you use a good deal of tact. You may have to coax her with littlegifts. You will get on better. " So Sister Sempronia had sought to findwhat Aileen was most interested in, and bribe her therewith. Beingintensely conscious of her father's competence, and vain of her personalsuperiority, it was not so easy to do. She had wanted to go homeoccasionally, though; she had wanted to be allowed to wear the sister'srosary of large beads with its pendent cross of ebony and its silverChrist, and this was held up as a great privilege. For keeping quiet inclass, walking softly, and speaking softly--as much as it was in her todo--for not stealing into other girl's rooms after lights were out, andfor abandoning crushes on this and that sympathetic sister, these awardsand others, such as walking out in the grounds on Saturday afternoons, being allowed to have all the flowers she wanted, some extra dresses, jewels, etc. , were offered. She liked music and the idea of painting, though she had no talent in that direction; and books, novels, interested her, but she could not get them. The rest--grammar, spelling, sewing, church and general history--she loathed. Deportment--well, therewas something in that. She had liked the rather exaggerated curtsiesthey taught her, and she had often reflected on how she would use themwhen she reached home. 

When she came out into life the little social distinctions which havebeen indicated began to impress themselves on her, and she wishedsincerely that her father would build a better home--a mansion--such asthose she saw elsewhere, and launch her properly in society. Failing inthat, she could think of nothing save clothes, jewels, riding-horses, carriages, and the appropriate changes of costume which were allowed herfor these. Her family could not entertain in any distinguished way wherethey were, and so already, at eighteen, she was beginning to feel thesting of a blighted ambition. She was eager for life. How was she to getit?

Her room was a study in the foibles of an eager and ambitious mind. Itwas full of clothes, beautiful things for all occasions--jewelry--whichshe had small opportunity to wear--shoes, stockings, lingerie, laces. Ina crude way she had made a study of perfumes and cosmetics, though sheneeded the latter not at all, and these were present in abundance. She was not very orderly, and she loved lavishness of display; andher curtains, hangings, table ornaments, and pictures inclined togorgeousness, which did not go well with the rest of the house. 

Aileen always reminded Cowperwood of a high-stepping horse without acheck-rein. He met her at various times, shopping with her mother, outdriving with her father, and he was always interested and amused at theaffected, bored tone she assumed before him--the "Oh, dear! Oh, dear!Life is so tiresome, don't you know, " when, as a matter of fact, everymoment of it was of thrilling interest to her. Cowperwood took hermental measurement exactly. A girl with a high sense of life in her, romantic, full of the thought of love and its possibilities. As helooked at her he had the sense of seeing the best that nature can dowhen she attempts to produce physical perfection. The thought came tohim that some lucky young dog would marry her pretty soon and carry heraway; but whoever secured her would have to hold her by affection andsubtle flattery and attention if he held her at all. 

"The little snip"--she was not at all--"she thinks the sun rises andsets in her father's pocket, " Lillian observed one day to her husband. "To hear her talk, you'd think they were descended from Irish kings. Herpretended interest in art and music amuses me. "

"Oh, don't be too hard on her, " coaxed Cowperwood diplomatically. Healready liked Aileen very much. "She plays very well, and she has a goodvoice. "

"Yes, I know; but she has no real refinement. How could she have? Lookat her father and mother. "

"I don't see anything so very much the matter with her, " insistedCowperwood. "She's bright and good-looking. Of course, she's only agirl, and a little vain, but she'll come out of that. She isn't withoutsense and force, at that. "

Aileen, as he knew, was most friendly to him. She liked him. She made apoint of playing the piano and singing for him in his home, and she sangonly when he was there. There was something about his steady, even gait, his stocky body and handsome head, which attracted her. In spite ofher vanity and egotism, she felt a little overawed before him attimes--keyed up. She seemed to grow gayer and more brilliant in hispresence. 

The most futile thing in this world is any attempt, perhaps, atexact definition of character. All individuals are a bundle ofcontradictions--none more so than the most capable. 

In the case of Aileen Butler it would be quite impossible to givean exact definition. Intelligence, of a raw, crude order she hadcertainly--also a native force, tamed somewhat by the doctrines andconventions of current society, still showed clear at times in anelemental and not entirely unattractive way. At this time she was onlyeighteen years of age--decidedly attractive from the point of view of aman of Frank Cowperwood's temperament. She supplied something he had notpreviously known or consciously craved. Vitality and vivacity. No otherwoman or girl whom he had ever known had possessed so much innateforce as she. Her red-gold hair--not so red as decidedly golden with asuggestion of red in it--looped itself in heavy folds about her foreheadand sagged at the base of her neck. She had a beautiful nose, notsensitive, but straight-cut with small nostril openings, and eyes thatwere big and yet noticeably sensuous. They were, to him, a pleasingshade of blue-gray-blue, and her toilet, due to her temperament, ofcourse, suggested almost undue luxury, the bangles, anklets, ear-rings, and breast-plates of the odalisque, and yet, of course, they were notthere. She confessed to him years afterward that she would have lovedto have stained her nails and painted the palms of her hands withmadder-red. Healthy and vigorous, she was chronically interested inmen--what they would think of her--and how she compared with otherwomen. 

The fact that she could ride in a carriage, live in a fine home onGirard Avenue, visit such homes as those of the Cowperwoods and others, was of great weight; and yet, even at this age, she realized that lifewas more than these things. Many did not have them and lived. 

But these facts of wealth and advantage gripped her; and when she sat atthe piano and played or rode in her carriage or walked or stood beforeher mirror, she was conscious of her figure, her charms, what theymeant to men, how women envied her. Sometimes she looked at poor, hollow-chested or homely-faced girls and felt sorry for them; at othertimes she flared into inexplicable opposition to some handsome girl orwoman who dared to brazen her socially or physically. There were suchgirls of the better families who, in Chestnut Street, in the expensiveshops, or on the drive, on horseback or in carriages, tossed their headsand indicated as well as human motions can that they were better-bredand knew it. When this happened each stared defiantly at the other. Shewanted ever so much to get up in the world, and yet namby-pamby menof better social station than herself did not attract her at all. Shewanted a man. Now and then there was one "something like, " but notentirely, who appealed to her, but most of them were politicians orlegislators, acquaintances of her father, and socially nothing atall--and so they wearied and disappointed her. Her father did not knowthe truly elite. But Mr. Cowperwood--he seemed so refined, so forceful, and so reserved. She often looked at Mrs. Cowperwood and thought howfortunate she was. 

Chapter XIV

The development of Cowperwood as Cowperwood & Co. Following hisarresting bond venture, finally brought him into relationship with oneman who was to play an important part in his life, morally, financially, and in other ways. This was George W. Stener, the new citytreasurer-elect, who, to begin with, was a puppet in the hands ofother men, but who, also in spite of this fact, became a personage ofconsiderable importance, for the simple reason that he was weak. Stenerhad been engaged in the real estate and insurance business in a smallway before he was made city treasurer. He was one of those men, of whomthere are so many thousands in every large community, with no breadthof vision, no real subtlety, no craft, no great skill in anything. Youwould never hear a new idea emanating from Stener. He never had one inhis life. On the other hand, he was not a bad fellow. He had a stodgy, dusty, commonplace look to him which was more a matter of mind than ofbody. His eye was of vague gray-blue; his hair a dusty light-brown andthin. His mouth--there was nothing impressive there. He was quite tall, nearly six feet, with moderately broad shoulders, but his figure wasanything but shapely. He seemed to stoop a little, his stomach was theleast bit protuberant, and he talked commonplaces--the small change ofnewspaper and street and business gossip. People liked him in his ownneighborhood. He was thought to be honest and kindly; and he was, as faras he knew. His wife and four children were as average and insignificantas the wives and children of such men usually are. 

Just the same, and in spite of, or perhaps, politically speaking, because of all this, George W. Stener was brought into temporary publicnotice by certain political methods which had existed in Philadelphiapractically unmodified for the previous half hundred years. First, because he was of the same political faith as the dominant localpolitical party, he had become known to the local councilman andward-leader of his ward as a faithful soul--one useful in the matterof drumming up votes. And next--although absolutely without value asa speaker, for he had no ideas--you could send him from door to door, asking the grocer and the blacksmith and the butcher how he felt aboutthings and he would make friends, and in the long run predict fairlyaccurately the probable vote. Furthermore, you could dole him out a fewplatitudes and he would repeat them. The Republican party, which was thenew-born party then, but dominant in Philadelphia, needed your vote; itwas necessary to keep the rascally Democrats out--he could scarcely havesaid why. They had been for slavery. They were for free trade. It neveronce occurred to him that these things had nothing to do with the localexecutive and financial administration of Philadelphia. Supposing theydidn't? What of it?

In Philadelphia at this time a certain United States Senator, one MarkSimpson, together with Edward Malia Butler and Henry A. Mollenhauer, a rich coal dealer and investor, were supposed to, and did, controljointly the political destiny of the city. They had representatives, benchmen, spies, tools--a great company. Among them was this sameStener--a minute cog in the silent machinery of their affairs. 

In scarcely any other city save this, where the inhabitants were of adeadly average in so far as being commonplace was concerned, could sucha man as Stener have been elected city treasurer. The rank and filedid not, except in rare instances, make up their political program. Aninside ring had this matter in charge. Certain positions were allottedto such and such men or to such and such factions of the party for suchand such services rendered--but who does not know politics?

In due course of time, therefore, George W. Stener had become personagrata to Edward Strobik, a quondam councilman who afterward became wardleader and still later president of council, and who, in private lifewas a stone-dealer and owner of a brickyard. Strobik was a benchmanof Henry A. Mollenhauer, the hardest and coldest of all three of thepolitical leaders. The latter had things to get from council, andStrobik was his tool. He had Stener elected; and because he wasfaithful in voting as he was told the latter was later made an assistantsuperintendent of the highways department. 

Here he came under the eyes of Edward Malia Butler, and was slightlyuseful to him. Then the central political committee, with Butler incharge, decided that some nice, docile man who would at the same time beabsolutely faithful was needed for city treasurer, and Stener was put onthe ticket. He knew little of finance, but was an excellent bookkeeper;and, anyhow, was not corporation counsel Regan, another political toolof this great triumvirate, there to advise him at all times? He was. It was a very simple matter. Being put on the ticket was equivalent tobeing elected, and so, after a few weeks of exceedingly tryingplatform experiences, in which he had stammered through platitudinousdeclarations that the city needed to be honestly administered, he wasinducted into office; and there you were. 

Now it wouldn't have made so much difference what George W. Stener'sexecutive and financial qualifications for the position were, butat this time the city of Philadelphia was still hobbling along underperhaps as evil a financial system, or lack of it, as any city everendured--the assessor and the treasurer being allowed to collect andhold moneys belonging to the city, outside of the city's private vaults, and that without any demand on the part of anybody that the same beinvested by them at interest for the city's benefit. Rather, all theywere expected to do, apparently, was to restore the principal andthat which was with them when they entered or left office. It was notunderstood or publicly demanded that the moneys so collected, ordrawn from any source, be maintained intact in the vaults of the citytreasury. They could be loaned out, deposited in banks or used tofurther private interests of any one, so long as the principal wasreturned, and no one was the wiser. Of course, this theory offinance was not publicly sanctioned, but it was known politically andjournalistically, and in high finance. How were you to stop it?

Cowperwood, in approaching Edward Malia Butler, had been unconsciouslylet in on this atmosphere of erratic and unsatisfactory speculationwithout really knowing it. When he had left the office of Tighe & Co. , seven years before, it was with the idea that henceforth and forever hewould have nothing to do with the stock-brokerage proposition; but nowbehold him back in it again, with more vim than he had ever displayed, for now he was working for himself, the firm of Cowperwood & Co. , andhe was eager to satisfy the world of new and powerful individuals who bydegrees were drifting to him. All had a little money. All had tips, and they wanted him to carry certain lines of stock on margin for them, because he was known to other political men, and because he was safe. And this was true. He was not, or at least up to this time had not been, a speculator or a gambler on his own account. In fact he often soothedhimself with the thought that in all these years he had never gambledfor himself, but had always acted strictly for others instead. But nowhere was George W. Stener with a proposition which was not quite thesame thing as stock-gambling, and yet it was. 

During a long period of years preceding the Civil War, and through it, let it here be explained and remembered, the city of Philadelphia hadbeen in the habit, as a corporation, when there were no available fundsin the treasury, of issuing what were known as city warrants, which werenothing more than notes or I. O. U. 's bearing six per cent. Interest, andpayable sometimes in thirty days, sometimes in three, sometimes in sixmonths--all depending on the amount and how soon the city treasurerthought there would be sufficient money in the treasury to take them upand cancel them. Small tradesmen and large contractors were frequentlypaid in this way; the small tradesman who sold supplies to the cityinstitutions, for instance, being compelled to discount his notes at thebank, if he needed ready money, usually for ninety cents on the dollar, while the large contractor could afford to hold his and wait. It canreadily be seen that this might well work to the disadvantage of thesmall dealer and merchant, and yet prove quite a fine thing for a largecontractor or note-broker, for the city was sure to pay the warrants atsome time, and six per cent. Interest was a fat rate, considering theabsolute security. A banker or broker who gathered up these things fromsmall tradesmen at ninety cents on the dollar made a fine thing of itall around if he could wait. 

Originally, in all probability, there was no intention on the part ofthe city treasurer to do any one an injustice, and it is likely thatthere really were no funds to pay with at the time. However that mayhave been, there was later no excuse for issuing the warrants, seeingthat the city might easily have been managed much more economically. Butthese warrants, as can readily be imagined, had come to be a fine sourceof profit for note-brokers, bankers, political financiers, and insidepolitical manipulators generally and so they remained a part of thecity's fiscal policy. 

There was just one drawback to all this. In order to get the fulladvantage of this condition the large banker holding them must be an"inside banker, " one close to the political forces of the city, forif he was not and needed money and he carried his warrants to the citytreasurer, he would find that he could not get cash for them. But ifhe transferred them to some banker or note-broker who was close to thepolitical force of the city, it was quite another matter. The treasurywould find means to pay. Or, if so desired by the note-broker orbanker--the right one--notes which were intended to be met in threemonths, and should have been settled at that time, were extended to runon years and years, drawing interest at six per cent. Even when thecity had ample funds to meet them. Yet this meant, of course, an illegalinterest drain on the city, but that was all right also. "No funds"could cover that. The general public did not know. It could not findout. The newspapers were not at all vigilant, being pro-political. Therewere no persistent, enthusiastic reformers who obtained any politicalcredence. During the war, warrants outstanding in this manner arosein amount to much over two million dollars, all drawing six per cent. Interest, but then, of course, it began to get a little scandalous. Besides, at least some of the investors began to want their money back. 

In order, therefore, to clear up this outstanding indebtedness and makeeverything shipshape again, it was decided that the city must issue aloan, say for two million dollars--no need to be exact about the amount. And this loan must take the shape of interest-bearing certificates of apar value of one hundred dollars, redeemable in six, twelve, or eighteenmonths, as the case may be. These certificates of loan were thenostensibly to be sold in the open market, a sinking-fund set asidefor their redemption, and the money so obtained used to take up thelong-outstanding warrants which were now such a subject of publiccomment. 

It is obvious that this was merely a case of robbing Peter to payPaul. There was no real clearing up of the outstanding debt. It wasthe intention of the schemers to make it possible for the financialpoliticians on the inside to reap the same old harvest by allowing thecertificates to be sold to the right parties for ninety or less, settingup the claim that there was no market for them, the credit of the citybeing bad. To a certain extent this was true. The war was just over. Money was high. Investors could get more than six per cent. Elsewhereunless the loan was sold at ninety. But there were a few watchfulpoliticians not in the administration, and some newspapers andnon-political financiers who, because of the high strain of patriotismexisting at the time, insisted that the loan should be sold at par. Therefore a clause to that effect had to be inserted in the enablingordinance. 

This, as one might readily see, destroyed the politicians' little schemeto get this loan at ninety. Nevertheless since they desired that themoney tied up in the old warrants and now not redeemable because of lackof funds should be paid them, the only way this could be done would beto have some broker who knew the subtleties of the stock market handlethis new city loan on 'change in such a way that it would be made toseem worth one hundred and to be sold to outsiders at that figure. Afterward, if, as it was certain to do, it fell below that, thepoliticians could buy as much of it as they pleased, and eventually havethe city redeem it at par. 

George W. Stener, entering as city treasurer at this time, and bringingno special financial intelligence to the proposition, was reallytroubled. Henry A. Mollenhauer, one of the men who had gathered up alarge amount of the old city warrants, and who now wanted his money, inorder to invest it in bonanza offers in the West, called on Stener, andalso on the mayor. He with Simpson and Butler made up the Big Three. 

"I think something ought to be done about these warrants that areoutstanding, " he explained. "I am carrying a large amount of them, andthere are others. We have helped the city a long time by saying nothing;but now I think that something ought to be done. Mr. Butler and Mr. Simpson feel the same way. Couldn't these new loan certificates belisted on the stock exchange and the money raised that way? Some cleverbroker could bring them to par. "

Stener was greatly flattered by the visit from Mollenhauer. Rarely didhe trouble to put in a personal appearance, and then only for the weightand effect his presence would have. He called on the mayor and thepresident of council, much as he called on Stener, with a lofty, distant, inscrutable air. They were as office-boys to him. 

In order to understand exactly the motive for Mollenhauer's interestin Stener, and the significance of this visit and Stener's subsequentaction in regard to it, it will be necessary to scan the politicalhorizon for some little distance back. Although George W. Stener was ina way a political henchman and appointee of Mollenhauer's, the latterwas only vaguely acquainted with him. He had seen him before; knew ofhim; had agreed that his name should be put on the local slate largelybecause he had been assured by those who were closest to him and whodid his bidding that Stener was "all right, " that he would do as hewas told, that he would cause no one any trouble, etc. In fact, during several previous administrations, Mollenhauer had maintained asubsurface connection with the treasury, but never so close a one ascould easily be traced. He was too conspicuous a man politically andfinancially for that. But he was not above a plan, in which Simpson ifnot Butler shared, of using political and commercial stool-pigeons tobleed the city treasury as much as possible without creating a scandal. In fact, for some years previous to this, various agents had alreadybeen employed--Edward Strobik, president of council, Asa Conklin, thethen incumbent of the mayor's chair, Thomas Wycroft, alderman, JacobHarmon, alderman, and others--to organize dummy companies under variousnames, whose business it was to deal in those things which the cityneeded--lumber, stone, steel, iron, cement--a long list--and of course, always at a fat profit to those ultimately behind the dummy companies, so organized. It saved the city the trouble of looking far and wide forhonest and reasonable dealers. 

Since the action of at least three of these dummies will have somethingto do with the development of Cowperwood's story, they may be brieflydescribed. Edward Strobik, the chief of them, and the one most useful toMollenhauer, in a minor way, was a very spry person of about thirty-fiveat this time--lean and somewhat forceful, with black hair, black eyes, and an inordinately large black mustache. He was dapper, inclined tonoticeable clothing--a pair of striped trousers, a white vest, a blackcutaway coat and a high silk hat. His markedly ornamental shoes werealways polished to perfection, and his immaculate appearance gave himthe nickname of "The Dude" among some. Nevertheless he was quite able ona small scale, and was well liked by many. 

His two closest associates, Messrs. Thomas Wycroft and Jacob Harmon, were rather less attractive and less brilliant. Jacob Harmon was a thickwit socially, but no fool financially. He was big and rather doleful tolook upon, with sandy brown hair and brown eyes, but fairly intelligent, and absolutely willing to approve anything which was not too broad inits crookedness and which would afford him sufficient protection to keephim out of the clutches of the law. He was really not so cunning as dulland anxious to get along. 

Thomas Wycroft, the last of this useful but minor triumvirate, was atall, lean man, candle-waxy, hollow-eyed, gaunt of face, pathetic tolook at physically, but shrewd. He was an iron-molder by trade and hadgotten into politics much as Stener had--because he was useful; and hehad managed to make some money--via this triumvirate of which Strobikwas the ringleader, and which was engaged in various peculiar businesseswhich will now be indicated. 

The companies which these several henchmen had organized under previousadministrations, and for Mollenhauer, dealt in meat, building material, lamp-posts, highway supplies, anything you will, which the citydepartments or its institutions needed. A city contract once awarded wasirrevocable, but certain councilmen had to be fixed in advance andit took money to do that. The company so organized need not actuallyslaughter any cattle or mold lamp-posts. All it had to do was toorganize to do that, obtain a charter, secure a contract for supplyingsuch material to the city from the city council (which Strobik, Harmon, and Wycroft would attend to), and then sublet this to some actualbeef-slaughterer or iron-founder, who would supply the material andallow them to pocket their profit which in turn was divided or paid forto Mollenhauer and Simpson in the form of political donations toclubs or organizations. It was so easy and in a way so legitimate. Theparticular beef-slaughterer or iron-founder thus favored could not hopeof his own ability thus to obtain a contract. Stener, or whoever wasin charge of the city treasury at the time, for his services in loaningmoney at a low rate of interest to be used as surety for the properperformance of contract, and to aid in some instances the beef-killer oriron-founder to carry out his end, was to be allowed not only the one ortwo per cent. Which he might pocket (other treasurers had), but a fairproportion of the profits. A complacent, confidential chief clerk whowas all right would be recommended to him. It did not concern Stenerthat Strobik, Harmon, and Wycroft, acting for Mollenhauer, wereincidentally planning to use a little of the money loaned for purposesquite outside those indicated. It was his business to loan it. 

However, to be going on. Some time before he was even nominated, Stenerhad learned from Strobik, who, by the way, was one of his suretiesas treasurer (which suretyship was against the law, as were those ofCouncilmen Wycroft and Harmon, the law of Pennsylvania stipulating thatone political servant might not become surety for another), that thosewho had brought about this nomination and election would by no means askhim to do anything which was not perfectly legal, but that he must becomplacent and not stand in the way of big municipal perquisites norbite the hands that fed him. It was also made perfectly plain to him, that once he was well in office a little money for himself was to bemade. As has been indicated, he had always been a poor man. He had seenall those who had dabbled in politics to any extent about him heretoforedo very well financially indeed, while he pegged along as an insuranceand real-estate agent. He had worked hard as a small political henchman. Other politicians were building themselves nice homes in newer portionsof the city. They were going off to New York or Harrisburg or Washingtonon jaunting parties. They were seen in happy converse at road-houses orcountry hotels in season with their wives or their women favorites, and he was not, as yet, of this happy throng. Naturally now that he waspromised something, he was interested and compliant. What might he notget?

When it came to this visit from Mollenhauer, with its suggestionin regard to bringing city loan to par, although it bore no obviousrelation to Mollenhauer's subsurface connection with Stener, throughStrobik and the others, Stener did definitely recognize his ownpolitical subservience--his master's stentorian voice--and immediatelythereafter hurried to Strobik for information. 

"Just what would you do about this?" he asked of Strobik, who knew ofMollenhauer's visit before Stener told him, and was waiting for Stenerto speak to him. "Mr. Mollenhauer talks about having this new loanlisted on 'change and brought to par so that it will sell for onehundred. "

Neither Strobik, Harmon, nor Wycroft knew how the certificates of cityloan, which were worth only ninety on the open market, were to be madeto sell for one hundred on 'change, but Mollenhauer's secretary, oneAbner Sengstack, had suggested to Strobik that, since Butler was dealingwith young Cowperwood and Mollenhauer did not care particularly for hisprivate broker in this instance, it might be as well to try Cowperwood. 

So it was that Cowperwood was called to Stener's office. And once there, and not as yet recognizing either the hand of Mollenhauer or Simpsonin this, merely looked at the peculiarly shambling, heavy-cheeked, middle-class man before him without either interest or sympathy, realizing at once that he had a financial baby to deal with. If he couldact as adviser to this man--be his sole counsel for four years!

"How do you do, Mr. Stener?" he said in his soft, ingratiating voice, as the latter held out his hand. "I am glad to meet you. I have heard ofyou before, of course. "

Stener was long in explaining to Cowperwood just what his difficultywas. He went at it in a clumsy fashion, stumbling through thedifficulties of the situation he was suffered to meet. 

"The main thing, as I see it, is to make these certificates sell at par. I can issue them in any sized lots you like, and as often as you like. Iwant to get enough now to clear away two hundred thousand dollars' worthof the outstanding warrants, and as much more as I can get later. "

Cowperwood felt like a physician feeling a patient's pulse--a patientwho is really not sick at all but the reassurance of whom means a fatfee. The abstrusities of the stock exchange were as his A B C's to him. He knew if he could have this loan put in his hands--all of it, if hecould have the fact kept dark that he was acting for the city, and thatif Stener would allow him to buy as a "bull" for the sinking-fund whileselling judiciously for a rise, he could do wonders even with a bigissue. He had to have all of it, though, in order that he might haveagents under him. Looming up in his mind was a scheme whereby he couldmake a lot of the unwary speculators about 'change go short of thisstock or loan under the impression, of course, that it was scatteredfreely in various persons' hands, and that they could buy as much of itas they wanted. Then they would wake to find that they could not get it;that he had it all. Only he would not risk his secret that far. Not he, oh, no. But he would drive the city loan to par and then sell. Andwhat a fat thing for himself among others in so doing. Wisely enoughhe sensed that there was politics in all this--shrewder and bigger menabove and behind Stener. But what of that? And how slyly and shrewdlythey were sending Stener to him. It might be that his name was becomingvery potent in their political world here. And what might that not mean!

"I tell you what I'd like to do, Mr. Stener, " he said, after he hadlistened to his explanation and asked how much of the city loan he wouldlike to sell during the coming year. "I'll be glad to undertake it. ButI'd like to have a day or two in which to think it over. "

"Why, certainly, certainly, Mr. Cowperwood, " replied Stener, genially. "That's all right. Take your time. If you know how it can be done, justshow me when you're ready. By the way, what do you charge?"

"Well, the stock exchange has a regular scale of charges which webrokers are compelled to observe. It's one-fourth of one per cent. Onthe par value of bonds and loans. Of course, I may hav to add a lot offictitious selling--I'll explain that to you later--but I won't chargeyou anything for that so long as it is a secret between us. I'll giveyou the best service I can, Mr. Stener. You can depend on that. Let mehave a day or two to think it over, though. "

He shook hands with Stener, and they parted. Cowperwood was satisfiedthat he was on the verge of a significant combination, and Stener thathe had found someone on whom he could lean. 

Chapter XV

The plan Cowperwood developed after a few days' meditation will beplain enough to any one who knows anything of commercial and financialmanipulation, but a dark secret to those who do not. In the first place, the city treasurer was to use his (Cowperwood's) office as a bank ofdeposit. He was to turn over to him, actually, or set over to his crediton the city's books, subject to his order, certain amounts of cityloans--two hundred thousand dollars at first, since that was the amountit was desired to raise quickly--and he would then go into the marketand see what could be done to have it brought to par. The city treasurerwas to ask leave of the stock exchange at once to have it listed asa security. Cowperwood would then use his influence to have thisapplication acted upon quickly. Stener was then to dispose of all cityloan certificates through him, and him only. He was to allow him to buyfor the sinking-fund, supposedly, such amounts as he might have to buyin order to keep the price up to par. To do this, once a considerablenumber of the loan certificates had been unloaded on the public, itmight be necessary to buy back a great deal. However, these would besold again. The law concerning selling only at par would have to beabrogated to this extent--i. E. , that the wash sales and preliminarysales would have to be considered no sales until par was reached. 

There was a subtle advantage here, as Cowperwood pointed out to Stener. In the first place, since the certificates were going ultimately toreach par anyway, there was no objection to Stener or any one elsebuying low at the opening price and holding for a rise. Cowperwood wouldbe glad to carry him on his books for any amount, and he would settleat the end of each month. He would not be asked to buy the certificatesoutright. He could be carried on the books for a certain reasonablemargin, say ten points. The money was as good as made for Stener now. Inthe next place, in buying for the sinking-fund it would be possible tobuy these certificates very cheap, for, having the new and reserve issueentirely in his hands, Cowperwood could throw such amounts as he wishedinto the market at such times as he wished to buy, and consequentlydepress the market. Then he could buy, and, later, up would go theprice. Having the issues totally in his hands to boost or depressthe market as he wished, there was no reason why the city should notultimately get par for all its issues, and at the same time considerablemoney be made out of the manufactured fluctuations. He, Cowperwood, would be glad to make most of his profit that way. The city should allowhim his normal percentage on all his actual sales of certificates forthe city at par (he would have to have that in order to keep straightwith the stock exchange); but beyond that, and for all the othernecessary manipulative sales, of which there would be many, he woulddepend on his knowledge of the stock market to reimburse him. And ifStener wanted to speculate with him--well. 

Dark as this transaction may seem to the uninitiated, it will appearquite clear to those who know. Manipulative tricks have always beenworked in connection with stocks of which one man or one set of men hashad complete control. It was no different from what subsequently wasdone with Erie, Standard Oil, Copper, Sugar, Wheat, and what not. Cowperwood was one of the first and one of the youngest to see how itcould be done. When he first talked to Stener he was twenty-eight yearsof age. When he last did business with him he was thirty-four. 

The houses and the bank-front of Cowperwood & Co. Had been proceedingapace. The latter was early Florentine in its decorations with windowswhich grew narrower as they approached the roof, and a door of wroughtiron set between delicately carved posts, and a straight lintel ofbrownstone. It was low in height and distinguished in appearance. Inthe center panel had been hammered a hand, delicately wrought, thin andartistic, holding aloft a flaming brand. Ellsworth informed him thatthis had formerly been a money-changer's sign used in old Venice, thesignificance of which had long been forgotten. 

The interior was finished in highly-polished hardwood, stained inimitation of the gray lichens which infest trees. Large sheets of clear, beveled glass were used, some oval, some oblong, some square, and somecircular, following a given theory of eye movement. The fixtures forthe gas-jets were modeled after the early Roman flame-brackets, and theoffice safe was made an ornament, raised on a marble platform at theback of the office and lacquered a silver-gray, with Cowperwood & Co. Lettered on it in gold. One had a sense of reserve and taste pervadingthe place, and yet it was also inestimably prosperous, solid andassuring. Cowperwood, when he viewed it at its completion, complimentedEllsworth cheerily. "I like this. It is really beautiful. It will bea pleasure to work here. If those houses are going to be anything likethis, they will be perfect. "

"Wait till you see them. I think you will be pleased, Mr. Cowperwood. Iam taking especial pains with yours because it is smaller. It isreally easier to treat your father's. But yours--" He went off into adescription of the entrance-hall, reception-room and parlor, which hewas arranging and decorating in such a way as to give an effect of sizeand dignity not really conformable to the actual space. 

And when the houses were finished, they were effective andarresting--quite different from the conventional residences of thestreet. They were separated by a space of twenty feet, laid out asgreensward. The architect had borrowed somewhat from the Tudorschool, yet not so elaborated as later became the style in many of theresidences in Philadelphia and elsewhere. The most striking featureswere rather deep-recessed doorways under wide, low, slightly floriatedarches, and three projecting windows of rich form, one on the secondfloor of Frank's house, two on the facade of his father's. There weresix gables showing on the front of the two houses, two on Frank's andfour on his father's. In the front of each house on the ground floorwas a recessed window unconnected with the recessed doorways, formedby setting the inner external wall back from the outer face of thebuilding. This window looked out through an arched opening to thestreet, and was protected by a dwarf parapet or balustrade. It waspossible to set potted vines and flowers there, which was later done, giving a pleasant sense of greenery from the street, and to place a fewchairs there, which were reached via heavily barred French casements. 

On the ground floor of each house was placed a conservatory of flowers, facing each other, and in the yard, which was jointly used, a pool ofwhite marble eight feet in diameter, with a marble Cupid upon which jetsof water played. The yard which was enclosed by a high but pierced wallof green-gray brick, especially burnt for the purpose the same color asthe granite of the house, and surmounted by a white marble coping whichwas sown to grass and had a lovely, smooth, velvety appearance. The twohouses, as originally planned, were connected by a low, green-columnedpergola which could be enclosed in glass in winter. 

The rooms, which were now slowly being decorated and furnished in periodstyles were very significant in that they enlarged and strengthenedFrank Cowperwood's idea of the world of art in general. It was anenlightening and agreeable experience--one which made for artistic andintellectual growth--to hear Ellsworth explain at length the styles andtypes of architecture and furniture, the nature of woods and ornamentsemployed, the qualities and peculiarities of hangings, draperies, furniture panels, and door coverings. Ellsworth was a student ofdecoration as well as of architecture, and interested in the artistictaste of the American people, which he fancied would some day have asplendid outcome. He was wearied to death of the prevalent Romanesquecomposite combinations of country and suburban villa. The time was ripefor something new. He scarcely knew what it would be; but this that hehad designed for Cowperwood and his father was at least different, ashe said, while at the same time being reserved, simple, and pleasing. It was in marked contrast to the rest of the architecture of the street. Cowperwood's dining-room, reception-room, conservatory, and butler'spantry he had put on the first floor, together with the generalentry-hall, staircase, and coat-room under the stairs. For the secondfloor he had reserved the library, general living-room, parlor, anda small office for Cowperwood, together with a boudoir for Lillian, connected with a dressing-room and bath. 

On the third floor, neatly divided and accommodated with baths anddressing-rooms, were the nursery, the servants' quarters, and severalguest-chambers. 

Ellsworth showed Cowperwood books of designs containing furniture, hangings, etageres, cabinets, pedestals, and some exquisite piano forms. He discussed woods with him--rosewood, mahogany, walnut, Englishoak, bird's-eye maple, and the manufactured effects such as ormolu, marquetry, and Boule, or buhl. He explained the latter--how difficult itwas to produce, how unsuitable it was in some respects for this climate, the brass and tortoise-shell inlay coming to swell with the heat ordamp, and so bulging or breaking. He told of the difficulties anddisadvantages of certain finishes, but finally recommended ormolufurniture for the reception room, medallion tapestry for the parlor, French renaissance for the dining-room and library, and bird's-eye maple(dyed blue in one instance, and left its natural color in another) anda rather lightly constructed and daintily carved walnut for theother rooms. The hangings, wall-paper, and floor coverings were toharmonize--not match--and the piano and music-cabinet for the parlor, as well as the etagere, cabinets, and pedestals for the reception-rooms, were to be of buhl or marquetry, if Frank cared to stand the expense. 

Ellsworth advised a triangular piano--the square shapes were soinexpressibly wearisome to the initiated. Cowperwood listenedfascinated. He foresaw a home which would be chaste, soothing, anddelightful to look upon. If he hung pictures, gilt frames were to be thesetting, large and deep; and if he wished a picture-gallery, the librarycould be converted into that, and the general living-room, which laybetween the library and the parlor on the second-floor, could be turnedinto a combination library and living-room. This was eventually done;but not until his taste for pictures had considerably advanced. 

It was now that he began to take a keen interest in objects of art, pictures, bronzes, little carvings and figurines, for his cabinets, pedestals, tables, and etageres. Philadelphia did not offer much thatwas distinguished in this realm--certainly not in the open market. There were many private houses which were enriched by travel; but hisconnection with the best families was as yet small. There were thentwo famous American sculptors, Powers and Hosmer, of whose work he hadexamples; but Ellsworth told him that they were not the last word insculpture and that he should look into the merits of the ancients. Hefinally secured a head of David, by Thorwaldsen, which delighted him, and some landscapes by Hunt, Sully, and Hart, which seemed somewhat inthe spirit of his new world. 

The effect of a house of this character on its owner is unmistakable. We think we are individual, separate, above houses and material objectsgenerally; but there is a subtle connection which makes them reflect usquite as much as we reflect them. They lend dignity, subtlety, force, each to the other, and what beauty, or lack of it, there is, is shotback and forth from one to the other as a shuttle in a loom, weaving, weaving. Cut the thread, separate a man from that which is rightfullyhis own, characteristic of him, and you have a peculiar figure, halfsuccess, half failure, much as a spider without its web, which willnever be its whole self again until all its dignities and emoluments arerestored. 

The sight of his new house going up made Cowperwood feel of more weightin the world, and the possession of his suddenly achieved connectionwith the city treasurer was as though a wide door had been thrown opento the Elysian fields of opportunity. He rode about the city those daysbehind a team of spirited bays, whose glossy hides and metaled harnessbespoke the watchful care of hostler and coachman. Ellsworth wasbuilding an attractive stable in the little side street back of thehouses, for the joint use of both families. He told Mrs. Cowperwood thathe intended to buy her a victoria--as the low, open, four-wheeled coachwas then known--as soon as they were well settled in their new home, andthat they were to go out more. There was some talk about the valueof entertaining--that he would have to reach out socially for certainindividuals who were not now known to him. Together with Anna, hissister, and his two brothers, Joseph and Edward, they could use the twohouses jointly. There was no reason why Anna should not make a splendidmatch. Joe and Ed might marry well, since they were not destined to setthe world on fire in commerce. At least it would not hurt them to try. 

"Don't you think you will like that?" he asked his wife, referring tohis plans for entertaining. 

She smiled wanly. "I suppose so, " she said. 

Chapter XVI

It was not long after the arrangement between Treasurer Stener andCowperwood had been made that the machinery for the carrying out ofthat political-financial relationship was put in motion. The sum oftwo hundred and ten thousand dollars in six per cent. Interest-bearingcertificates, payable in ten years, was set over to the credit ofCowperwood & Co. On the books of the city, subject to his order. Then, with proper listing, he began to offer it in small amounts at more thanninety, at the same time creating the impression that it was going tobe a prosperous investment. The certificates gradually rose and wereunloaded in rising amounts until one hundred was reached, when allthe two hundred thousand dollars' worth--two thousand certificates inall--was fed out in small lots. Stener was satisfied. Two hundred shareshad been carried for him and sold at one hundred, which netted himtwo thousand dollars. It was illegitimate gain, unethical; but hisconscience was not very much troubled by that. He had none, truly. Hesaw visions of a halcyon future. 

It is difficult to make perfectly clear what a subtle and significantpower this suddenly placed in the hands of Cowperwood. Consider that hewas only twenty-eight--nearing twenty-nine. Imagine yourself by natureversed in the arts of finance, capable of playing with sums of money inthe forms of stocks, certificates, bonds, and cash, as the ordinary manplays with checkers or chess. Or, better yet, imagine yourself one ofthose subtle masters of the mysteries of the higher forms ofchess--the type of mind so well illustrated by the famous and historicchess-players, who could sit with their backs to a group of rivalsplaying fourteen men at once, calling out all the moves in turn, remembering all the positions of all the men on all the boards, andwinning. This, of course, would be an overstatement of the subtlety ofCowperwood at this time, and yet it would not be wholly out of bounds. He knew instinctively what could be done with a given sum of money--howas cash it could be deposited in one place, and yet as credit and thebasis of moving checks, used in not one but many other places at thesame time. When properly watched and followed this manipulation gave himthe constructive and purchasing power of ten and a dozen times as muchas his original sum might have represented. He knew instinctively theprinciples of "pyramiding" and "kiting. " He could see exactly not onlyhow he could raise and lower the value of these certificates of loan, day after day and year after year--if he were so fortunate as to retainhis hold on the city treasurer--but also how this would give him acredit with the banks hitherto beyond his wildest dreams. His father'sbank was one of the first to profit by this and to extend him loans. Thevarious local politicians and bosses--Mollenhauer, Butler, Simpson, andothers--seeing the success of his efforts in this direction, speculatedin city loan. He became known to Mollenhauer and Simpson, by reputation, if not personally, as the man who was carrying this city loanproposition to a successful issue. Stener was supposed to have donea clever thing in finding him. The stock exchange stipulated that alltrades were to be compared the same day and settled before the close ofthe next; but this working arrangement with the new city treasurer gaveCowperwood much more latitude, and now he had always until the first ofthe month, or practically thirty days at times, in which to render anaccounting for all deals connected with the loan issue. 

And, moreover, this was really not an accounting in the sense ofremoving anything from his hands. Since the issue was to be so large, the sum at his disposal would always be large, and so-called transfersand balancing at the end of the month would be a mere matter ofbookkeeping. He could use these city loan certificates deposited withhim for manipulative purposes, deposit them at any bank as collateralfor a loan, quite as if they were his own, thus raising seventy percent. Of their actual value in cash, and he did not hesitate to do so. He could take this cash, which need not be accounted for until the endof the month, and cover other stock transactions, on which he couldborrow again. There was no limit to the resources of which he now foundhimself possessed, except the resources of his own energy, ingenuity, and the limits of time in which he had to work. The politicians did notrealize what a bonanza he was making of it all for himself, because theywere as yet unaware of the subtlety of his mind. When Stener told him, after talking the matter over with the mayor, Strobik, and others thathe would formally, during the course of the year, set over on the city'sbooks all of the two millions in city loan, Cowperwood was silent--butwith delight. Two millions! His to play with! He had been called in asa financial adviser, and he had given his advice and it had been taken!Well. He was not a man who inherently was troubled with conscientiousscruples. At the same time he still believed himself financially honest. He was no sharper or shrewder than any other financier--certainly nosharper than any other would be if he could. 

It should be noted here that this proposition of Stener's in regard tocity money had no connection with the attitude of the principal leadersin local politics in regard to street-railway control, which was a newand intriguing phase of the city's financial life. Many of the leadingfinanciers and financier-politicians were interested in that. Forinstance, Messrs. Mollenhauer, Butler, and Simpson were interestedin street-railways separately on their own account. There was nounderstanding between them on this score. If they had thought at all onthe matter they would have decided that they did not want any outsiderto interfere. As a matter of fact the street-railway business inPhiladelphia was not sufficiently developed at this time to suggest toany one the grand scheme of union which came later. Yet in connectionwith this new arrangement between Stener and Cowperwood, it was Strobikwho now came forward to Stener with an idea of his own. All were certainto make money through Cowperwood--he and Stener, especially. Whatwas amiss, therefore, with himself and Stener and with Cowperwood astheir--or rather Stener's secret representative, since Strobik didnot dare to appear in the matter--buying now sufficient street-railwayshares in some one line to control it, and then, if he, Strobik, could, by efforts of his own, get the city council to set aside certain streetsfor its extension, why, there you were--they would own it. Only, later, he proposed to shake Stener out if he could. But this preliminary workhad to be done by some one, and it might as well be Stener. At thesame time, as he saw, this work had to be done very carefully, becausenaturally his superiors were watchful, and if they found him dabbling inaffairs of this kind to his own advantage, they might make it impossiblefor him to continue politically in a position where he could helphimself just the same. Any outside organization such as a street-railwaycompany already in existence had a right to appeal to the city councilfor privileges which would naturally further its and the city's growth, and, other things being equal, these could not be refused. It would notdo for him to appear, however, both as a shareholder and president ofthe council. But with Cowperwood acting privately for Stener it would beanother thing. 

The interesting thing about this proposition as finally presented byStener for Strobik to Cowperwood, was that it raised, without appearingto do so, the whole question of Cowperwood's attitude toward the cityadministration. Although he was dealing privately for Edward Butler asan agent, and with this same plan in mind, and although he had never meteither Mollenhauer or Simpson, he nevertheless felt that in so far asthe manipulation of the city loan was concerned he was acting for them. On the other hand, in this matter of the private street-railway purchasewhich Stener now brought to him, he realized from the very beginning, byStener's attitude, that there was something untoward in it, that Stenerfelt he was doing something which he ought not to do. 

"Cowperwood, " he said to him the first morning he ever broached thismatter--it was in Stener's office, at the old city hall at Sixth andChestnut, and Stener, in view of his oncoming prosperity, was feelingvery good indeed--"isn't there some street-railway property around townhere that a man could buy in on and get control of if he had sufficientmoney?"

Cowperwood knew that there were such properties. His very alert mindhad long since sensed the general opportunities here. The omnibuseswere slowly disappearing. The best routes were already preempted. Still, there were other streets, and the city was growing. The incomingpopulation would make great business in the future. One could afford topay almost any price for the short lines already built if one could waitand extend the lines into larger and better areas later. And alreadyhe had conceived in his own mind the theory of the "endless chain, "or "argeeable formula, " as it was later termed, of buying a certainproperty on a long-time payment and issuing stocks or bonds sufficientnot only to pay your seller, but to reimburse you for your trouble, to say nothing of giving you a margin wherewith to invest in otherthings--allied properties, for instance, against which more bonds couldbe issued, and so on, ad infinitum. It became an old story later, but itwas new at that time, and he kept the thought closely to himself. Nonethe less he was glad to have Stener speak of this, since street-railwayswere his hobby, and he was convinced that he would be a great master ofthem if he ever had an opportunity to control them. 

"Why, yes, George, " he said, noncommittally, "there are two or three thatoffer a good chance if a man had money enough. I notice blocks of stockbeing offered on 'change now and then by one person and another. Itwould be good policy to pick these things up as they're offered, andthen to see later if some of the other stockholders won't want to sellout. Green and Coates, now, looks like a good proposition to me. If Ihad three or four hundred thousand dollars that I thought I could putinto that by degrees I would follow it up. It only takes about thirtyper cent. Of the stock of any railroad to control it. Most of the sharesare scattered around so far and wide that they never vote, and I thinktwo or three hundred thousand dollars would control that road. " Hementioned one other line that might be secured in the same way in thecourse of time. 

Stener meditated. "That's a good deal of money, " he said, thoughtfully. "I'll talk to you about that some more later. " And he was off to seeStrobik none the less. 

Cowperwood knew that Stener did not have any two or three hundredthousand dollars to invest in anything. There was only one way that hecould get it--and that was to borrow it out of the city treasury andforego the interest. But he would not do that on his own initiative. Some one else must be behind him and who else other than Mollenhauer, or Simpson, or possibly even Butler, though he doubted that, unless thetriumvirate were secretly working together. But what of it? The largerpoliticians were always using the treasury, and he was thinking now, only, of his own attitude in regard to the use of this money. No harmcould come to him, if Stener's ventures were successful; and there wasno reason why they should not be. Even if they were not he would bemerely acting as an agent. In addition, he saw how in the manipulationof this money for Stener he could probably eventually control certainlines for himself. 

There was one line being laid out to within a few blocks of his newhome--the Seventeenth and Nineteenth Street line it was called--whichinterested him greatly. He rode on it occasionally when he was delayedor did not wish to trouble about a vehicle. It ran through two thrivingstreets of red-brick houses, and was destined to have a great futureonce the city grew large enough. As yet it was really not long enough. If he could get that, for instance, and combine it with Butler's lines, once they were secured--or Mollenhauer's, or Simpson's, the legislaturecould be induced to give them additional franchises. He even dreamed ofa combination between Butler, Mollenhauer, Simpson, and himself. Between them, politically, they could get anything. But Butler was not aphilanthropist. He would have to be approached with a very sizable birdin hand. The combination must be obviously advisable. Besides, he wasdealing for Butler in street-railway stocks, and if this particular linewere such a good thing Butler might wonder why it had not been broughtto him in the first place. It would be better, Frank thought, towait until he actually had it as his own, in which case it would be adifferent matter. Then he could talk as a capitalist. He began todream of a city-wide street-railway system controlled by a few men, orpreferably himself alone. 

Chapter XVII

The days that had been passing brought Frank Cowperwood and AileenButler somewhat closer together in spirit. Because of the pressure ofhis growing affairs he had not paid so much attention to her as he mighthave, but he had seen her often this past year. She was now nineteen andhad grown into some subtle thoughts of her own. For one thing, she wasbeginning to see the difference between good taste and bad taste inhouses and furnishings. 

"Papa, why do we stay in this old barn?" she asked her father oneevening at dinner, when the usual family group was seated at the table. 

"What's the matter with this house, I'd like to know?" demanded Butler, who was drawn up close to the table, his napkin tucked comfortably underhis chin, for he insisted on this when company was not present. "I don'tsee anything the matter with this house. Your mother and I manage tolive in it well enough. "

"Oh, it's terrible, papa. You know it, " supplemented Norah, who wasseventeen and quite as bright as her sister, though a little lessexperienced. "Everybody says so. Look at all the nice houses that arebeing built everywhere about here. "

"Everybody! Everybody! Who is 'everybody, ' I'd like to know?" demandedButler, with the faintest touch of choler and much humor. "I'm somebody, and I like it. Those that don't like it don't have to live in it. Whoare they? What's the matter with it, I'd like to know?"

The question in just this form had been up a number of times before, and had been handled in just this manner, or passed over entirely with ahealthy Irish grin. To-night, however, it was destined for a little moreextended thought. 

"You know it's bad, papa, " corrected Aileen, firmly. "Now what's the usegetting mad about it? It's old and cheap and dingy. The furniture is allworn out. That old piano in there ought to be given away. I won't playon it any more. The Cowperwoods--"

"Old is it!" exclaimed Butler, his accent sharpening somewhat with hisself-induced rage. He almost pronounced it "owled. " "Dingy, hi! Where doyou get that? At your convent, I suppose. And where is it worn? Show mewhere it's worn. "

He was coming to her reference to Cowperwood, but he hadn't reachedthat when Mrs. Butler interfered. She was a stout, broad-faced woman, smiling-mouthed most of the time, with blurry, gray Irish eyes, and atouch of red in her hair, now modified by grayness. Her cheek, below themouth, on the left side, was sharply accented by a large wen. 

"Children! children!" (Mr. Butler, for all his commercial and politicalresponsibility, was as much a child to her as any. ) "Youse mustn'tquarrel now. Come now. Give your father the tomatoes. "

There was an Irish maid serving at table; but plates were passed fromone to the other just the same. A heavily ornamented chandelier, holdingsixteen imitation candles in white porcelain, hung low over the tableand was brightly lighted, another offense to Aileen. 

"Mama, how often have I told you not to say 'youse'?" pleaded Norah, very much disheartened by her mother's grammatical errors. "You know yousaid you wouldn't. "

"And who's to tell your mother what she should say?" called Butler, moreincensed than ever at this sudden and unwarranted rebellion and assault. "Your mother talked before ever you was born, I'd have you know. If itweren't for her workin' and slavin' you wouldn't have any fine mannersto be paradin' before her. I'd have you know that. She's a better womannor any you'll be runnin' with this day, you little baggage, you!"

"Mama, do you hear what he's calling me?" complained Norah, huggingclose to her mother's arm and pretending fear and dissatisfaction. 

"Eddie! Eddie!" cautioned Mrs. Butler, pleading with her husband. "Youknow he don't mean that, Norah, dear. Don't you know he don't?"

She was stroking her baby's head. The reference to her grammar had nottouched her at all. 

Butler was sorry that he had called his youngest a baggage; but thesechildren--God bless his soul--were a great annoyance. Why, in the nameof all the saints, wasn't this house good enough for them?

"Why don't you people quit fussing at the table?" observed Callum, alikely youth, with black hair laid smoothly over his forehead in a long, distinguished layer reaching from his left to close to his right ear, and his upper lip carrying a short, crisp mustache. His nose was shortand retrousse, and his ears were rather prominent; but he was bright andattractive. He and Owen both realized that the house was old and poorlyarranged; but their father and mother liked it, and business sense andfamily peace dictated silence on this score. 

"Well, I think it's mean to have to live in this old place whenpeople not one-fourth as good as we are are living in better ones. TheCowperwoods--why, even the Cowperwoods--"

"Yes, the Cowperwoods! What about the Cowperwoods?" demanded Butler, turning squarely to Aileen--she was sitting beside him---his big, redface glowing. 

"Why, even they have a better house than we have, and he's merely anagent of yours. "

"The Cowperwoods! The Cowperwoods! I'll not have any talk about theCowperwoods. I'm not takin' my rules from the Cowperwoods. Suppose theyhave a fine house, what of it? My house is my house. I want to livehere. I've lived here too long to be pickin' up and movin' away. If youdon't like it you know what else you can do. Move if you want to. I'llnot move. "

It was Butler's habit when he became involved in these familyquarrels, which were as shallow as puddles, to wave his hands ratherantagonistically under his wife's or his children's noses. 

"Oh, well, I will get out one of these days, " Aileen replied. "Thankheaven I won't have to live here forever. "

There flashed across her mind the beautiful reception-room, library, parlor, and boudoirs of the Cowperwoods, which were now being arrangedand about which Anna Cowperwood talked to her so much--their dainty, lovely triangular grand piano in gold and painted pink and blue. Whycouldn't they have things like that? Her father was unquestionably adozen times as wealthy. But no, her father, whom she loved dearly, wasof the old school. He was just what people charged him with being, arough Irish contractor. He might be rich. She flared up at the injusticeof things--why couldn't he have been rich and refined, too? Then theycould have--but, oh, what was the use of complaining? They would neverget anywhere with her father and mother in charge. She would just haveto wait. Marriage was the answer--the right marriage. But whom was sheto marry?

"You surely are not going to go on fighting about that now, " pleadedMrs. Butler, as strong and patient as fate itself. She knew whereAileen's trouble lay. 

"But we might have a decent house, " insisted Aileen. "Or this one doneover, " whispered Norah to her mother. 

"Hush now! In good time, " replied Mrs. Butler to Norah. "Wait. We'llfix it all up some day, sure. You run to your lessons now. You've hadenough. "

Norah arose and left. Aileen subsided. Her father was simply stubbornand impossible. And yet he was sweet, too. She pouted in order to compelhim to apologize. 

"Come now, " he said, after they had left the table, and conscious of thefact that his daughter was dissatisfied with him. He must do somethingto placate her. "Play me somethin' on the piano, somethin' nice. " Hepreferred showy, clattery things which exhibited her skill and muscularability and left him wondering how she did it. That was what educationwas for--to enable her to play these very difficult things quickly andforcefully. "And you can have a new piano any time you like. Go and seeabout it. This looks pretty good to me, but if you don't want it, allright. " Aileen squeezed his arm. What was the use of arguing with herfather? What good would a lone piano do, when the whole house andthe whole family atmosphere were at fault? But she played Schumann, Schubert, Offenbach, Chopin, and the old gentleman strolled to andfro and mused, smiling. There was real feeling and a thoughtfulinterpretation given to some of these things, for Aileen was not withoutsentiment, though she was so strong, vigorous, and withal so defiant;but it was all lost on him. He looked on her, his bright, healthy, enticingly beautiful daughter, and wondered what was going to become ofher. Some rich man was going to many her--some fine, rich young man withgood business instincts--and he, her father, would leave her a lot ofmoney. 

There was a reception and a dance to be given to celebrate theopening of the two Cowperwood homes--the reception to be held in FrankCowperwood's residence, and the dance later at his father's. The HenryCowperwood domicile was much more pretentious, the reception-room, parlor, music-room, and conservatory being in this case all on theground floor and much larger. Ellsworth had arranged it so that thoserooms, on occasion, could be thrown into one, leaving excellent spacefor promenade, auditorium, dancing--anything, in fact, that a largecompany might require. It had been the intention all along of the twomen to use these houses jointly. There was, to begin with, a combinationuse of the various servants, the butler, gardener, laundress, and maids. Frank Cowperwood employed a governess for his children. The butler wasreally not a butler in the best sense. He was Henry Cowperwood's privateservitor. But he could carve and preside, and he could be used in eitherhouse as occasion warranted. There was also a hostler and a coachman forthe joint stable. When two carriages were required at once, both drove. It made a very agreeable and satisfactory working arrangement. 

The preparation of this reception had been quite a matter of importance, for it was necessary for financial reasons to make it as extensive aspossible, and for social reasons as exclusive. It was therefore decidedthat the afternoon reception at Frank's house, with its natural overflowinto Henry W. 's, was to be for all--the Tighes, Steners, Butlers, Mollenhauers, as well as the more select groups to which, for instance, belonged Arthur Rivers, Mrs. Seneca Davis, Mr. And Mrs. Trenor Drake, and some of the younger Drexels and Clarks, whom Frank had met. It wasnot likely that the latter would condescend, but cards had to be sent. Later in the evening a less democratic group if possible was to beentertained, albeit it would have to be extended to include the friendsof Anna, Mrs. Cowperwood, Edward, and Joseph, and any list which Frankmight personally have in mind. This was to be the list. The best thatcould be persuaded, commanded, or influenced of the young and sociallyelect were to be invited here. 

It was not possible, however, not to invite the Butlers, parents andchildren, particularly the children, for both afternoon and evening, since Cowperwood was personally attracted to Aileen and despite thefact that the presence of the parents would be most unsatisfactory. EvenAileen as he knew was a little unsatisfactory to Anna and Mrs. FrankCowperwood; and these two, when they were together supervising the listof invitations, often talked about it. 

"She's so hoidenish, " observed Anna, to her sister-in-law, when theycame to the name of Aileen. "She thinks she knows so much, and she isn'ta bit refined. Her father! Well, if I had her father I wouldn't talk sosmart. "

Mrs. Cowperwood, who was before her secretaire in her new boudoir, lifted her eyebrows. 

"You know, Anna, I sometimes wish that Frank's business did not compelme to have anything to do with them. Mrs. Butler is such a bore. Shemeans well enough, but she doesn't know anything. And Aileen is toorough. She's too forward, I think. She comes over here and plays uponthe piano, particularly when Frank's here. I wouldn't mind so much formyself, but I know it must annoy him. All her pieces are so noisy. Shenever plays anything really delicate and refined. "

"I don't like the way she dresses, " observed Anna, sympathetically. "She gets herself up too conspicuously. Now, the other day I saw her outdriving, and oh, dear! you should have seen her! She had on a crimsonZouave jacket heavily braided with black about the edges, and a turbanwith a huge crimson feather, and crimson ribbons reaching nearly to herwaist. Imagine that kind of a hat to drive in. And her hands! You shouldhave seen the way she held her hands--oh--just so--self-consciously. They were curved just so"--and she showed how. "She had on yellowgauntlets, and she held the reins in one hand and the whip in the other. She drives just like mad when she drives, anyhow, and William, thefootman, was up behind her. You should just have seen her. Oh, dear!oh, dear! she does think she is so much!" And Anna giggled, half inreproach, half in amusement. 

"I suppose we'll have to invite her; I don't see how we can get out ofit. I know just how she'll do, though. She'll walk about and pose andhold her nose up. "

"Really, I don't see how she can, " commented Anna. "Now, I like Norah. She's much nicer. She doesn't think she's so much. "

"I like Norah, too, " added Mrs. Cowperwood. "She's really very sweet, and to me she's prettier. "

"Oh, indeed, I think so, too. "

It was curious, though, that it was Aileen who commanded nearly alltheir attention and fixed their minds on her so-called idiosyncrasies. All they said was in its peculiar way true; but in addition the girl wasreally beautiful and much above the average intelligence and force. Shewas running deep with ambition, and she was all the more conspicuous, and in a way irritating to some, because she reflected in her ownconsciousness her social defects, against which she was inwardlyfighting. She resented the fact that people could justly consider herparents ineligible, and for that reason her also. She was intrinsicallyas worth while as any one. Cowperwood, so able, and rapidly becoming sodistinguished, seemed to realize it. The days that had been passing hadbrought them somewhat closer together in spirit. He was nice to her andliked to talk to her. Whenever he was at her home now, or she was at hisand he was present, he managed somehow to say a word. He would come overquite near and look at her in a warm friendly fashion. 

"Well, Aileen"--she could see his genial eyes--"how is it with you? Howare your father and mother? Been out driving? That's fine. I saw youto-day. You looked beautiful. "

"Oh, Mr. Cowperwood!"

"You did. You looked stunning. A black riding-habit becomes you. I cantell your gold hair a long way off. "

"Oh, now, you mustn't say that to me. You'll make me vain. My mother andfather tell me I'm too vain as it is. "

"Never mind your mother and father. I say you looked stunning, and youdid. You always do. "

"Oh!"

She gave a little gasp of delight. The color mounted to her cheeks andtemples. Mr. Cowperwood knew of course. He was so informed and intenselyforceful. And already he was so much admired by so many, her own fatherand mother included, and by Mr. Mollenhauer and Mr. Simpson, so sheheard. And his own home and office were so beautiful. Besides, his quietintensity matched her restless force. 

Aileen and her sister were accordingly invited to the reception but theButlers mere and pere were given to understand, in as tactful a manneras possible, that the dance afterward was principally for young people. 

The reception brought a throng of people. There were many, very many, introductions. There were tactful descriptions of little effects Mr. Ellsworth had achieved under rather trying circumstances; walks underthe pergola; viewings of both homes in detail. Many of the guests wereold friends. They gathered in the libraries and dining-rooms andtalked. There was much jesting, some slappings of shoulders, some goodstory-telling, and so the afternoon waned into evening, and they wentaway. 

Aileen had created an impression in a street costume of dark blue silkwith velvet pelisse to match, and trimmed with elaborate pleatings andshirrings of the same materials. A toque of blue velvet, with high crownand one large dark-red imitation orchid, had given her a jaunty, dashingair. Beneath the toque her red-gold hair was arranged in an enormouschignon, with one long curl escaping over her collar. She was notexactly as daring as she seemed, but she loved to give that impression. 

"You look wonderful, " Cowperwood said as she passed him. 

"I'll look different to-night, " was her answer. 

She had swung herself with a slight, swaggering stride into thedining-room and disappeared. Norah and her mother stayed to chat withMrs. Cowperwood. 

"Well, it's lovely now, isn't it?" breathed Mrs. Butler. "Sure you'll behappy here. Sure you will. When Eddie fixed the house we're in now, saysI: 'Eddie, it's almost too fine for us altogether--surely it is, ' and hesays, says 'e, 'Norah, nothin' this side o' heavin or beyond is toogood for ye'--and he kissed me. Now what d'ye think of that fer a big, hulkin' gossoon?"

"It's perfectly lovely, I think, Mrs. Butler, " commented Mrs. Cowperwood, a little bit nervous because of others. 

"Mama does love to talk so. Come on, mama. Let's look at thedining-room. " It was Norah talking. 

"Well, may ye always be happy in it. I wish ye that. I've always beenhappy in mine. May ye always be happy. " And she waddled good-naturedlyalong. 

The Cowperwood family dined hastily alone between seven and eight. Atnine the evening guests began to arrive, and now the throng was of adifferent complexion--girls in mauve and cream-white and salmon-pink andsilver-gray, laying aside lace shawls and loose dolmans, and the men insmooth black helping them. Outside in the cold, the carriage doors wereslamming, and new guests were arriving constantly. Mrs. Cowperwood stoodwith her husband and Anna in the main entrance to the reception room, while Joseph and Edward Cowperwood and Mr. And Mrs. Henry W. Cowperwoodlingered in the background. Lillian looked charming in a train gown ofold rose, with a low, square neck showing a delicate chemisette of finelace. Her face and figure were still notable, though her face was not assmoothly sweet as it had been years before when Cowperwood had first mether. Anna Cowperwood was not pretty, though she could not be said to behomely. She was small and dark, with a turned-up nose, snapping blackeyes, a pert, inquisitive, intelligent, and alas, somewhat critical, air. She had considerable tact in the matter of dressing. Black, inspite of her darkness, with shining beads of sequins on it, helped hercomplexion greatly, as did a red rose in her hair. She had smooth, whitewell-rounded arms and shoulders. Bright eyes, a pert manner, cleverremarks--these assisted to create an illusion of charm, though, as sheoften said, it was of little use. "Men want the dolly things. "

In the evening inpour of young men and women came Aileen and Norah, theformer throwing off a thin net veil of black lace and a dolman of blacksilk, which her brother Owen took from her. Norah was with Callum, astraight, erect, smiling young Irishman, who looked as though he mightcarve a notable career for himself. She wore a short, girlish dress thatcame to a little below her shoe-tops, a pale-figured lavender and whitesilk, with a fluffy hoop-skirt of dainty laced-edged ruffles, againstwhich tiny bows of lavender stood out in odd places. There was a greatsash of lavender about her waist, and in her hair a rosette of the samecolor. She looked exceedingly winsome--eager and bright-eyed. 

But behind her was her sister in ravishing black satin, scaled as a fishwith glistening crimsoned-silver sequins, her round, smooth arms bareto the shoulders, her corsage cut as low in the front and back as herdaring, in relation to her sense of the proprieties, permitted. She wasnaturally of exquisite figure, erect, full-breasted, with somewhat morethan gently swelling hips, which, nevertheless, melted into lovely, harmonious lines; and this low-cut corsage, receding back and front intoa deep V, above a short, gracefully draped overskirt of black tulleand silver tissue, set her off to perfection. Her full, smooth, roundlymodeled neck was enhanced in its cream-pink whiteness by an inch-widenecklet of black jet cut in many faceted black squares. Her complexion, naturally high in tone because of the pink of health, was enhanced bythe tiniest speck of black court-plaster laid upon her cheekbone; andher hair, heightened in its reddish-gold by her dress, was fluffedloosely and adroitly about her eyes. The main mass of this treasure wasdone in two loose braids caught up in a black spangled net at the backof her neck; and her eyebrows had been emphasized by a pencil intosomething almost as significant as her hair. She was, for the occasion, a little too emphatic, perhaps, and yet more because of her burningvitality than of her costume. Art for her should have meant subduingher physical and spiritual significance. Life for her meant emphasizingthem. 

"Lillian!" Anna nudged her sister-in-law. She was grieved to think thatAileen was wearing black and looked so much better than either of them. 

"I see, " Lillian replied, in a subdued tone. 

"So you're back again. " She was addressing Aileen. "It's chilly out, isn't it?"

"I don't mind. Don't the rooms look lovely?"

She was gazing at the softly lighted chambers and the throng before her. 

Norah began to babble to Anna. "You know, I just thought I never wouldget this old thing on. " She was speaking of her dress. "Aileen wouldn'thelp me--the mean thing!"

Aileen had swept on to Cowperwood and his mother, who was near him. Shehad removed from her arm the black satin ribbon which held her train andkicked the skirts loose and free. Her eyes gleamed almost pleadinglyfor all her hauteur, like a spirited collie's, and her even teeth showedbeautifully. 

Cowperwood understood her precisely, as he did any fine, spiritedanimal. 

"I can't tell you how nice you look, " he whispered to her, familiarly, as though there was an old understanding between them. "You're like fireand song. "

He did not know why he said this. He was not especially poetic. He hadnot formulated the phrase beforehand. Since his first glimpse of herin the hall, his feelings and ideas had been leaping and plunging likespirited horses. This girl made him set his teeth and narrow his eyes. Involuntarily he squared his jaw, looking more defiant, forceful, efficient, as she drew near. 

But Aileen and her sister were almost instantly surrounded by young menseeking to be introduced and to write their names on dance-cards, andfor the time being she was lost to view. 

Chapter XVIII

The seeds of change--subtle, metaphysical--are rooted deeply. From thefirst mention of the dance by Mrs. Cowperwood and Anna, Aileen had beenconscious of a desire toward a more effective presentation of herselfthan as yet, for all her father's money, she had been able to achieve. The company which she was to encounter, as she well knew, was to be somuch more impressive, distinguished than anything she had heretoforeknown socially. Then, too, Cowperwood appeared as something moredefinite in her mind than he had been before, and to save herself shecould not get him out of her consciousness. 

A vision of him had come to her but an hour before as she was dressing. In a way she had dressed for him. She was never forgetful of the timeshe had looked at her in an interested way. He had commented on her handsonce. To-day he had said that she looked "stunning, " and she had thoughthow easy it would be to impress him to-night--to show him how trulybeautiful she was. 

She had stood before her mirror between eight and nine--it wasnine-fifteen before she was really ready--and pondered over what sheshould wear. There were two tall pier-glasses in her wardrobe--an undulylarge piece of furniture--and one in her closet door. She stood beforethe latter, looking at her bare arms and shoulders, her shapely figure, thinking of the fact that her left shoulder had a dimple, and that shehad selected garnet garters decorated with heart-shaped silver buckles. The corset could not be made quite tight enough at first, and she chidedher maid, Kathleen Kelly. She studied how to arrange her hair, and therewas much ado about that before it was finally adjusted. She penciled hereyebrows and plucked at the hair about her forehead to make it looseand shadowy. She cut black court-plaster with her nail-shears and trieddifferent-sized pieces in different places. Finally, she found one sizeand one place that suited her. She turned her head from side to side, looking at the combined effect of her hair, her penciled brows, herdimpled shoulder, and the black beauty-spot. If some one man could seeher as she was now, some time! Which man? That thought scurried backlike a frightened rat into its hole. She was, for all her strength, afraid of the thought of the one--the very deadly--the man. 

And then she came to the matter of a train-gown. Kathleen laid out five, for Aileen had come into the joy and honor of these things recently, andshe had, with the permission of her mother and father, indulgedherself to the full. She studied a golden-yellow silk, with cream-laceshoulder-straps, and some gussets of garnet beads in the train thatshimmered delightfully, but set it aside. She considered favorably ablack-and-white striped silk of odd gray effect, and, though she wassorely tempted to wear it, finally let it go. There was a maroon dress, with basque and overskirt over white silk; a rich cream-colored satin;and then this black sequined gown, which she finally chose. She triedon the cream-colored satin first, however, being in much doubt about it;but her penciled eyes and beauty-spot did not seem to harmonize withit. Then she put on the black silk with its glistening crimsoned-silversequins, and, lo, it touched her. She liked its coquettish drapery oftulle and silver about the hips. The "overskirt, " which was at that timejust coming into fashion, though avoided by the more conservative, hadbeen adopted by Aileen with enthusiasm. She thrilled a little at therustle of this black dress, and thrust her chin and nose forward to makeit set right. Then after having Kathleen tighten her corsets a littlemore, she gathered the train over her arm by its train-band and lookedagain. Something was wanting. Oh, yes, her neck! What to wear--redcoral? It did not look right. A string of pearls? That would not doeither. There was a necklace made of small cameos set in silver whichher mother had purchased, and another of diamonds which belonged to hermother, but they were not right. Finally, her jet necklet, which shedid not value very highly, came into her mind, and, oh, how lovely itlooked! How soft and smooth and glistening her chin looked above it. Shecaressed her neck affectionately, called for her black lace mantilla, her long, black silk dolman lined with red, and she was ready. 

The ball-room, as she entered, was lovely enough. The young men andyoung women she saw there were interesting, and she was not wantingfor admirers. The most aggressive of these youths--the mostforceful--recognized in this maiden a fillip to life, a sting toexistence. She was as a honey-jar surrounded by too hungry flies. 

But it occurred to her, as her dance-list was filling up, that there wasnot much left for Mr. Cowperwood, if he should care to dance with her. 

Cowperwood was meditating, as he received the last of the guests, on thesubtlety of this matter of the sex arrangement of life. Two sexes. Hewas not at all sure that there was any law governing them. By comparisonnow with Aileen Butler, his wife looked rather dull, quite too old, andwhen he was ten years older she would look very much older. 

"Oh, yes, Ellsworth had made quite an attractive arrangement out ofthese two houses--better than we ever thought he could do. " He wastalking to Henry Hale Sanderson, a young banker. "He had the advantageof combining two into one, and I think he's done more with my littleone, considering the limitations of space, than he has with this bigone. Father's has the advantage of size. I tell the old gentleman he'ssimply built a lean-to for me. "

His father and a number of his cronies were over in the dining-room ofhis grand home, glad to get away from the crowd. He would have to stay, and, besides, he wanted to. Had he better dance with Aileen? His wifecared little for dancing, but he would have to dance with her at leastonce. There was Mrs. Seneca Davis smiling at him, and Aileen. By George, how wonderful! What a girl!

"I suppose your dance-list is full to overflowing. Let me see. " He wasstanding before her and she was holding out the little blue-bordered, gold-monogrammed booklet. An orchestra was playing in the music room. The dance would begin shortly. There were delicately constructed, gold-tinted chairs about the walls and behind palms. 

He looked down into her eyes--those excited, life-loving, eager eyes. 

"You're quite full up. Let me see. Nine, ten, eleven. Well, that will beenough. I don't suppose I shall want to dance very much. It's nice to bepopular. "

"I'm not sure about number three. I think that's a mistake. You mighthave that if you wish. "

She was falsifying. 

"It doesn't matter so much about him, does it?"

His cheeks flushed a little as he said this. 

"No. "

Her own flamed. 

"Well, I'll see where you are when it's called. You're darling. I'mafraid of you. " He shot a level, interpretive glance into her eyes, thenleft. Aileen's bosom heaved. It was hard to breathe sometimes in thiswarm air. 

While he was dancing first with Mrs. Cowperwood and later with Mrs. Seneca Davis, and still later with Mrs. Martyn Walker, Cowperwood hadoccasion to look at Aileen often, and each time that he did so thereswept over him a sense of great vigor there, of beautiful if raw, dynamic energy that to him was irresistible and especially so to-night. She was so young. She was beautiful, this girl, and in spite of hiswife's repeated derogatory comments he felt that she was nearer to hisclear, aggressive, unblinking attitude than any one whom he had yet seenin the form of woman. She was unsophisticated, in a way, that was plain, and yet in another way it would take so little to make her understand somuch. Largeness was the sense he had of her--not physically, though shewas nearly as tall as himself--but emotionally. She seemed so intenselyalive. She passed close to him a number of times, her eyes wide andsmiling, her lips parted, her teeth agleam, and he felt a stirringof sympathy and companionship for her which he had not previouslyexperienced. She was lovely, all of her--delightful. 

"I'm wondering if that dance is open now, " he said to her as he drewnear toward the beginning of the third set. She was seated with herlatest admirer in a far corner of the general living-room, a clear floornow waxed to perfection. A few palms here and there made embrasuredparapets of green. "I hope you'll excuse me, " he added, deferentially, to her companion. 

"Surely, " the latter replied, rising. 

"Yes, indeed, " she replied. "And you'd better stay here with me. It'sgoing to begin soon. You won't mind?" she added, giving her companion aradiant smile. 

"Not at all. I've had a lovely waltz. " He strolled off. 

Cowperwood sat down. "That's young Ledoux, isn't it? I thought so. I sawyou dancing. You like it, don't you?"

"I'm crazy about it. "

"Well, I can't say that myself. It's fascinating, though. Your partnermakes such a difference. Mrs. Cowperwood doesn't like it as much as Ido. "

His mention of Lillian made Aileen think of her in a faintly derogativeway for a moment. 

"I think you dance very well. I watched you, too. " She questionedafterwards whether she should have said this. It sounded most forwardnow--almost brazen. 

"Oh, did you?"

"Yes. "

He was a little keyed up because of her--slightly cloudy in histhoughts--because she was generating a problem in his life, or wouldif he let her, and so his talk was a little tame. He was thinking ofsomething to say--some words which would bring them a little nearertogether. But for the moment he could not. Truth to tell, he wanted tosay a great deal. 

"Well, that was nice of you, " he added, after a moment. "What made youdo it?"

He turned with a mock air of inquiry. The music was beginning again. Thedancers were rising. He arose. 

He had not intended to give this particular remark a serious turn; but, now that she was so near him, he looked into her eyes steadily but witha soft appeal and said, "Yes, why?"

They had come out from behind the palms. He had put his hand to herwaist. His right arm held her left extended arm to arm, palm to palm. Her right hand was on his shoulder, and she was close to him, lookinginto his eyes. As they began the gay undulations of the waltz she lookedaway and then down without answering. Her movements were as lightand airy as those of a butterfly. He felt a sudden lightness himself, communicated as by an invisible current. He wanted to match thesuppleness of her body with his own, and did. Her arms, the flash andglint of the crimson sequins against the smooth, black silk of herclosely fitting dress, her neck, her glowing, radiant hair, all combinedto provoke a slight intellectual intoxication. She was so vigorouslyyoung, so, to him, truly beautiful. 

"But you didn't answer, " he continued. 

"Isn't this lovely music?"

He pressed her fingers. 

She lifted shy eyes to him now, for, in spite of her gay, aggressiveforce, she was afraid of him. His personality was obviously sodominating. Now that he was so close to her, dancing, she conceivedof him as something quite wonderful, and yet she experienced a nervousreaction--a momentary desire to run away. 

"Very well, if you won't tell me, " he smiled, mockingly. 

He thought she wanted him to talk to her so, to tease her withsuggestions of this concealed feeling of his--this strong liking. Hewondered what could come of any such understanding as this, anyhow?

"Oh, I just wanted to see how you danced, " she said, tamely, the forceof her original feeling having been weakened by a thought of what shewas doing. He noted the change and smiled. It was lovely to be dancingwith her. He had not thought mere dancing could hold such charm. 

"You like me?" he said, suddenly, as the music drew to its close. 

She thrilled from head to toe at the question. A piece of ice droppeddown her back could not have startled her more. It was apparentlytactless, and yet it was anything but tactless. She looked up quickly, directly, but his strong eyes were too much for her. 

"Why, yes, " she answered, as the music stopped, trying to keep an eventone to her voice. She was glad they were walking toward a chair. 

"I like you so much, " he said, "that I have been wondering if you reallylike me. " There was an appeal in his voice, soft and gentle. His mannerwas almost sad. 

"Why, yes, " she replied, instantly, returning to her earlier mood towardhim. "You know I do. "

"I need some one like you to like me, " he continued, in the same vein. "I need some one like you to talk to. I didn't think so before--but nowI do. You are beautiful--wonderful. "

"We mustn't, " she said. "I mustn't. I don't know what I'm doing. "She looked at a young man strolling toward her, and asked: "I have toexplain to him. He's the one I had this dance with. "

Cowperwood understood. He walked away. He was quite warm and tensenow--almost nervous. It was quite clear to him that he had done or wascontemplating perhaps a very treacherous thing. Under the current codeof society he had no right to do it. It was against the rules, asthey were understood by everybody. Her father, for instance--hisfather--every one in this particular walk of life. However, muchbreaking of the rules under the surface of things there might be, therules were still there. As he had heard one young man remark once atschool, when some story had been told of a boy leading a girl astray andto a disastrous end, "That isn't the way at all. "

Still, now that he had said this, strong thoughts of her were in hismind. And despite his involved social and financial position, which henow recalled, it was interesting to him to see how deliberately and evencalculatingly--and worse, enthusiastically--he was pumping the bellowsthat tended only to heighten the flames of his desire for this girl; tofeed a fire that might ultimately consume him--and how deliberately andresourcefully!

Aileen toyed aimlessly with her fan as a black-haired, thin-faced younglaw student talked to her, and seeing Norah in the distance she asked tobe allowed to run over to her. 

"Oh, Aileen, " called Norah, "I've been looking for you everywhere. Wherehave you been?"

"Dancing, of course. Where do you suppose I've been? Didn't you see meon the floor?"

"No, I didn't, " complained Norah, as though it were most essential thatshe should. "How late are you going to stay?"

"Until it's over, I suppose. I don't know. "

"Owen says he's going at twelve. "

"Well, that doesn't matter. Some one will take me home. Are you having agood time?"

"Fine. Oh, let me tell you. I stepped on a lady's dress over there, lastdance. She was terribly angry. She gave me such a look. "

"Well, never mind, honey. She won't hurt you. Where are you going now?"

Aileen always maintained a most guardian-like attitude toward hersister. 

"I want to find Callum. He has to dance with me next time. I know whathe's trying to do. He's trying to get away from me. But he won't. "

Aileen smiled. Norah looked very sweet. And she was so bright. Whatwould she think of her if she knew? She turned back, and her fourthpartner sought her. She began talking gayly, for she felt that she hadto make a show of composure; but all the while there was ringing in herears that definite question of his, "You like me, don't you?" and herlater uncertain but not less truthful answer, "Yes, of course I do. "

Chapter XIX

The growth of a passion is a very peculiar thing. In highly organizedintellectual and artistic types it is so often apt to begin withkeen appreciation of certain qualities, modified by many, many mentalreservations. The egoist, the intellectual, gives but little of himselfand asks much. Nevertheless, the lover of life, male or female, findinghimself or herself in sympathetic accord with such a nature, is apt togain much. 

Cowperwood was innately and primarily an egoist and intellectual, thoughblended strongly therewith, was a humane and democratic spirit. We thinkof egoism and intellectualism as closely confined to the arts. Financeis an art. And it presents the operations of the subtlest of theintellectuals and of the egoists. Cowperwood was a financier. Insteadof dwelling on the works of nature, its beauty and subtlety, to hismaterial disadvantage, he found a happy mean, owing to the swiftnessof his intellectual operations, whereby he could, intellectually andemotionally, rejoice in the beauty of life without interfering with hisperpetual material and financial calculations. And when it came to womenand morals, which involved so much relating to beauty, happiness, asense of distinction and variety in living, he was but now beginningto suspect for himself at least that apart from maintaining organizedsociety in its present form there was no basis for this one-life, one-love idea. How had it come about that so many people agreed on thissingle point, that it was good and necessary to marry one woman andcleave to her until death? He did not know. It was not for him to botherabout the subtleties of evolution, which even then was being noisedabroad, or to ferret out the curiosities of history in connection withthis matter. He had no time. Suffice it that the vagaries of temperamentand conditions with which he came into immediate contact proved to himthat there was great dissatisfaction with that idea. People did notcleave to each other until death; and in thousands of cases wherethey did, they did not want to. Quickness of mind, subtlety of idea, fortuitousness of opportunity, made it possible for some people to righttheir matrimonial and social infelicities; whereas for others, becauseof dullness of wit, thickness of comprehension, poverty, and lack ofcharm, there was no escape from the slough of their despond. Theywere compelled by some devilish accident of birth or lack of forceor resourcefulness to stew in their own juice of wretchedness, or toshuffle off this mortal coil--which under other circumstances had suchglittering possibilities--via the rope, the knife, the bullet, or thecup of poison. 

"I would die, too, " he thought to himself, one day, reading of a manwho, confined by disease and poverty, had lived for twelve years alonein a back bedroom attended by an old and probably decrepit housekeeper. A darning-needle forced into his heart had ended his earthly woes. "Tothe devil with such a life! Why twelve years? Why not at the end of thesecond or third?"

Again, it was so very evident, in so many ways, that force was theanswer--great mental and physical force. Why, these giants of commerceand money could do as they pleased in this life, and did. He had alreadyhad ample local evidence of it in more than one direction. Worse--thelittle guardians of so-called law and morality, the newspapers, thepreachers, the police, and the public moralists generally, so loud intheir denunciation of evil in humble places, were cowards all when itcame to corruption in high ones. They did not dare to utter a feeblesqueak until some giant had accidentally fallen and they could doso without danger to themselves. Then, O Heavens, the palaver!What beatings of tom-toms! What mouthings of pharisaicalmoralities--platitudes! Run now, good people, for you may see clearlyhow evil is dealt with in high places! It made him smile. Suchhypocrisy! Such cant! Still, so the world was organized, and it was notfor him to set it right. Let it wag as it would. The thing for him todo was to get rich and hold his own--to build up a seeming of virtue anddignity which would pass muster for the genuine thing. Force would dothat. Quickness of wit. And he had these. "I satisfy myself, " was hismotto; and it might well have been emblazoned upon any coat of armswhich he could have contrived to set forth his claim to intellectual andsocial nobility. 

But this matter of Aileen was up for consideration and solution at thispresent moment, and because of his forceful, determined character hewas presently not at all disturbed by the problem it presented. It wasa problem, like some of those knotty financial complications whichpresented themselves daily; but it was not insoluble. What did he wantto do? He couldn't leave his wife and fly with Aileen, that was certain. He had too many connections. He had too many social, and thinking of hischildren and parents, emotional as well as financial ties to bind him. Besides, he was not at all sure that he wanted to. He did not intend toleave his growing interests, and at the same time he did not intend togive up Aileen immediately. The unheralded manifestation of intereston her part was too attractive. Mrs. Cowperwood was no longer whatshe should be physically and mentally, and that in itself to him wassufficient to justify his present interest in this girl. Why fearanything, if only he could figure out a way to achieve it without harmto himself? At the same time he thought it might never be possible forhim to figure out any practical or protective program for either himselfor Aileen, and that made him silent and reflective. For by now he wasintensely drawn to her, as he could feel--something chemic and hencedynamic was uppermost in him now and clamoring for expression. 

At the same time, in contemplating his wife in connection with allthis, he had many qualms, some emotional, some financial. While she hadyielded to his youthful enthusiasm for her after her husband's death, he had only since learned that she was a natural conservator of publicmorals--the cold purity of the snowdrift in so far as the world mightsee, combined at times with the murky mood of the wanton. And yet, as hehad also learned, she was ashamed of the passion that at times swept anddominated her. This irritated Cowperwood, as it would always irritateany strong, acquisitive, direct-seeing temperament. While he had nodesire to acquaint the whole world with his feelings, why should therebe concealment between them, or at least mental evasion of a fact whichphysically she subscribed to? Why do one thing and think another? To besure, she was devoted to him in her quiet way, not passionately (ashe looked back he could not say that she had ever been that), butintellectually. Duty, as she understood it, played a great part in this. She was dutiful. And then what people thought, what the time-spiritdemanded--these were the great things. Aileen, on the contrary, wasprobably not dutiful, and it was obvious that she had no temperamentalconnection with current convention. No doubt she had been as wellinstructed as many another girl, but look at her. She was not obeyingher instructions. 

In the next three months this relationship took on a more flagrant form. Aileen, knowing full well what her parents would think, how unspeakablein the mind of the current world were the thoughts she was thinking, persisted, nevertheless, in so thinking and longing. Cowperwood, nowthat she had gone thus far and compromised herself in intention, if notin deed, took on a peculiar charm for her. It was not his body--greatpassion is never that, exactly. The flavor of his spirit was whatattracted and compelled, like the glow of a flame to a moth. There wasa light of romance in his eyes, which, however governed andcontrolled--was directive and almost all-powerful to her. 

When he touched her hand at parting, it was as though she had receivedan electric shock, and she recalled that it was very difficult for herto look directly into his eyes. Something akin to a destructive forceseemed to issue from them at times. Other people, men particularly, found it difficult to face Cowperwood's glazed stare. It was as thoughthere were another pair of eyes behind those they saw, watching throughthin, obscuring curtains. You could not tell what he was thinking. 

And during the next few months she found herself coming closer andcloser to Cowperwood. At his home one evening, seated at the piano, noone else being present at the moment, he leaned over and kissed her. There was a cold, snowy street visible through the interstices of thehangings of the windows, and gas-lamps flickering outside. He had comein early, and hearing Aileen, he came to where she was seated at thepiano. She was wearing a rough, gray wool cloth dress, ornately bandedwith fringed Oriental embroidery in blue and burnt-orange, and herbeauty was further enhanced by a gray hat planned to match her dress, with a plume of shaded orange and blue. On her fingers were four orfive rings, far too many--an opal, an emerald, a ruby, and adiamond--flashing visibly as she played. 

She knew it was he, without turning. He came beside her, and she lookedup smiling, the reverie evoked by Schubert partly vanishing--or meltinginto another mood. Suddenly he bent over and pressed his lips firmlyto hers. His mustache thrilled her with its silky touch. She stoppedplaying and tried to catch her breath, for, strong as she was, itaffected her breathing. Her heart was beating like a triphammer. She didnot say, "Oh, " or, "You mustn't, " but rose and walked over to a window, where she lifted a curtain, pretending to look out. She felt as thoughshe might faint, so intensely happy was she. 

Cowperwood followed her quickly. Slipping his arms about her waist, helooked at her flushed cheeks, her clear, moist eyes and red mouth. 

"You love me?" he whispered, stern and compelling because of his desire. 

"Yes! Yes! You know I do. "

He crushed her face to his, and she put up her hands and stroked hishair. 

A thrilling sense of possession, mastery, happiness and understanding, love of her and of her body, suddenly overwhelmed him. 

"I love you, " he said, as though he were surprised to hear himself sayit. "I didn't think I did, but I do. You're beautiful. I'm wild aboutyou. "

"And I love you" she answered. "I can't help it. I know I shouldn't, but--oh--" Her hands closed tight over his ears and temples. She put herlips to his and dreamed into his eyes. Then she stepped away quickly, looking out into the street, and he walked back into the living-room. They were quite alone. He was debating whether he should risk anythingfurther when Norah, having been in to see Anna next door, appeared andnot long afterward Mrs. Cowperwood. Then Aileen and Norah left. 

Chapter XX

This definite and final understanding having been reached, it wasbut natural that this liaison should proceed to a closer and closerrelationship. Despite her religious upbringing, Aileen was decidedly avictim of her temperament. Current religious feeling and belief couldnot control her. For the past nine or ten years there had been slowlyforming in her mind a notion of what her lover should be like. He shouldbe strong, handsome, direct, successful, with clear eyes, a ruddy glowof health, and a certain native understanding and sympathy--a love oflife which matched her own. Many young men had approached her. Perhapsthe nearest realization of her ideal was Father David, of St. Timothy's, and he was, of course, a priest and sworn to celibacy. No word had everpassed between them but he had been as conscious of her as she of him. Then came Frank Cowperwood, and by degrees, because of his presence andcontact, he had been slowly built up in her mind as the ideal person. She was drawn as planets are drawn to their sun. 

It is a question as to what would have happened if antagonistic forcescould have been introduced just at this time. Emotions and liaisons ofthis character can, of course, occasionally be broken up and destroyed. The characters of the individuals can be modified or changed to acertain extent, but the force must be quite sufficient. Fear is a greatdeterrent--fear of material loss where there is no spiritual dread--butwealth and position so often tend to destroy this dread. It is so easyto scheme with means. Aileen had no spiritual dread whatever. Cowperwoodwas without spiritual or religious feeling. He looked at this girl, and his one thought was how could he so deceive the world that he couldenjoy her love and leave his present state undisturbed. Love her he didsurely. 

Business necessitated his calling at the Butlers' quite frequently, andon each occasion he saw Aileen. She managed to slip forward and squeezehis hand the first time he came--to steal a quick, vivid kiss; andanother time, as he was going out, she suddenly appeared from behind thecurtains hanging at the parlor door. 

"Honey!"

The voice was soft and coaxing. He turned, giving her a warning nod inthe direction of her father's room upstairs. 

She stood there, holding out one hand, and he stepped forward for asecond. Instantly her arms were about his neck, as he slipped his abouther waist. 

"I long to see you so. "

"I, too. I'll fix some way. I'm thinking. "

He released her arms, and went out, and she ran to the window and lookedout after him. He was walking west on the street, for his house was onlya few blocks away, and she looked at the breadth of his shoulders, thebalance of his form. He stepped so briskly, so incisively. Ah, this wasa man! He was her Frank. She thought of him in that light already. Thenshe sat down at the piano and played pensively until dinner. 

And it was so easy for the resourceful mind of Frank Cowperwood, wealthyas he was, to suggest ways and means. In his younger gallivantings aboutplaces of ill repute, and his subsequent occasional variations from thestraight and narrow path, he had learned much of the curious resourcesof immorality. Being a city of five hundred thousand and more at thistime, Philadelphia had its nondescript hotels, where one might go, cautiously and fairly protected from observation; and there were housesof a conservative, residential character, where appointments might bemade, for a consideration. And as for safeguards against the productionof new life--they were not mysteries to him any longer. He knew allabout them. Care was the point of caution. He had to be cautious, forhe was so rapidly coming to be an influential and a distinguished man. Aileen, of course, was not conscious, except in a vague way, of thedrift of her passion; the ultimate destiny to which this affection mightlead was not clear to her. Her craving was for love--to be fondled andcaressed--and she really did not think so much further. Further thoughtsalong this line were like rats that showed their heads out of dark holesin shadowy corners and scuttled back at the least sound. And, anyhow, all that was to be connected with Cowperwood would be beautiful. Shereally did not think that he loved her yet as he should; but he would. She did not know that she wanted to interfere with the claims of hiswife. She did not think she did. But it would not hurt Mrs. Cowperwoodif Frank loved her--Aileen--also. 

How shall we explain these subtleties of temperament and desire? Lifehas to deal with them at every turn. They will not down, and the large, placid movements of nature outside of man's little organisms wouldindicate that she is not greatly concerned. We see much punishment inthe form of jails, diseases, failures, and wrecks; but we also see thatthe old tendency is not visibly lessened. Is there no law outside of thesubtle will and power of the individual to achieve? If not, it is surelyhigh time that we knew it--one and all. We might then agree to do as wedo; but there would be no silly illusion as to divine regulation. Voxpopuli, vox Dei. 

So there were other meetings, lovely hours which they soon began tospend the moment her passion waxed warm enough to assure compliance, without great fear and without thought of the deadly risk involved. Fromodd moments in his own home, stolen when there was no one about to see, they advanced to clandestine meetings beyond the confines of the city. Cowperwood was not one who was temperamentally inclined to lose his headand neglect his business. As a matter of fact, the more he thought ofthis rather unexpected affectional development, the more certain he wasthat he must not let it interfere with his business time and judgment. His office required his full attention from nine until three, anyhow. Hecould give it until five-thirty with profit; but he could take severalafternoons off, from three-thirty until five-thirty or six, and no onewould be the wiser. It was customary for Aileen to drive alone almostevery afternoon a spirited pair of bays, or to ride a mount, boughtby her father for her from a noted horse-dealer in Baltimore. SinceCowperwood also drove and rode, it was not difficult to arrangemeeting-places far out on the Wissahickon or the Schuylkill road. Therewere many spots in the newly laid-out park, which were as free frominterruption as the depths of a forest. It was always possible thatthey might encounter some one; but it was also always possible to make arather plausible explanation, or none at all, since even in case of suchan encounter nothing, ordinarily, would be suspected. 

So, for the time being there was love-making, the usual billing andcooing of lovers in a simple and much less than final fashion; and thelovely horseback rides together under the green trees of the approachingspring were idyllic. Cowperwood awakened to a sense of joy in life suchas he fancied, in the blush of this new desire, he had never experiencedbefore. Lillian had been lovely in those early days in which he hadfirst called on her in North Front Street, and he had fancied himselfunspeakably happy at that time; but that was nearly ten years since, and he had forgotten. Since then he had had no great passion, no notableliaison; and then, all at once, in the midst of his new, great businessprosperity, Aileen. Her young body and soul, her passionate illusions. He could see always, for all her daring, that she knew so little of thecalculating, brutal world with which he was connected. Her father hadgiven her all the toys she wanted without stint; her mother and brothershad coddled her, particularly her mother. Her young sister thought shewas adorable. No one imagined for one moment that Aileen would ever doanything wrong. She was too sensible, after all, too eager to get upin the world. Why should she, when her life lay open and happy beforeher--a delightful love-match, some day soon, with some very eligible andsatisfactory lover?

"When you marry, Aileen, " her mother used to say to her, "we'll have agrand time here. Sure we'll do the house over then, if we don't do itbefore. Eddie will have to fix it up, or I'll do it meself. Never fear. "

"Yes--well, I'd rather you'd fix it now, " was her reply. 

Butler himself used to strike her jovially on the shoulder in a rough, loving way, and ask, "Well, have you found him yet?" or "Is he hangingaround the outside watchin' for ye?"

If she said, "No, " he would reply: "Well, he will be, never fear--worseluck. I'll hate to see ye go, girlie! You can stay here as long as yewant to, and ye want to remember that you can always come back. "

Aileen paid very little attention to this bantering. She loved herfather, but it was all such a matter of course. It was the commonplaceof her existence, and not so very significant, though delightful enough. 

But how eagerly she yielded herself to Cowperwood under the spring treesthese days! She had no sense of that ultimate yielding that was coming, for now he merely caressed and talked to her. He was a little doubtfulabout himself. His growing liberties for himself seemed natural enough, but in a sense of fairness to her he began to talk to her about whattheir love might involve. Would she? Did she understand? This phase ofit puzzled and frightened Aileen a little at first. She stood before himone afternoon in her black riding-habit and high silk riding-hat perchedjauntily on her red-gold hair; and striking her riding-skirt with hershort whip, pondering doubtfully as she listened. He had asked herwhether she knew what she was doing? Whither they were drifting? Ifshe loved him truly enough? The two horses were tethered in a thicket ascore of yards away from the main road and from the bank of a tumblingstream, which they had approached. She was trying to discover if shecould see them. It was pretense. There was no interest in her glance. She was thinking of him and the smartness of his habit, and theexquisiteness of this moment. He had such a charming calico pony. Theleaves were just enough developed to make a diaphanous lacework ofgreen. It was like looking through a green-spangled arras to peer intothe woods beyond or behind. The gray stones were already faintlymessy where the water rippled and sparkled, and early birds werecalling--robins and blackbirds and wrens. 

"Baby mine, " he said, "do you understand all about this? Do you knowexactly what you're doing when you come with me this way?"

"I think I do. "

She struck her boot and looked at the ground, and then up through thetrees at the blue sky. 

"Look at me, honey. "

"I don't want to. "

"But look at me, sweet. I want to ask you something. "

"Don't make me, Frank, please. I can't. "

"Oh yes, you can look at me. "

"No. "

She backed away as he took her hands, but came forward again, easilyenough. 

"Now look in my eyes. "

"I can't. "

"See here. "

"I can't. Don't ask me. I'll answer you, but don't make me look at you. "

His hand stole to her cheek and fondled it. He petted her shoulder, andshe leaned her head against him. 

"Sweet, you're so beautiful, " he said finally, "I can't give you up. Iknow what I ought to do. You know, too, I suppose; but I can't. I musthave you. If this should end in exposure, it would be quite bad for youand me. Do you understand?"

"Yes. "

"I don't know your brothers very well; but from looking at them I judgethey're pretty determined people. They think a great deal of you. "

"Indeed, they do. " Her vanity prinked slightly at this. 

"They would probably want to kill me, and very promptly, for just thismuch. What do you think they would want to do if--well, if anythingshould happen, some time?"

He waited, watching her pretty face. 

"But nothing need happen. We needn't go any further. "

"Aileen!"

"I won't look at you. You needn't ask. I can't. "

"Aileen! Do you mean that?"

"I don't know. Don't ask me, Frank. "

"You know it can't stop this way, don't you? You know it. This isn'tthe end. Now, if--" He explained the whole theory of illicit meetings, calmly, dispassionately. "You are perfectly safe, except for one thing, chance exposure. It might just so happen; and then, of course, therewould be a great deal to settle for. Mrs. Cowperwood would never give mea divorce; she has no reason to. If I should clean up in the way I hopeto--if I should make a million--I wouldn't mind knocking off now. Idon't expect to work all my days. I have always planned to knock off atthirty-five. I'll have enough by that time. Then I want to travel. Itwill only be a few more years now. If you were free--if your fatherand mother were dead"--curiously she did not wince at this practicalreference--"it would be a different matter. "

He paused. She still gazed thoughtfully at the water below, her mindrunning out to a yacht on the sea with him, a palace somewhere--justthey two. Her eyes, half closed, saw this happy world; and, listening tohim, she was fascinated. 

"Hanged if I see the way out of this, exactly. But I love you!" Hecaught her to him. "I love you--love you!"

"Oh, yes, " she replied intensely, "I want you to. I'm not afraid. "

"I've taken a house in North Tenth Street, " he said finally, as theywalked over to the horses and mounted them. "It isn't furnished yet; butit will be soon. I know a woman who will take charge. "

"Who is she?"

"An interesting widow of nearly fifty. Very intelligent--she isattractive, and knows a good deal of life. I found her through anadvertisement. You might call on her some afternoon when things arearranged, and look the place over. You needn't meet her except in acasual way. Will you?"

She rode on, thinking, making no reply. He was so direct and practicalin his calculations. 

"Will you? It will be all right. You might know her. She isn'tobjectionable in any way. Will you?"

"Let me know when it is ready, " was all she said finally. 

Chapter XXI

The vagaries of passion! Subtleties! Risks! What sacrifices are notlaid willfully upon its altar! In a little while this more than averageresidence to which Cowperwood had referred was prepared solely toeffect a satisfactory method of concealment. The house was governed bya seemingly recently-bereaved widow, and it was possible for Aileen tocall without seeming strangely out of place. In such surroundings, andunder such circumstances, it was not difficult to persuade her togive herself wholly to her lover, governed as she was by her wild andunreasoning affection and passion. In a way, there was a saving elementof love, for truly, above all others, she wanted this man. She had nothought or feeling toward any other. All her mind ran toward visions ofthe future, when, somehow, she and he might be together for all time. Mrs. Cowperwood might die, or he might run away with her at thirty-fivewhen he had a million. Some adjustment would be made, somehow. Naturehad given her this man. She relied on him implicitly. When he told herthat he would take care of her so that nothing evil should befall, shebelieved him fully. Such sins are the commonplaces of the confessional. 

It is a curious fact that by some subtlety of logic in the Christianworld, it has come to be believed that there can be no love outside theconventional process of courtship and marriage. One life, one love, isthe Christian idea, and into this sluice or mold it has been endeavoringto compress the whole world. Pagan thought held no such belief. Awriting of divorce for trivial causes was the theory of the elders; andin the primeval world nature apparently holds no scheme for the unity oftwo beyond the temporary care of the young. That the modern home isthe most beautiful of schemes, when based upon mutual sympathy andunderstanding between two, need not be questioned. And yet this factshould not necessarily carry with it a condemnation of all love not sofortunate as to find so happy a denouement. Life cannot be put intoany mold, and the attempt might as well be abandoned at once. Thoseso fortunate as to find harmonious companionship for life shouldcongratulate themselves and strive to be worthy of it. Those notso blessed, though they be written down as pariahs, have yet somejustification. And, besides, whether we will or not, theory or notheory, the basic facts of chemistry and physics remain. Like is drawnto like. Changes in temperament bring changes in relationship. Dogma maybind some minds; fear, others. But there are always those in whom thechemistry and physics of life are large, and in whom neither dogma norfear is operative. Society lifts its hands in horror; but from ageto age the Helens, the Messalinas, the Du Barrys, the Pompadours, theMaintenons, and the Nell Gwyns flourish and point a freer basis ofrelationship than we have yet been able to square with our lives. 

These two felt unutterably bound to each other. Cowperwood, once he cameto understand her, fancied that he had found the one person with whom hecould live happily the rest of his life. She was so young, so confident, so hopeful, so undismayed. All these months since they had first begunto reach out to each other he had been hourly contrasting her with hiswife. As a matter of fact, his dissatisfaction, though it may be said tohave been faint up to this time, was now surely tending to become realenough. Still, his children were pleasing to him; his home beautiful. Lillian, phlegmatic and now thin, was still not homely. All these yearshe had found her satisfactory enough; but now his dissatisfaction withher began to increase. She was not like Aileen--not young, not vivid, not as unschooled in the commonplaces of life. And while ordinarily, hewas not one who was inclined to be querulous, still now on occasion, he could be. He began by asking questions concerning his wife'sappearance--irritating little whys which are so trivial and yet soexasperating and discouraging to a woman. Why didn't she get a mauvehat nearer the shade of her dress? Why didn't she go out more? Exercisewould do her good. Why didn't she do this, and why didn't she do that?He scarcely noticed that he was doing this; but she did, and she feltthe undertone--the real significance--and took umbrage. 

"Oh, why--why?" she retorted, one day, curtly. "Why do you ask so manyquestions? You don't care so much for me any more; that's why. I cantell. "

He leaned back startled by the thrust. It had not been based on anyevidence of anything save his recent remarks; but he was not absolutelysure. He was just the least bit sorry that he had irritated her, and hesaid so. 

"Oh, it's all right, " she replied. "I don't care. But I notice that youdon't pay as much attention to me as you used to. It's your businessnow, first, last, and all the time. You can't get your mind off ofthat. "

He breathed a sigh of relief. She didn't suspect, then. 

But after a little time, as he grew more and more in sympathy withAileen, he was not so disturbed as to whether his wife might suspector not. He began to think on occasion, as his mind followed the variousramifications of the situation, that it would be better if she did. Shewas really not of the contentious fighting sort. He now decided becauseof various calculations in regard to her character that she might notoffer as much resistance to some ultimate rearrangement, as he hadoriginally imagined. She might even divorce him. Desire, dreams, evenin him were evoking calculations not as sound as those which ordinarilygenerated in his brain. 

No, as he now said to himself, the rub was not nearly so much in his ownhome, as it was in the Butler family. His relations with Edward MaliaButler had become very intimate. He was now advising with him constantlyin regard to the handling of his securities, which were numerous. Butler held stocks in such things as the Pennsylvania Coal Company, the Delaware and Hudson Canal, the Morris and Essex Canal, the ReadingRailroad. As the old gentleman's mind had broadened to the significanceof the local street-railway problem in Philadelphia, he had decided toclose out his other securities at such advantageous terms as he could, and reinvest the money in local lines. He knew that Mollenhauerand Simpson were doing this, and they were excellent judges of thesignificance of local affairs. Like Cowperwood, he had the idea that ifhe controlled sufficient of the local situation in this field, hecould at last effect a joint relationship with Mollenhauer and Simpson. Political legislation, advantageous to the combined lines, could thenbe so easily secured. Franchises and necessary extensions to existingfranchises could be added. This conversion of his outstanding stockin other fields, and the picking up of odd lots in the localstreet-railway, was the business of Cowperwood. Butler, through hissons, Owen and Callum, was also busy planning a new line and obtaining afranchise, sacrificing, of course, great blocks of stock and actual cashto others, in order to obtain sufficient influence to have the necessarylegislation passed. Yet it was no easy matter, seeing that others knewwhat the general advantages of the situation were, and because of thisCowperwood, who saw the great source of profit here, was able, betimes, to serve himself--buying blocks, a part of which only went to Butler, Mollenhauer or others. In short he was not as eager to serve Butler, orany one else, as he was to serve himself if he could. 

In this connection, the scheme which George W. Stener had broughtforward, representing actually in the background Strobik, Wycroft, andHarmon, was an opening wedge for himself. Stener's plan was to loan himmoney out of the city treasury at two per cent. , or, if he would waiveall commissions, for nothing (an agent for self-protective purposeswas absolutely necessary), and with it take over the North PennsylvaniaCompany's line on Front Street, which, because of the shortness of itslength, one mile and a half, and the brevity of the duration of itsfranchise, was neither doing very well nor being rated very high. Cowperwood in return for his manipulative skill was to have a fairproportion of the stock--twenty per cent. Strobik and Wycroft knew theparties from whom the bulk of the stock could be secured if engineeredproperly. Their plan was then, with this borrowed treasury money, toextend its franchise and then the line itself, and then later again, byissuing a great block of stock and hypothecating it with a favored bank, be able to return the principal to the city treasury and pocket theirprofits from the line as earned. There was no trouble in this, in so faras Cowperwood was concerned, except that it divided the stock very badlyamong these various individuals, and left him but a comparatively smallshare--for his thought and pains. 

But Cowperwood was an opportunist. And by this time his financialmorality had become special and local in its character. He did not thinkit was wise for any one to steal anything from anybody where the act oftaking or profiting was directly and plainly considered stealing. That was unwise--dangerous--hence wrong. There were so many situationswherein what one might do in the way of taking or profiting was opento discussion and doubt. Morality varied, in his mind at least, withconditions, if not climates. Here, in Philadelphia, the tradition(politically, mind you--not generally) was that the city treasurer mightuse the money of the city without interest so long as he returned theprincipal intact. The city treasury and the city treasurer were likea honey-laden hive and a queen bee around which the drones--thepoliticians--swarmed in the hope of profit. The one disagreeable thingin connection with this transaction with Stener was that neither Butler, Mollenhauer nor Simpson, who were the actual superiors of Stener andStrobik, knew anything about it. Stener and those behind him were, through him, acting for themselves. If the larger powers heard of this, it might alienate them. He had to think of this. Still, if he refusedto make advantageous deals with Stener or any other man influential inlocal affairs, he was cutting off his nose to spite his face, for otherbankers and brokers would, and gladly. And besides it was not at allcertain that Butler, Mollenhauer, and Simpson would ever hear. 

In this connection, there was another line, which he rode onoccasionally, the Seventeenth and Nineteenth Street line, which he feltwas a much more interesting thing for him to think about, if he couldraise the money. It had been originally capitalized for five hundredthousand dollars; but there had been a series of bonds to the value oftwo hundred and fifty thousand dollars added for improvements, and thecompany was finding great difficulty in meeting the interest. The bulkof the stock was scattered about among small investors, and it wouldrequire all of two hundred and fifty thousand dollars to collect it andhave himself elected president or chairman of the board of directors. Once in, however, he could vote this stock as he pleased, hypothecatingit meanwhile at his father's bank for as much as he could get, andissuing more stocks with which to bribe legislators in the matter ofextending the line, and in taking up other opportunities to eitheradd to it by purchase or supplement it by working agreements. Theword "bribe" is used here in this matter-of-fact American way, becausebribery was what was in every one's mind in connection with the Statelegislature. Terrence Relihan--the small, dark-faced Irishman, adandy in dress and manners--who represented the financial interests atHarrisburg, and who had come to Cowperwood after the five million bonddeal had been printed, had told him that nothing could be done at thecapital without money, or its equivalent, negotiable securities. Eachsignificant legislator, if he yielded his vote or his influence, must belooked after. If he, Cowperwood, had any scheme which he wanted handledat any time, Relihan had intimated to him that he would be glad to talkwith him. Cowperwood had figured on this Seventeenth and NineteenthStreet line scheme more than once, but he had never felt quite sure thathe was willing to undertake it. His obligations in other directions wereso large. But the lure was there, and he pondered and pondered. 

Stener's scheme of loaning him money wherewith to manipulate the NorthPennsylvania line deal put this Seventeenth and Nineteenth Street dreamin a more favorable light. As it was he was constantly watching thecertificates of loan issue, for the city treasury, --buying largequantities when the market was falling to protect it and sellingheavily, though cautiously, when he saw it rising and to do this hehad to have a great deal of free money to permit him to do it. He wasconstantly fearful of some break in the market which would affect thevalue of all his securities and result in the calling of his loans. There was no storm in sight. He did not see that anything could happenin reason; but he did not want to spread himself out too thin. As he sawit now, therefore if he took one hundred and fifty thousand dollars ofthis city money and went after this Seventeenth and Nineteenth Streetmatter it would not mean that he was spreading himself out too thin, forbecause of this new proposition could he not call on Stener for more asa loan in connection with these other ventures? But if anything shouldhappen--well--

"Frank, " said Stener, strolling into his office one afternoon after fouro'clock when the main rush of the day's work was over--the relationshipbetween Cowperwood and Stener had long since reached the "Frank" and"George" period--"Strobik thinks he has that North Pennsylvaniadeal arranged so that we can take it up if we want to. The principalstockholder, we find, is a man by the name of Coltan--not Ike Colton, but Ferdinand. How's that for a name?" Stener beamed fatly and genially. 

Things had changed considerably for him since the days when he had beenfortuitously and almost indifferently made city treasurer. His methodof dressing had so much improved since he had been inducted into office, and his manner expressed so much more good feeling, confidence, aplomb, that he would not have recognized himself if he had been permittedto see himself as had those who had known him before. An old, nervousshifting of the eyes had almost ceased, and a feeling of restfulness, which had previously been restlessness, and had sprung from a sense ofnecessity, had taken its place. His large feet were incased in good, square-toed, soft-leather shoes; his stocky chest and fat legs were madesomewhat agreeable to the eye by a well-cut suit of brownish-gray cloth;and his neck was now surrounded by a low, wing-point white collar andbrown-silk tie. His ample chest, which spread out a little lower inaround and constantly enlarging stomach, was ornamented by a heavy-linkgold chain, and his white cuffs had large gold cuff-buttons set withrubies of a very notable size. He was rosy and decidedly well fed. Infact, he was doing very well indeed. 

He had moved his family from a shabby two-story frame house in SouthNinth Street to a very comfortable brick one three stories in height, and three times as large, on Spring Garden Street. His wife had afew acquaintances--the wives of other politicians. His children wereattending the high school, a thing he had hardly hoped for in earlierdays. He was now the owner of fourteen or fifteen pieces of cheap realestate in different portions of the city, which might eventually becomevery valuable, and he was a silent partner in the South PhiladelphiaFoundry Company and the American Beef and Pork Company, two corporationson paper whose principal business was subletting contracts securedfrom the city to the humble butchers and foundrymen who would carry outorders as given and not talk too much or ask questions. 

"Well, that is an odd name, " said Cowperwood, blandly. "So he has it? Inever thought that road would pay, as it was laid out. It's too short. It ought to run about three miles farther out into the Kensingtonsection. "

"You're right, " said Stener, dully. 

"Did Strobik say what Colton wants for his shares?"

"Sixty-eight, I think. "

"The current market rate. He doesn't want much, does he? Well, George, at that rate it will take about"--he calculated quickly on the basisof the number of shares Cotton was holding--"one hundred and twentythousand to get him out alone. That isn't all. There's Judge Kitchenand Joseph Zimmerman and Senator Donovan"--he was referring to the Statesenator of that name. "You'll be paying a pretty fair price for thatstud when you get it. It will cost considerable more to extend the line. It's too much, I think. "

Cowperwood was thinking how easy it would be to combine this line withhis dreamed-of Seventeenth and Nineteenth Street line, and after a timeand with this in view he added:

"Say, George, why do you work all your schemes through Strobik andHarmon and Wycroft? Couldn't you and I manage some of these things forourselves alone instead of for three or four? It seems to me that planwould be much more profitable to you. "

"It would, it would!" exclaimed Stener, his round eyes fixed onCowperwood in a rather helpless, appealing way. He liked Cowperwood andhad always been hoping that mentally as well as financially he couldget close to him. "I've thought of that. But these fellows have had moreexperience in these matters than I have had, Frank. They've been longerat the game. I don't know as much about these things as they do. "

Cowperwood smiled in his soul, though his face remained passive. 

"Don't worry about them, George, " he continued genially andconfidentially. "You and I together can know and do as much as they evercould and more. I'm telling you. Take this railroad deal you're in onnow, George; you and I could manipulate that just as well and betterthan it can be done with Wycroft, Strobik, and Harmon in on it. They'renot adding anything to the wisdom of the situation. They're not puttingup any money. You're doing that. All they're doing is agreeing to see itthrough the legislature and the council, and as far as the legislatureis concerned, they can't do any more with that than any one elsecould--than I could, for instance. It's all a question of arrangingthings with Relihan, anyhow, putting up a certain amount of money forhim to work with. Here in town there are other people who can reach thecouncil just as well as Strobik. " He was thinking (once he controlleda road of his own) of conferring with Butler and getting him to use hisinfluence. It would serve to quiet Strobik and his friends. "I'm notasking you to change your plans on this North Pennsylvania deal. Youcouldn't do that very well. But there are other things. In the futurewhy not let's see if you and I can't work some one thing together?You'll be much better off, and so will I. We've done pretty well on thecity-loan proposition so far, haven't we?"

The truth was, they had done exceedingly well. Aside from what thehigher powers had made, Stener's new house, his lots, his bank-account, his good clothes, and his changed and comfortable sense of life werelargely due to Cowperwood's successful manipulation of these city-loancertificates. Already there had been four issues of two hundred thousanddollars each. Cowperwood had bought and sold nearly three milliondollars' worth of these certificates, acting one time as a "bull" andanother as a "bear. " Stener was now worth all of one hundred and fiftythousand dollars. 

"There's a line that I know of here in the city which could be made intoa splendidly paying property, " continued Cowperwood, meditatively, "if the right things could be done with it. Just like this NorthPennsylvania line, it isn't long enough. The territory it serves isn'tbig enough. It ought to be extended; but if you and I could get it, itmight eventually be worked with this North Pennsylvania Company or someother as one company. That would save officers and offices and a lotof things. There is always money to be made out of a larger purchasingpower. "

He paused and looked out the window of his handsome little hardwoodoffice, speculating upon the future. The window gave nowhere save intoa back yard behind another office building which had formerly been aresidence. Some grass grew feebly there. The red wall and old-fashionedbrick fence which divided it from the next lot reminded him somehow ofhis old home in New Market Street, to which his Uncle Seneca used tocome as a Cuban trader followed by his black Portuguese servitor. Hecould see him now as he sat here looking at the yard. 

"Well, " asked Stener, ambitiously, taking the bait, "why don't we gethold of that--you and me? I suppose I could fix it so far as the moneyis concerned. How much would it take?"

Cowperwood smiled inwardly again. 

"I don't know exactly, " he said, after a time. "I want to look into itmore carefully. The one trouble is that I'm carrying a good deal of thecity's money as it is. You see, I have that two hundred thousand dollarsagainst your city-loan deals. And this new scheme will take two or threehundred thousand more. If that were out of the way--"

He was thinking of one of the inexplicable stock panics--those strangeAmerican depressions which had so much to do with the temperament of thepeople, and so little to do with the basic conditions of the country. "If this North Pennsylvania deal were through and done with--"

He rubbed his chin and pulled at his handsome silky mustache. 

"Don't ask me any more about it, George, " he said, finally, as he sawthat the latter was beginning to think as to which line it might be. "Don't say anything at all about it. I want to get my facts exactlyright, and then I'll talk to you. I think you and I can do this thing alittle later, when we get the North Pennsylvania scheme under way. I'mso rushed just now I'm not sure that I want to undertake it at once; butyou keep quiet and we'll see. " He turned toward his desk, and Stener gotup. 

"I'll make any sized deposit with you that you wish, the moment youthink you're ready to act, Frank, " exclaimed Stener, and with thethought that Cowperwood was not nearly as anxious to do this as heshould be, since he could always rely on him (Stener) when there wasanything really profitable in the offing. Why should not the able andwonderful Cowperwood be allowed to make the two of them rich? "Justnotify Stires, and he'll send you a check. Strobik thought we ought toact pretty soon. "

"I'll tend to it, George, " replied Cowperwood, confidently. "It willcome out all right. Leave it to me. "

Stener kicked his stout legs to straighten his trousers, and extendedhis hand. He strolled out in the street thinking of this new scheme. Certainly, if he could get in with Cowperwood right he would be a richman, for Cowperwood was so successful and so cautious. His new house, this beautiful banking office, his growing fame, and his subtleconnections with Butler and others put Stener in considerable awe ofhim. Another line! They would control it and the North Pennsylvania!Why, if this went on, he might become a magnate--he really might--he, George W. Stener, once a cheap real-estate and insurance agent. Hestrolled up the street thinking, but with no more idea of the importanceof his civic duties and the nature of the social ethics against which hewas offending than if they had never existed. 

Chapter XXII

The services which Cowperwood performed during the ensuing year and ahalf for Stener, Strobik, Butler, State Treasurer Van Nostrand, StateSenator Relihan, representative of "the interests, " so-called, atHarrisburg, and various banks which were friendly to these gentlemen, were numerous and confidential. For Stener, Strobik, Wycroft, Harmon andhimself he executed the North Pennsylvania deal, by which he becamea holder of a fifth of the controlling stock. Together he and Stenerjoined to purchase the Seventeenth and Nineteenth Street line and in theconcurrent gambling in stocks. 

By the summer of 1871, when Cowperwood was nearly thirty-four years ofage, he had a banking business estimated at nearly two million dollars, personal holdings aggregating nearly half a million, and prospects whichother things being equal looked to wealth which might rival that ofany American. The city, through its treasurer--still Mr. Stener--wasa depositor with him to the extent of nearly five hundred thousanddollars. The State, through its State treasurer, Van Nostrand, carriedtwo hundred thousand dollars on his books. Bode was speculating instreet-railway stocks to the extent of fifty thousand dollars. Relihanto the same amount. A small army of politicians and political hangers-onwere on his books for various sums. And for Edward Malia Butler heoccasionally carried as high as one hundred thousand dollars in margins. His own loans at the banks, varying from day to day on variouslyhypothecated securities, were as high as seven and eight hundredthousand dollars. Like a spider in a spangled net, every thread of whichhe knew, had laid, had tested, he had surrounded and entangled himselfin a splendid, glittering network of connections, and he was watchingall the details. 

His one pet idea, the thing he put more faith in than anything else, washis street-railway manipulations, and particularly his actual control ofthe Seventeenth and Nineteenth Street line. Through an advance to him, on deposit, made in his bank by Stener at a time when the stock of theSeventeenth and Nineteenth Street line was at a low ebb, he had managedto pick up fifty-one per cent. Of the stock for himself and Stener, by virtue of which he was able to do as he pleased with the road. To accomplish this, however, he had resorted to some very "peculiar"methods, as they afterward came to be termed in financial circles, toget this stock at his own valuation. Through agents he caused suits fordamages to be brought against the company for non-payment of interestdue. A little stock in the hands of a hireling, a request made toa court of record to examine the books of the company in order todetermine whether a receivership were not advisable, a simultaneousattack in the stock market, selling at three, five, seven, and tenpoints off, brought the frightened stockholders into the market withtheir holdings. The banks considered the line a poor risk, and calledtheir loans in connection with it. His father's bank had made one loanto one of the principal stockholders, and that was promptly called, ofcourse. Then, through an agent, the several heaviest shareholders wereapproached and an offer was made to help them out. The stocks wouldbe taken off their hands at forty. They had not really been able todiscover the source of all their woes; and they imagined that the roadwas in bad condition, which it was not. Better let it go. The money wasimmediately forthcoming, and Cowperwood and Stener jointly controlledfifty-one per cent. But, as in the case of the North Pennsylvania line, Cowperwood had been quietly buying all of the small minority holdings, so that he had in reality fifty-one per cent. Of the stock, and Stenertwenty-five per cent. More. 

This intoxicated him, for immediately he saw the opportunity offulfilling his long-contemplated dream--that of reorganizing the companyin conjunction with the North Pennsylvania line, issuing three shareswhere one had been before and after unloading all but a control on thegeneral public, using the money secured to buy into other lines whichwere to be boomed and sold in the same way. In short, he was one ofthose early, daring manipulators who later were to seize upon otherand ever larger phases of American natural development for their ownaggrandizement. 

In connection with this first consolidation, his plan was to spreadrumors of the coming consolidation of the two lines, to appeal tothe legislature for privileges of extension, to get up an arrestingprospectus and later annual reports, and to boom the stock on the stockexchange as much as his swelling resources would permit. The trouble isthat when you are trying to make a market for a stock--to unload a largeissue such as his was (over five hundred thousand dollars' worth)--whileretaining five hundred thousand for yourself, it requires large capitalto handle it. The owner in these cases is compelled not only to go onthe market and do much fictitious buying, thus creating a fictitiousdemand, but once this fictitious demand has deceived the public and hehas been able to unload a considerable quantity of his wares, he is, unless he rids himself of all his stock, compelled to stand behind it. If, for instance, he sold five thousand shares, as was done in thisinstance, and retained five thousand, he must see that the public priceof the outstanding five thousand shares did not fall below a certainpoint, because the value of his private shares would fall with it. And if, as is almost always the case, the private shares had beenhypothecated with banks and trust companies for money wherewith toconduct other enterprises, the falling of their value in the open marketmerely meant that the banks would call for large margins to protecttheir loans or call their loans entirely. This meant that his work wasa failure, and he might readily fail. He was already conducting one suchdifficult campaign in connection with this city-loan deal, the price ofwhich varied from day to day, and which he was only too anxious to havevary, for in the main he profited by these changes. 

But this second burden, interesting enough as it was, meant that hehad to be doubly watchful. Once the stock was sold at a high price, the money borrowed from the city treasurer could be returned; hisown holdings created out of foresight, by capitalizing the future, bywriting the shrewd prospectuses and reports, would be worth their facevalue, or little less. He would have money to invest in other lines. He might obtain the financial direction of the whole, in which case hewould be worth millions. One shrewd thing he did, which indicated theforesight and subtlety of the man, was to make a separate organizationor company of any extension or addition which he made to his line. Thus, if he had two or three miles of track on a street, and he wanted toextend it two or three miles farther on the same street, instead ofincluding this extension in the existing corporation, he would make asecond corporation to control the additional two or three miles ofright of way. This corporation he would capitalize at so much, and issuestocks and bonds for its construction, equipment, and manipulation. Having done this he would then take the sub-corporation over into theparent concern, issuing more stocks and bonds of the parent companywherewith to do it, and, of course, selling these bonds to thepublic. Even his brothers who worked for him did not know the variousramifications of his numerous deals, and executed his orders blindly. Sometimes Joseph said to Edward, in a puzzled way, "Well, Frank knowswhat he is about, I guess. "

On the other hand, he was most careful to see that every currentobligation was instantly met, and even anticipated, for he wanted tomake a great show of regularity. Nothing was so precious as reputationand standing. His forethought, caution, and promptness pleased thebankers. They thought he was one of the sanest, shrewdest men they hadever met. 

However, by the spring and summer of 1871, Cowperwood had actually, without being in any conceivable danger from any source, spreadhimself out very thin. Because of his great success he had grown moreliberal--easier--in his financial ventures. By degrees, and largelybecause of his own confidence in himself, he had induced his fatherto enter upon his street-car speculations, to use the resources of theThird National to carry a part of his loans and to furnish capital atsuch times as quick resources were necessary. In the beginning the oldgentleman had been a little nervous and skeptical, but as time had wornon and nothing but profit eventuated, he grew bolder and more confident. 

"Frank, " he would say, looking up over his spectacles, "aren't youafraid you're going a little too fast in these matters? You're carryinga lot of loans these days. "

"No more than I ever did, father, considering my resources. You can'tturn large deals without large loans. You know that as well as I do. "

"Yes, I know, but--now that Green and Coates--aren't you going prettystrong there?"

"Not at all. I know the inside conditions there. The stock is bound togo up eventually. I'll bull it up. I'll combine it with my other lines, if necessary. "

Cowperwood stared at his boy. Never was there such a defiant, daringmanipulator. 

"You needn't worry about me, father. If you are going to do that, callmy loans. Other banks will loan on my stocks. I'd like to see your bankhave the interest. "

So Cowperwood, Sr. , was convinced. There was no gainsaying thisargument. His bank was loaning Frank heavily, but not more so than anyother. And as for the great blocks of stocks he was carrying in hisson's companies, he was to be told when to get out should that provenecessary. Frank's brothers were being aided in the same way tomake money on the side, and their interests were also now bound upindissolubly with his own. 

With his growing financial opportunities, however, Cowperwood had alsogrown very liberal in what might be termed his standard of living. Certain young art dealers in Philadelphia, learning of his artisticinclinations and his growing wealth, had followed him up withsuggestions as to furniture, tapestries, rugs, objects of art, and paintings--at first the American and later the foreign mastersexclusively. His own and his father's house had not been furnished fullyin these matters, and there was that other house in North Tenth Street, which he desired to make beautiful. Aileen had always objected to thecondition of her own home. Love of distinguished surroundings was abasic longing with her, though she had not the gift of interpretingher longings. But this place where they were secretly meeting must bebeautiful. She was as keen for that as he was. So it became a veritabletreasure-trove, more distinguished in furnishings than some of the roomsof his own home. He began to gather here some rare examples of altarcloths, rugs, and tapestries of the Middle Ages. He bought furnitureafter the Georgian theory--a combination of Chippendale, Sheraton, andHeppelwhite modified by the Italian Renaissance and the French Louis. Helearned of handsome examples of porcelain, statuary, Greek vase forms, lovely collections of Japanese ivories and netsukes. Fletcher Gray, a partner in Cable & Gray, a local firm of importers of art objects, called on him in connection with a tapestry of the fourteenth centuryweaving. Gray was an enthusiast and almost instantly he conveyed some ofhis suppressed and yet fiery love of the beautiful to Cowperwood. 

"There are fifty periods of one shade of blue porcelain alone, Mr. Cowperwood, " Gray informed him. "There are at least seven distinctschools or periods of rugs--Persian, Armenian, Arabian, Flemish, ModernPolish, Hungarian, and so on. If you ever went into that, itwould be a distinguished thing to get a complete--I mean arepresentative--collection of some one period, or of all these periods. They are beautiful. I have seen some of them, others I've read about. "

"You'll make a convert of me yet, Fletcher, " replied Cowperwood. "You orart will be the ruin of me. I'm inclined that way temperamentally as itis, I think, and between you and Ellsworth and Gordon Strake"--anotheryoung man intensely interested in painting--"you'll complete mydownfall. Strake has a splendid idea. He wants me to begin rightnow--I'm using that word 'right' in the sense of 'properly, '" hecommented--"and get what examples I can of just the few rare things ineach school or period of art which would properly illustrate each. Hetells me the great pictures are going to increase in value, and what Icould get for a few hundred thousand now will be worth millions later. He doesn't want me to bother with American art. "

"He's right, " exclaimed Gray, "although it isn't good business for me topraise another art man. It would take a great deal of money, though. "

"Not so very much. At least, not all at once. It would be a matterof years, of course. Strake thinks that some excellent examples ofdifferent periods could be picked up now and later replaced if anythingbetter in the same held showed up. "

His mind, in spite of his outward placidity, was tinged with a greatseeking. Wealth, in the beginning, had seemed the only goal, to whichhad been added the beauty of women. And now art, for art's sake--thefirst faint radiance of a rosy dawn--had begun to shine in upon him, andto the beauty of womanhood he was beginning to see how necessary it wasto add the beauty of life--the beauty of material background--how, infact, the only background for great beauty was great art. This girl, this Aileen Butler, her raw youth and radiance, was neverthelesscreating in him a sense of the distinguished and a need for it whichhad never existed in him before to the same degree. It is impossible todefine these subtleties of reaction, temperament on temperament, for noone knows to what degree we are marked by the things which attract us. Alove affair such as this had proved to be was little less or more than adrop of coloring added to a glass of clear water, or a foreign chemicalagent introduced into a delicate chemical formula. 

In short, for all her crudeness, Aileen Butler was a definite forcepersonally. Her nature, in a way, a protest against the clumsyconditions by which she found herself surrounded, was almostirrationally ambitious. To think that for so long, having been born intothe Butler family, she had been the subject, as well as the victim ofsuch commonplace and inartistic illusions and conditions, whereas now, owing to her contact with, and mental subordination to Cowperwood, shewas learning so many wonderful phases of social, as well as financial, refinement of which previously she had guessed nothing. The wonder, forinstance, of a future social career as the wife of such a man as FrankCowperwood. The beauty and resourcefulness of his mind, which, afterhours of intimate contact with her, he was pleased to reveal, and which, so definite were his comments and instructions, she could not failto sense. The wonder of his financial and artistic and future socialdreams. And, oh, oh, she was his, and he was hers. She was actuallybeside herself at times with the glory, as well as the delight of allthis. 

At the same time, her father's local reputation as a quondam garbagecontractor ("slop-collector" was the unfeeling comment of the vulgariancognoscenti); her own unavailing efforts to right a condition ofmaterial vulgarity or artistic anarchy in her own home; the hopelessnessof ever being admitted to those distinguished portals which sherecognized afar off as the last sanctum sanctorum of establishedrespectability and social distinction, had bred in her, even at thisearly age, a feeling of deadly opposition to her home conditions as theystood. Such a house compared to Cowperwood's! Her dear, but ignorant, father! And this great man, her lover, had now condescended to loveher--see in her his future wife. Oh, God, that it might not fail!Through the Cowperwoods at first she had hoped to meet a few people, young men and women--and particularly men--who were above the station inwhich she found herself, and to whom her beauty and prospective fortunewould commend her; but this had not been the case. The Cowperwoodsthemselves, in spite of Frank Cowperwood's artistic proclivities andgrowing wealth, had not penetrated the inner circle as yet. In fact, aside from the subtle, preliminary consideration which they werereceiving, they were a long way off. 

None the less, and instinctively in Cowperwood Aileen recognized a wayout--a door--and by the same token a subtle, impending artistic futureof great magnificence. This man would rise beyond anything henow dreamed of--she felt it. There was in him, in some nebulous, unrecognizable form, a great artistic reality which was finer thananything she could plan for herself. She wanted luxury, magnificence, social station. Well, if she could get this man they would come to her. There were, apparently, insuperable barriers in the way; but hers was noweakling nature, and neither was his. They ran together temperamentallyfrom the first like two leopards. Her own thoughts--crude, halfformulated, half spoken--nevertheless matched his to a degree in theequality of their force and their raw directness. 

"I don't think papa knows how to do, " she said to him, one day. "Itisn't his fault. He can't help it. He knows that he can't. And he knowsthat I know it. For years I wanted him to move out of that old housethere. He knows that he ought to. But even that wouldn't do much good. "

She paused, looking at him with a straight, clear, vigorous glance. He liked the medallion sharpness of her features--their smooth, Greekmodeling. 

"Never mind, pet, " he replied. "We will arrange all these things later. I don't see my way out of this just now; but I think the best thing todo is to confess to Lillian some day, and see if some other plan can'tbe arranged. I want to fix it so the children won't suffer. I canprovide for them amply, and I wouldn't be at all surprised if Lillianwould be willing to let me go. She certainly wouldn't want anypublicity. "

He was counting practically, and man-fashion, on her love for herchildren. 

Aileen looked at him with clear, questioning, uncertain eyes. She wasnot wholly without sympathy, but in a way this situation did not appealto her as needing much. Mrs. Cowperwood was not friendly in her moodtoward her. It was not based on anything save a difference in theirpoint of view. Mrs. Cowperwood could never understand how a girl couldcarry her head so high and "put on such airs, " and Aileen could notunderstand how any one could be so lymphatic and lackadaisical asLillian Cowperwood. Life was made for riding, driving, dancing, going. It was made for airs and banter and persiflage and coquetry. To see thiswoman, the wife of a young, forceful man like Cowperwood, acting, eventhough she were five years older and the mother of two children, asthough life on its romantic and enthusiastic pleasurable side were allover was too much for her. Of course Lillian was unsuited to Frank; ofcourse he needed a young woman like herself, and fate would surely givehim to her. Then what a delicious life they would lead!

"Oh, Frank, " she exclaimed to him, over and over, "if we could onlymanage it. Do you think we can?"

"Do I think we can? Certainly I do. It's only a matter of time. I thinkif I were to put the matter to her clearly, she wouldn't expect me tostay. You look out how you conduct your affairs. If your father or yourbrother should ever suspect me, there'd be an explosion in this town, if nothing worse. They'd fight me in all my money deals, if they didn'tkill me. Are you thinking carefully of what you are doing?"

"All the time. If anything happens I'll deny everything. They can'tprove it, if I deny it. I'll come to you in the long run, just thesame. "

They were in the Tenth Street house at the time. She stroked his cheekswith the loving fingers of the wildly enamored woman. 

"I'll do anything for you, sweetheart, " she declared. "I'd die for youif I had to. I love you so. "

"Well, pet, no danger. You won't have to do anything like that. But becareful. "

Chapter XXIII

Then, after several years of this secret relationship, in which the tiesof sympathy and understanding grew stronger instead of weaker, camethe storm. It burst unexpectedly and out of a clear sky, and bore norelation to the intention or volition of any individual. It was nothingmore than a fire, a distant one--the great Chicago fire, October 7th, 1871, which burned that city--its vast commercial section--to theground, and instantly and incidentally produced a financial panic, vicious though of short duration in various other cities in America. The fire began on Saturday and continued apparently unabated until thefollowing Wednesday. It destroyed the banks, the commercial houses, theshipping conveniences, and vast stretches of property. The heaviest lossfell naturally upon the insurance companies, which instantly, in manycases--the majority--closed their doors. This threw the loss back on themanufacturers and wholesalers in other cities who had had dealings withChicago as well as the merchants of that city. Again, very grievouslosses were borne by the host of eastern capitalists which had for yearspast partly owned, or held heavy mortgages on, the magnificent buildingsfor business purposes and residences in which Chicago was alreadyrivaling every city on the continent. Transportation was disturbed, andthe keen scent of Wall Street, and Third Street in Philadelphia, andState Street in Boston, instantly perceived in the early reports thegravity of the situation. Nothing could be done on Saturday or Sundayafter the exchange closed, for the opening reports came too late. OnMonday, however, the facts were pouring in thick and fast; and theowners of railroad securities, government securities, street-carsecurities, and, indeed, all other forms of stocks and bonds, began tothrow them on the market in order to raise cash. The banks naturallywere calling their loans, and the result was a stock stampede whichequaled the Black Friday of Wall Street of two years before. 

Cowperwood and his father were out of town at the time the fire began. They had gone with several friends--bankers--to look at a proposed routeof extension of a local steam-railroad, on which a loan was desired. In buggies they had driven over a good portion of the route, and werereturning to Philadelphia late Sunday evening when the cries of newsboyshawking an "extra" reached their ears. 

"Ho! Extra! Extra! All about the big Chicago fire!"

"Ho! Extra! Extra! Chicago burning down! Extra! Extra!"

The cries were long-drawn-out, ominous, pathetic. In the dusk of thedreary Sunday afternoon, when the city had apparently retired to Sabbathmeditation and prayer, with that tinge of the dying year in the foliageand in the air, one caught a sense of something grim and gloomy. 

"Hey, boy, " called Cowperwood, listening, seeing a shabbily clothedmisfit of a boy with a bundle of papers under his arm turning a corner. "What's that? Chicago burning!"

He looked at his father and the other men in a significant way as hereached for the paper, and then, glancing at the headlines, realized theworst. 

ALL CHICAGO BURNING

FIRE RAGES UNCHECKED IN COMMERCIAL SECTION SINCE YESTERDAY EVENING. BANKS, COMMERCIAL HOUSES, PUBLIC BUILDINGS IN RUINS. DIRECT TELEGRAPHICCOMMUNICATION SUSPENDED SINCE THREE O'CLOCK TO-DAY. NO END TO PROGRESSOF DISASTER IN SIGHT. 

"That looks rather serious, " he said, calmly, to his companions, a cold, commanding force coming into his eyes and voice. To his father he saida little later, "It's panic, unless the majority of the banks andbrokerage firms stand together. "

He was thinking quickly, brilliantly, resourcefully of his ownoutstanding obligations. His father's bank was carrying one hundredthousand dollars' worth of his street-railway securities at sixty, andfifty thousand dollars' worth of city loan at seventy. His fatherhad "up with him" over forty thousand dollars in cash covering marketmanipulations in these stocks. The banking house of Drexel & Co. Was onhis books as a creditor for one hundred thousand, and that loan would becalled unless they were especially merciful, which was not likely. Jay Cooke & Co. Were his creditors for another one hundred and fiftythousand. They would want their money. At four smaller banks and threebrokerage companies he was debtor for sums ranging from fifty thousanddollars down. The city treasurer was involved with him to the extent ofnearly five hundred thousand dollars, and exposure of that would createa scandal; the State treasurer for two hundred thousand. There weresmall accounts, hundreds of them, ranging from one hundred dollars upto five and ten thousand. A panic would mean not only a withdrawal ofdeposits and a calling of loans, but a heavy depression of securities. How could he realize on his securities?--that was the question--howwithout selling so many points off that his fortune would be swept awayand he would be ruined?

He figured briskly the while he waved adieu to his friends, who hurriedaway, struck with their own predicament. 

"You had better go on out to the house, father, and I'll send sometelegrams. " (The telephone had not yet been invented. ) "I'll be rightout and we'll go into this thing together. It looks like black weatherto me. Don't say anything to any one until after we have had our talk;then we can decide what to do. "

Cowperwood, Sr. , was already plucking at his side-whiskers in a confusedand troubled way. He was cogitating as to what might happen to himin case his son failed, for he was deeply involved with him. He wasa little gray in his complexion now, frightened, for he had alreadystrained many points in his affairs to accommodate his son. If Frankshould not be able promptly on the morrow to meet the call which thebank might have to make for one hundred and fifty thousand dollars, theonus and scandal of the situation would be on him. 

On the other hand, his son was meditating on the tangled relation inwhich he now found himself in connection with the city treasurer and thefact that it was not possible for him to support the market alone. Thosewho should have been in a position to help him were now as bad off ashimself. There were many unfavorable points in the whole situation. Drexel & Co. Had been booming railway stocks--loaning heavily on them. Jay Cooke & Co. Had been backing Northern Pacific--were practicallydoing their best to build that immense transcontinental system alone. Naturally, they were long on that and hence in a ticklish position. Atthe first word they would throw over their surest securities--governmentbonds, and the like--in order to protect their more speculativeholdings. The bears would see the point. They would hammer and hammer, selling short all along the line. But he did not dare to do that. Hewould be breaking his own back quickly, and what he needed was time. Ifhe could only get time--three days, a week, ten days--this storm wouldsurely blow over. 

The thing that was troubling him most was the matter of the half-millioninvested with him by Stener. A fall election was drawing near. Stener, although he had served two terms, was slated for reelection. A scandalin connection with the city treasury would be a very bad thing. It wouldend Stener's career as an official--would very likely send him to thepenitentiary. It might wreck the Republican party's chances to win. Itwould certainly involve himself as having much to do with it. If thathappened, he would have the politicians to reckon with. For, if he werehard pressed, as he would be, and failed, the fact that he had beentrying to invade the city street-railway preserves which they heldsacred to themselves, with borrowed city money, and that this borrowingwas liable to cost them the city election, would all come out. Theywould not view all that with a kindly eye. It would be useless to say, as he could, that he had borrowed the money at two per cent. (most ofit, to save himself, had been covered by a protective clause of thatkind), or that he had merely acted as an agent for Stener. That might godown with the unsophisticated of the outer world, but it would never beswallowed by the politicians. They knew better than that. 

There was another phase to this situation, however, that encouraged him, and that was his knowledge of how city politics were going in general. It was useless for any politician, however loftly, to take a high andmighty tone in a crisis like this. All of them, great and small, wereprofiting in one way and another through city privileges. Butler, Mollenhauer, and Simpson, he knew, made money out of contracts--legalenough, though they might be looked upon as rank favoritism--and alsoout of vast sums of money collected in the shape of taxes--land taxes, water taxes, etc. --which were deposited in the various banks designatedby these men and others as legal depositories for city money. The bankssupposedly carried the city's money in their vaults as a favor, without paying interest of any kind, and then reinvested it--for whom?Cowperwood had no complaint to make, for he was being well treated, butthese men could scarcely expect to monopolize all the city's benefits. He did not know either Mollenhauer or Simpson personally--but he knewthey as well as Butler had made money out of his own manipulationof city loan. Also, Butler was most friendly to him. It was notunreasonable for him to think, in a crisis like this, that if worst cameto worst, he could make a clean breast of it to Butler and receive aid. In case he could not get through secretly with Stener's help, Cowperwoodmade up his mind that he would do this. 

His first move, he decided, would be to go at once to Stener's house anddemand the loan of an additional three or four hundred thousand dollars. Stener had always been very tractable, and in this instance would seehow important it was that his shortage of half a million should not bemade public. Then he must get as much more as possible. But where to getit? Presidents of banks and trust companies, large stock jobbers, andthe like, would have to be seen. Then there was a loan of one hundredthousand dollars he was carrying for Butler. The old contractor might beinduced to leave that. He hurried to his home, secured his runabout, anddrove rapidly to Stener's. 

As it turned out, however, much to his distress and confusion, Stenerwas out of town--down on the Chesapeake with several friends shootingducks and fishing, and was not expected back for several days. He was inthe marshes back of some small town. Cowperwood sent an urgent wire tothe nearest point and then, to make assurance doubly sure, to severalother points in the same neighborhood, asking him to return immediately. He was not at all sure, however, that Stener would return in time andwas greatly nonplussed and uncertain for the moment as to what his nextstep would be. Aid must be forthcoming from somewhere and at once. 

Suddenly a helpful thought occurred to him. Butler and Mollenhauer andSimpson were long on local street-railways. They must combine to supportthe situation and protect their interests. They could see the bigbankers, Drexel & Co. And Cooke & Co. , and others and urge them tosustain the market. They could strengthen things generally by organizinga buying ring, and under cover of their support, if they would, he mightsell enough to let him out, and even permit him to go short and makesomething--a whole lot. It was a brilliant thought, worthy of a greatersituation, and its only weakness was that it was not absolutely certainof fulfillment. 

He decided to go to Butler at once, the only disturbing thought beingthat he would now be compelled to reveal his own and Stener's affairs. So reentering his runabout he drove swiftly to the Butler home. 

When he arrived there the famous contractor was at dinner. He had notheard the calling of the extras, and of course, did not understandas yet the significance of the fire. The servant's announcement ofCowperwood brought him smiling to the door. 

"Won't you come in and join us? We're just havin' a light supper. Have acup of coffee or tea, now--do. "

"I can't, " replied Cowperwood. "Not to-night, I'm in too much of ahurry. I want to see you for just a few moments, and then I'll be offagain. I won't keep you very long. "

"Why, if that's the case, I'll come right out. " And Butler returned tothe dining-room to put down his napkin. Aileen, who was also dining, had heard Cowperwood's voice, and was on the qui vive to see him. Shewondered what it was that brought him at this time of night to see herfather. She could not leave the table at once, but hoped to before hewent. Cowperwood was thinking of her, even in the face of this impendingstorm, as he was of his wife, and many other things. If his affairscame down in a heap it would go hard with those attached to him. Inthis first clouding of disaster, he could not tell how thingswould eventuate. He meditated on this desperately, but he was notpanic-stricken. His naturally even-molded face was set in fine, classiclines; his eyes were as hard as chilled steel. 

"Well, now, " exclaimed Butler, returning, his countenance manifestinga decidedly comfortable relationship with the world as at presentconstituted. "What's up with you to-night? Nawthin' wrong, I hope. It'sbeen too fine a day. "

"Nothing very serious, I hope myself, " replied Cowperwood, "But I wantto talk with you a few minutes, anyhow. Don't you think we had better goup to your room?"

"I was just going to say that, " replied Butler--"the cigars are upthere. "

They started from the reception-room to the stairs, Butler precedingand as the contractor mounted, Aileen came out from the dining-room ina frou-frou of silk. Her splendid hair was drawn up from the base of theneck and the line of the forehead into some quaint convolutions whichconstituted a reddish-gold crown. Her complexion was glowing, and herbare arms and shoulders shone white against the dark red of her eveninggown. She realized there was something wrong. 

"Oh, Mr. Cowperwood, how do you do?" she exclaimed, coming forward andholding out her hand as her father went on upstairs. She was delayinghim deliberately in order to have a word with him and this bold actingwas for the benefit of the others. 

"What's the trouble, honey?" she whispered, as soon as her father wasout of hearing. "You look worried. "

"Nothing much, I hope, sweet, " he said. "Chicago is burning up andthere's going to be trouble to-morrow. I have to talk to your father. "

She had time only for a sympathetic, distressed "Oh, " before he withdrewhis hand and followed Butler upstairs. She squeezed his arm, and wentthrough the reception-room to the parlor. She sat down, thinking, fornever before had she seen Cowperwood's face wearing such an expressionof stern, disturbed calculation. It was placid, like fine, white wax, and quite as cold; and those deep, vague, inscrutable eyes! So Chicagowas burning. What would happen to him? Was he very much involved? He hadnever told her in detail of his affairs. She would not have understoodfully any more than would have Mrs. Cowperwood. But she was worried, nevertheless, because it was her Frank, and because she was bound to himby what to her seemed indissoluble ties. 

Literature, outside of the masters, has given us but one idea of themistress, the subtle, calculating siren who delights to prey on thesouls of men. The journalism and the moral pamphleteering of the timeseem to foster it with almost partisan zeal. It would seem that acensorship of life had been established by divinity, and the care of itsexecution given into the hands of the utterly conservative. Yet thereis that other form of liaison which has nothing to do with consciouscalculation. In the vast majority of cases it is without design orguile. The average woman, controlled by her affections and deeply inlove, is no more capable than a child of anything save sacrificialthought--the desire to give; and so long as this state endures, shecan only do this. She may change--Hell hath no fury, etc. --but thesacrificial, yielding, solicitous attitude is more often the outstandingcharacteristic of the mistress; and it is this very attitude incontradistinction to the grasping legality of established matrimony thathas caused so many wounds in the defenses of the latter. The temperamentof man, either male or female, cannot help falling down before andworshiping this nonseeking, sacrificial note. It approaches vastdistinction in life. It appears to be related to that last word in art, that largeness of spirit which is the first characteristic of thegreat picture, the great building, the great sculpture, the greatdecoration--namely, a giving, freely and without stint, of itself, ofbeauty. Hence the significance of this particular mood in Aileen. 

All the subtleties of the present combination were troubling Cowperwoodas he followed Butler into the room upstairs. 

"Sit down, sit down. You won't take a little somethin'? You never do. I remember now. Well, have a cigar, anyhow. Now, what's this that'stroublin' you to-night?"

Voices could be heard faintly in the distance, far off toward thethicker residential sections. 

"Extra! Extra! All about the big Chicago fire! Chicago burning down!"

"Just that, " replied Cowperwood, hearkening to them. "Have you heard thenews?"

"No. What's that they're calling?"

"It's a big fire out in Chicago. "

"Oh, " replied Butler, still not gathering the significance of it. 

"It's burning down the business section there, Mr. Butler, " went onCowperwood ominously, "and I fancy it's going to disturb financialconditions here to-morrow. That is what I have come to see you about. How are your investments? Pretty well drawn in?"

Butler suddenly gathered from Cowperwood's expression that there wassomething very wrong. He put up his large hand as he leaned back in hisbig leather chair, and covered his mouth and chin with it. Over thosebig knuckles, and bigger nose, thick and cartilaginous, his large, shaggy-eyebrowed eyes gleamed. His gray, bristly hair stood up stifflyin a short, even growth all over his head. 

"So that's it, " he said. "You're expectin' trouble to-morrow. How areyour own affairs?"

"I'm in pretty good shape, I think, all told, if the money element ofthis town doesn't lose its head and go wild. There has to be a lot ofcommon sense exercised to-morrow, or to-night, even. You know we arefacing a real panic. Mr. Butler, you may as well know that. It may notlast long, but while it does it will be bad. Stocks are going to dropto-morrow ten or fifteen points on the opening. The banks are going tocall their loans unless some arrangement can be made to prevent them. No one man can do that. It will have to be a combination of men. You andMr. Simpson and Mr. Mollenhauer might do it--that is, you could if youcould persuade the big banking people to combine to back the market. There is going to be a raid on local street-railways--all of them. Unless they are sustained the bottom is going to drop out. I have alwaysknown that you were long on those. I thought you and Mr. Mollenhauerand some of the others might want to act. If you don't I might as wellconfess that it is going to go rather hard with me. I am not strongenough to face this thing alone. "

He was meditating on how he should tell the whole truth in regard toStener. 

"Well, now, that's pretty bad, " said Butler, calmly and meditatively. He was thinking of his own affairs. A panic was not good for him either, but he was not in a desperate state. He could not fail. He might losesome money, but not a vast amount--before he could adjust things. Stillhe did not care to lose any money. 

"How is it you're so bad off?" he asked, curiously. He was wondering howthe fact that the bottom was going to drop out of local street-railwayswould affect Cowperwood so seriously. "You're not carryin' any of themthings, are you?" he added. 

It was now a question of lying or telling the truth, and Cowperwoodwas literally afraid to risk lying in this dilemma. If he did not gainButler's comprehending support he might fail, and if he failed the truthwould come out, anyhow. 

"I might as well make a clean breast of this, Mr. Butler, " he said, throwing himself on the old man's sympathies and looking at him withthat brisk assurance which Butler so greatly admired. He felt as proudof Cowperwood at times as he did of his own sons. He felt that he hadhelped to put him where he was. 

"The fact is that I have been buying street-railway stocks, but not formyself exactly. I am going to do something now which I think I ought notto do, but I cannot help myself. If I don't do it, it will injureyou and a lot of people whom I do not wish to injure. I know you arenaturally interested in the outcome of the fall election. The truth isI have been carrying a lot of stocks for Mr. Stener and some of hisfriends. I do not know that all the money has come from the citytreasury, but I think that most of it has. I know what that means toMr. Stener and the Republican party and your interests in case I fail. I don't think Mr. Stener started this of his own accord in the firstplace--I think I am as much to blame as anybody--but it grew out ofother things. As you know, I handled that matter of city loan for himand then some of his friends wanted me to invest in street-railwaysfor them. I have been doing that ever since. Personally I have borrowedconsiderable money from Mr. Stener at two per cent. In fact, originallythe transactions were covered in that way. Now I don't want to shift theblame on any one. It comes back to me and I am willing to let it staythere, except that if I fail Mr. Stener will be blamed and that willreflect on the administration. Naturally, I don't want to fail. There isno excuse for my doing so. Aside from this panic I have never been ina better position in my life. But I cannot weather this storm withoutassistance, and I want to know if you won't help me. If I pull throughI will give you my word that I will see that the money which has beentaken from the treasury is put back there. Mr. Stener is out of town orI would have brought him here with me. "

Cowperwood was lying out of the whole cloth in regard to bringing Stenerwith him, and he had no intention of putting the money back in the citytreasury except by degrees and in such manner as suited his convenience;but what he had said sounded well and created a great seeming offairness. 

"How much money is it Stener has invested with you?" asked Butler. Hewas a little confused by this curious development. It put Cowperwood andStener in an odd light. 

"About five hundred thousand dollars, " replied Cowperwood. 

The old man straightened up. "Is it as much as that?" he said. 

"Just about--a little more or a little less; I'm not sure which. "

The old contractor listened solemnly to all Cowperwood had to say onthis score, thinking of the effect on the Republican party and his owncontracting interests. He liked Cowperwood, but this was a rough thingthe latter was telling him--rough, and a great deal to ask. He was aslow-thinking and a slow-moving man, but he did well enough when he didthink. He had considerable money invested in Philadelphia street-railwaystocks--perhaps as much as eight hundred thousand dollars. Mollenhauerhad perhaps as much more. Whether Senator Simpson had much or little hecould not tell. Cowperwood had told him in the past that he thoughtthe Senator had a good deal. Most of their holdings, as in the case ofCowperwood's, were hypothecated at the various banks for loans and theseloans invested in other ways. It was not advisable or comfortableto have these loans called, though the condition of no one of thetriumvirate was anything like as bad as that of Cowperwood. They couldsee themselves through without much trouble, though not without probableloss unless they took hurried action to protect themselves. 

He would not have thought so much of it if Cowperwood had told him thatStener was involved, say, to the extent of seventy-five or a hundredthousand dollars. That might be adjusted. But five hundred thousanddollars!

"That's a lot of money, " said Butler, thinking of the amazing audacityof Stener, but failing at the moment to identify it with the astutemachinations of Cowperwood. "That's something to think about. There'sno time to lose if there's going to be a panic in the morning. How muchgood will it do ye if we do support the market?"

"A great deal, " returned Cowperwood, "although of course I have to raisemoney in other ways. I have that one hundred thousand dollars of yourson deposit. Is it likely that you'll want that right away?"

"It may be, " said Butler. 

"It's just as likely that I'll need it so badly that I can't give it upwithout seriously injuring myself, " added Cowperwood. "That's just oneof a lot of things. If you and Senator Simpson and Mr. Mollenhauerwere to get together--you're the largest holders of street-railwaystocks--and were to see Mr. Drexel and Mr. Cooke, you could fix thingsso that matters would be considerably easier. I will be all right if myloans are not called, and my loans will not be called if the market doesnot slump too heavily. If it does, all my securities are depreciated, and I can't hold out. "

Old Butler got up. "This is serious business, " he said. "I wish you'dnever gone in with Stener in that way. It don't look quite right and itcan't be made to. It's bad, bad business, " he added dourly. "Still, I'lldo what I can. I can't promise much, but I've always liked ye and I'llnot be turning on ye now unless I have to. But I'm sorry--very. And I'mnot the only one that has a hand in things in this town. " At the sametime he was thinking it was right decent of Cowperwood to forewarn himthis way in regard to his own affairs and the city election, even thoughhe was saving his own neck by so doing. He meant to do what he could. 

"I don't suppose you could keep this matter of Stener and the citytreasury quiet for a day or two until I see how I come out?" suggestedCowperwood warily. 

"I can't promise that, " replied Butler. "I'll have to do the best I can. I won't lave it go any further than I can help--you can depend on that. "He was thinking how the effect of Stener's crime could be overcome ifCowperwood failed. 

"Owen!"

He stepped to the door, and, opening it, called down over the banister. 

"Yes, father. "

"Have Dan hitch up the light buggy and bring it around to the door. Andyou get your hat and coat. I want you to go along with me. "

"Yes, father. "

He came back. 

"Sure that's a nice little storm in a teapot, now, isn't it? Chicagobegins to burn, and I have to worry here in Philadelphia. Well, well--"Cowperwood was up now and moving to the door. "And where are you going?"

"Back to the house. I have several people coming there to see me. ButI'll come back here later, if I may. "

"Yes, yes, " replied Butler. "To be sure I'll be here by midnight, anyhow. Well, good night. I'll see you later, then, I suppose. I'll tellyou what I find out. "

He went back in his room for something, and Cowperwood descended thestair alone. From the hangings of the reception-room entryway Aileensignaled him to draw near. 

"I hope it's nothing serious, honey?" she sympathized, looking into hissolemn eyes. 

It was not time for love, and he felt it. 

"No, " he said, almost coldly, "I think not. "

"Frank, don't let this thing make you forget me for long, please. Youwon't, will you? I love you so. "

"No, no, I won't!" he replied earnestly, quickly and yet absently. 

"I can't! Don't you know I won't?" He had started to kiss her, but anoise disturbed him. "Sh!"

He walked to the door, and she followed him with eager, sympatheticeyes. 

What if anything should happen to her Frank? What if anything could?What would she do? That was what was troubling her. What would, whatcould she do to help him? He looked so pale--strained. 

Chapter XXIV

The condition of the Republican party at this time in Philadelphia, its relationship to George W. Stener, Edward Malia Butler, Henry A. Mollenhauer, Senator Mark Simpson, and others, will have to be brieflyindicated here, in order to foreshadow Cowperwood's actual situation. Butler, as we have seen, was normally interested in and friendly toCowperwood. Stener was Cowperwood's tool. Mollenhauer and SenatorSimpson were strong rivals of Butler for the control of city affairs. Simpson represented the Republican control of the State legislature, which could dictate to the city if necessary, making new election laws, revising the city charter, starting political investigations, and thelike. He had many influential newspapers, corporations, banks, at hisbeck and call. Mollenhauer represented the Germans, some Americans, andsome large stable corporations--a very solid and respectable man. Allthree were strong, able, and dangerous politically. The two lattercounted on Butler's influence, particularly with the Irish, and acertain number of ward leaders and Catholic politicians and laymen, who were as loyal to him as though he were a part of the church itself. Butler's return to these followers was protection, influence, aid, and good-will generally. The city's return to him, via Mollenhauerand Simpson, was in the shape of contracts--fat ones--street-paving, bridges, viaducts, sewers. And in order for him to get these contractsthe affairs of the Republican party, of which he was a beneficiary aswell as a leader, must be kept reasonably straight. At the same time itwas no more a part of his need to keep the affairs of the party straightthan it was of either Mollenhauer's or Simpson's, and Stener was not hisappointee. The latter was more directly responsible to Mollenhauer thanto any one else. 

As Butler stepped into the buggy with his son he was thinking aboutthis, and it was puzzling him greatly. 

"Cowperwood's just been here, " he said to Owen, who had been rapidlycoming into a sound financial understanding of late, and was already ashrewder man politically and socially than his father, though he hadnot the latter's magnetism. "He's been tellin' me that he's in a rathertight place. You hear that?" he continued, as some voice in the distancewas calling "Extra! Extra!" "That's Chicago burnin', and there's goin'to be trouble on the stock exchange to-morrow. We have a lot of ourstreet-railway stocks around at the different banks. If we don't looksharp they'll be callin' our loans. We have to 'tend to that the firstthing in the mornin'. Cowperwood has a hundred thousand of mine with himthat he wants me to let stay there, and he has some money that belongsto Stener, he tells me. "

"Stener?" asked Owen, curiously. "Has he been dabbling in stocks?" Owenhad heard some rumors concerning Stener and others only very recently, which he had not credited nor yet communicated to his father. "How muchmoney of his has Cowperwood?" he asked. 

Butler meditated. "Quite a bit, I'm afraid, " he finally said. "As amatter of fact, it's a great deal--about five hundred thousand dollars. If that should become known, it would be makin' a good deal of noise, I'm thinkin'. "

"Whew!" exclaimed Owen in astonishment. "Five hundred thousand dollars!Good Lord, father! Do you mean to say Stener has got away with fivehundred thousand dollars? Why, I wouldn't think he was clever enough todo that. Five hundred thousand dollars! It will make a nice row if thatcomes out. "

"Aisy, now! Aisy, now!" replied Butler, doing his best to keep allphases of the situation in mind. "We can't tell exactly what thecircumstances were yet. He mayn't have meant to take so much. It may allcome out all right yet. The money's invested. Cowperwood hasn't failedyet. It may be put back. The thing to be settled on now is whetheranything can be done to save him. If he's tellin' me the truth--and Inever knew him to lie--he can get out of this if street-railway stocksdon't break too heavy in the mornin'. I'm going over to see HenryMollenhauer and Mark Simpson. They're in on this. Cowperwood wanted meto see if I couldn't get them to get the bankers together and have themstand by the market. He thought we might protect our loans by comin' onand buyin' and holdin' up the price. "

Owen was running swiftly in his mind over Cowperwood's affairs--as muchas he knew of them. He felt keenly that the banker ought to be shakenout. This dilemma was his fault, not Stener's--he felt. It was strangeto him that his father did not see it and resent it. 

"You see what it is, father, " he said, dramatically, after a time. "Cowperwood's been using this money of Stener's to pick up stocks, andhe's in a hole. If it hadn't been for this fire he'd have got away withit; but now he wants you and Simpson and Mollenhauer and the others topull him out. He's a nice fellow, and I like him fairly well; but you'rea fool if you do as he wants you to. He has more than belongs to himalready. I heard the other day that he has the Front Street line, and almost all of Green and Coates; and that he and Stener own theSeventeenth and Nineteenth; but I didn't believe it. I've been intendingto ask you about it. I think Cowperwood has a majority for himselfstowed away somewhere in every instance. Stener is just a pawn. He moveshim around where he pleases. "

Owen's eyes gleamed avariciously, opposingly. Cowperwood ought to bepunished, sold out, driven out of the street-railway business in whichOwen was anxious to rise. 

"Now you know, " observed Butler, thickly and solemnly, "I always thoughtthat young felly was clever, but I hardly thought he was as clever asall that. So that's his game. You're pretty shrewd yourself, aren't you?Well, we can fix that, if we think well of it. But there's more thanthat to all this. You don't want to forget the Republican party. Oursuccess goes with the success of that, you know"--and he paused andlooked at his son. "If Cowperwood should fail and that money couldn't beput back--" He broke off abstractedly. "The thing that's troublin' meis this matter of Stener and the city treasury. If somethin' ain't doneabout that, it may go hard with the party this fall, and with some ofour contracts. You don't want to forget that an election is comin'along in November. I'm wonderin' if I ought to call in that one hundredthousand dollars. It's goin' to take considerable money to meet my loansin the mornin'. "

It is a curious matter of psychology, but it was only now that the realdifficulties of the situation were beginning to dawn on Butler. Inthe presence of Cowperwood he was so influenced by that young man'spersonality and his magnetic presentation of his need and his own likingfor him that he had not stopped to consider all the phases of his ownrelationship to the situation. Out here in the cool night air, talking to Owen, who was ambitious on his own account and anything butsentimentally considerate of Cowperwood, he was beginning to sober downand see things in their true light. He had to admit that Cowperwood hadseriously compromised the city treasury and the Republican party, andincidentally Butler's own private interests. Nevertheless, he likedCowperwood. He was in no way prepared to desert him. He was now goingto see Mollenhauer and Simpson as much to save Cowperwood really asthe party and his own affairs. And yet a scandal. He did not likethat--resented it. This young scalawag! To think he should be so sly. None the less he still liked him, even here and now, and was feelingthat he ought to do something to help the young man, if anything couldhelp him. He might even leave his hundred-thousand-dollar loan with himuntil the last hour, as Cowperwood had requested, if the others werefriendly. 

"Well, father, " said Owen, after a time, "I don't see why you need toworry any more than Mollenhauer or Simpson. If you three want to helphim out, you can; but for the life of me I don't see why you should. Iknow this thing will have a bad effect on the election, if it comes outbefore then; but it could be hushed up until then, couldn't it? Anyhow, your street-railway holdings are more important than this election, andif you can see your way clear to getting the street-railway lines inyour hands you won't need to worry about any elections. My advice toyou is to call that one-hundred-thousand-dollar loan of yours inthe morning, and meet the drop in your stocks that way. It may makeCowperwood fail, but that won't hurt you any. You can go into the marketand buy his stocks. I wouldn't be surprised if he would run to you andask you to take them. You ought to get Mollenhauer and Simpson to scareStener so that he won't loan Cowperwood any more money. If you don't, Cowperwood will run there and get more. Stener's in too far now. IfCowperwood won't sell out, well and good; the chances are he will bust, anyhow, and then you can pick up as much on the market as any oneelse. I think he'll sell. You can't afford to worry about Stener's fivehundred thousand dollars. No one told him to loan it. Let him look outfor himself. It may hurt the party, but you can look after that later. You and Mollenhauer can fix the newspapers so they won't talk about ittill after election. "

"Aisy! Aisy!" was all the old contractor would say. He was thinkinghard. 

Chapter XXV

The residence of Henry A. Mollenhauer was, at that time, in a section ofthe city which was almost as new as that in which Butler was living. Itwas on South Broad Street, near a handsome library building which hadbeen recently erected. It was a spacious house of the type usuallyaffected by men of new wealth in those days--a structure four stories inheight of yellow brick and white stone built after no school whichone could readily identify, but not unattractive in its architecturalcomposition. A broad flight of steps leading to a wide veranda gave intoa decidedly ornate door, which was set on either side by narrow windowsand ornamented to the right and left with pale-blue jardinieres ofconsiderable charm of outline. The interior, divided into twenty rooms, was paneled and parqueted in the most expensive manner for homes of thatday. There was a great reception-hall, a large parlor or drawing-room, a dining-room at least thirty feet square paneled in oak; and on thesecond floor were a music-room devoted to the talents of Mollenhauer'sthree ambitious daughters, a library and private office for himself, aboudoir and bath for his wife, and a conservatory. 

Mollenhauer was, and felt himself to be, a very important man. Hisfinancial and political judgment was exceedingly keen. Although he wasa German, or rather an American of German parentage, he was a man of arather impressive American presence. He was tall and heavy and shrewdand cold. His large chest and wide shoulders supported a head ofdistinguished proportions, both round and long when seen from differentangles. The frontal bone descended in a protruding curve over thenose, and projected solemnly over the eyes, which burned with a shrewd, inquiring gaze. And the nose and mouth and chin below, as well as hissmooth, hard cheeks, confirmed the impression that he knew very wellwhat he wished in this world, and was very able without regard to let orhindrance to get it. It was a big face, impressive, well modeled. He wasan excellent friend of Edward Malia Butler's, as such friendships go, and his regard for Mark Simpson was as sincere as that of one tiger foranother. He respected ability; he was willing to play fair when fairwas the game. When it was not, the reach of his cunning was not easilymeasured. 

When Edward Butler and his son arrived on this Sunday evening, thisdistinguished representative of one-third of the city's interests wasnot expecting them. He was in his library reading and listening to oneof his daughters playing the piano. His wife and his other two daughtershad gone to church. He was of a domestic turn of mind. Still, Sundayevening being an excellent one for conference purposes generally in theworld of politics, he was not without the thought that some one or otherof his distinguished confreres might call, and when the combinationfootman and butler announced the presence of Butler and his son, he waswell pleased. 

"So there you are, " he remarked to Butler, genially, extending his hand. "I'm certainly glad to see you. And Owen! How are you, Owen? What willyou gentlemen have to drink, and what will you smoke? I know you'll havesomething. John"--to the servitor---"see if you can find something forthese gentlemen. I have just been listening to Caroline play; but Ithink you've frightened her off for the time being. "

He moved a chair into position for Butler, and indicated to Owen anotheron the other side of the table. In a moment his servant had returnedwith a silver tray of elaborate design, carrying whiskies and wines ofvarious dates and cigars in profusion. Owen was the new type of youngfinancier who neither smoked nor drank. His father temperately did both. 

"It's a comfortable place you have here, " said Butler, without anyindication of the important mission that had brought him. "I don'twonder you stay at home Sunday evenings. What's new in the city?"

"Nothing much, so far as I can see, " replied Mollenhauer, pacifically. "Things seem to be running smooth enough. You don't know anything thatwe ought to worry about, do you?"

"Well, yes, " said Butler, draining off the remainder of a brandy andsoda that had been prepared for him. "One thing. You haven't seen anavenin' paper, have you?"

"No, I haven't, " said Mollenhauer, straightening up. "Is there one out?What's the trouble anyhow?"

"Nothing--except Chicago's burning, and it looks as though we'd have alittle money-storm here in the morning. "

"You don't say! I didn't hear that. There's a paper out, is there? Well, well--is it much of a fire?"

"The city is burning down, so they say, " put in Owen, who was watchingthe face of the distinguished politician with considerable interest. 

"Well, that is news. I must send out and get a paper. John!" he called. His man-servant appeared. "See if you can get me a paper somewhere. " Theservant disappeared. "What makes you think that would have anything todo with us?" observed Mollenhauer, returning to Butler. 

"Well, there's one thing that goes with that that I didn't know till alittle while ago and that is that our man Stener is apt to be short inhis accounts, unless things come out better than some people seem tothink, " suggested Butler, calmly. "That might not look so wellbefore election, would it?" His shrewd gray Irish eyes looked intoMollenhauer's, who returned his gaze. 

"Where did you get that?" queried Mr. Mollenhauer icily. "He hasn'tdeliberately taken much money, has he? How much has he taken--do youknow?"

"Quite a bit, " replied Butler, quietly. "Nearly five hundred thousand, so I understand. Only I wouldn't say that it has been taken as yet. It'sin danger of being lost. "

"Five hundred thousand!" exclaimed Mollenhauer in amazement, and yetpreserving his usual calm. "You don't tell me! How long has this beengoing on? What has he been doing with the money?"

"He's loaned a good deal--about five hundred thousand dollars to thisyoung Cowperwood in Third Street, that's been handlin' cityloan. They've been investin' it for themselves in one thing andanother--mostly in buyin' up street-railways. " (At the mention ofstreet-railways Mollenhauer's impassive countenance underwent a barelyperceptible change. ) "This fire, accordin' to Cowperwood, is certain toproduce a panic in the mornin', and unless he gets considerable help hedoesn't see how he's to hold out. If he doesn't hold out, there'll befive hundred thousand dollars missin' from the city treasury which can'tbe put back. Stener's out of town and Cowperwood's come to me to seewhat can be done about it. As a matter of fact, he's done a littlebusiness for me in times past, and he thought maybe I could help himnow--that is, that I might get you and the Senator to see the bigbankers with me and help support the market in the mornin'. If we don'the's goin' to fail, and he thought the scandal would hurt us in theelection. He doesn't appear to me to be workin' any game--just anxiousto save himself and do the square thing by me--by us, if he can. " Butlerpaused. 

Mollenhauer, sly and secretive himself, was apparently not at all movedby this unexpected development. At the same time, never having thoughtof Stener as having any particular executive or financial ability, he was a little stirred and curious. So his treasurer was using moneywithout his knowing it, and now stood in danger of being prosecuted!Cowperwood he knew of only indirectly, as one who had been engaged tohandle city loan. He had profited by his manipulation of city loan. Evidently the banker had made a fool of Stener, and had used the moneyfor street-railway shares! He and Stener must have quite some privateholdings then. That did interest Mollenhauer greatly. 

"Five hundred thousand dollars!" he repeated, when Butler had finished. "That is quite a little money. If merely supporting the market wouldsave Cowperwood we might do that, although if it's a severe panic I donot see how anything we can do will be of very much assistance to him. If he's in a very tight place and a severe slump is coming, it will takea great deal more than our merely supporting the market to save him. I've been through that before. You don't know what his liabilities are?"

"I do not, " said Butler. 

"He didn't ask for money, you say?"

"He wants me to l'ave a hundred thousand he has of mine until he seeswhether he can get through or not. "

"Stener is really out of town, I suppose?" Mollenhauer was innatelysuspicious. 

"So Cowperwood says. We can send and find out. "

Mollenhauer was thinking of the various aspects of the case. Supportingthe market would be all very well if that would save Cowperwood, and theRepublican party and his treasurer. At the same time Stener could thenbe compelled to restore the five hundred thousand dollars to thecity treasury, and release his holdings to some one--preferably tohim--Mollenhauer. But here was Butler also to be considered in thismatter. What might he not want? He consulted with Butler and learnedthat Cowperwood had agreed to return the five hundred thousand in casehe could get it together. The various street-car holdings were not askedafter. But what assurance had any one that Cowperwood could be so saved?And could, or would get the money together? And if he were saved wouldhe give the money back to Stener? If he required actual money, who wouldloan it to him in a time like this--in case a sharp panic was imminent?What security could he give? On the other hand, under pressure fromthe right parties he might be made to surrender all his street-railwayholdings for a song--his and Stener's. If he (Mollenhauer) could getthem he would not particularly care whether the election was lost thisfall or not, although he felt satisfied, as had Owen, that it would notbe lost. It could be bought, as usual. The defalcation--if Cowperwood'sfailure made Stener's loan into one--could be concealed long enough, Mollenhauer thought, to win. Personally as it came to him now he wouldprefer to frighten Stener into refusing Cowperwood additional aid, and then raid the latter's street-railway stock in combination witheverybody else's, for that matter--Simpson's and Butler's included. Oneof the big sources of future wealth in Philadelphia lay in these lines. For the present, however, he had to pretend an interest in saving theparty at the polls. 

"I can't speak for the Senator, that's sure, " pursued Mollenhauer, reflectively. "I don't know what he may think. As for myself, I amperfectly willing to do what I can to keep up the price of stocks, ifthat will do any good. I would do so naturally in order to protect myloans. The thing that we ought to be thinking about, in my judgment, ishow to prevent exposure, in case Mr. Cowperwood does fail, until afterelection. We have no assurance, of course, that however much we supportthe market we will be able to sustain it. "

"We have not, " replied Butler, solemnly. 

Owen thought he could see Cowperwood's approaching doom quite plainly. At that moment the door-bell rang. A maid, in the absence of thefootman, brought in the name of Senator Simpson. 

"Just the man, " said Mollenhauer. "Show him up. You can see what hethinks. "

"Perhaps I had better leave you alone now, " suggested Owen to hisfather. "Perhaps I can find Miss Caroline, and she will sing for me. I'll wait for you, father, " he added. 

Mollenhauer cast him an ingratiating smile, and as he stepped outSenator Simpson walked in. 

A more interesting type of his kind than Senator Mark Simpson neverflourished in the State of Pennsylvania, which has been productive ofinteresting types. Contrasted with either of the two men who now greetedhim warmly and shook his hand, he was physically unimpressive. He wassmall--five feet nine inches, to Mollenhauer's six feet and Butler'sfive feet eleven inches and a half, and then his face was smooth, with areceding jaw. In the other two this feature was prominent. Nor werehis eyes as frank as those of Butler, nor as defiant as those ofMollenhauer; but for subtlety they were unmatched by either--deep, strange, receding, cavernous eyes which contemplated you as might thoseof a cat looking out of a dark hole, and suggesting all the artfulnessthat has ever distinguished the feline family. He had a strange mop ofblack hair sweeping down over a fine, low, white forehead, and a skinas pale and bluish as poor health might make it; but there was, nevertheless, resident here a strange, resistant, capable force thatruled men--the subtlety with which he knew how to feed cupidity withhope and gain and the ruthlessness with which he repaid those who saidhim nay. He was a still man, as such a man might well have been--feebleand fish-like in his handshake, wan and slightly lackadaisical in hissmile, but speaking always with eyes that answered for every defect. 

"Av'nin', Mark, I'm glad to see you, " was Butler's greeting. 

"How are you, Edward?" came the quiet reply. 

"Well, Senator, you're not looking any the worse for wear. Can I pouryou something?"

"Nothing to-night, Henry, " replied Simpson. "I haven't long to stay. Ijust stopped by on my way home. My wife's over here at the Cavanaghs', and I have to stop by to fetch her. "

"Well, it's a good thing you dropped in, Senator, just when you did, "began Mollenhauer, seating himself after his guest. "Butler here hasbeen telling me of a little political problem that has arisen since Ilast saw you. I suppose you've heard that Chicago is burning?"

"Yes; Cavanagh was just telling me. It looks to be quite serious. Ithink the market will drop heavily in the morning. "

"I wouldn't be surprised myself, " put in Mollenhauer, laconically. 

"Here's the paper now, " said Butler, as John, the servant, came in fromthe street bearing the paper in his hand. Mollenhauer took it and spreadit out before them. It was among the earliest of the "extras" that wereissued in this country, and contained a rather impressive spread of typeannouncing that the conflagration in the lake city was growing hourlyworse since its inception the day before. 

"Well, that is certainly dreadful, " said Simpson. "I'm very sorry forChicago. I have many friends there. I shall hope to hear that it is notso bad as it seems. "

The man had a rather grandiloquent manner which he never abandoned underany circumstances. 

"The matter that Butler was telling me about, " continued Mollenhauer, "has something to do with this in a way. You know the habit our citytreasurers have of loaning out their money at two per cent. ?"

"Yes?" said Simpson, inquiringly. 

"Well, Mr. Stener, it seems, has been loaning out a good deal of thecity's money to this young Cowperwood, in Third Street, who has beenhandling city loans. "

"You don't say!" said Simpson, putting on an air of surprise. "Not much, I hope?" The Senator, like Butler and Mollenhauer, was profitinggreatly by cheap loans from the same source to various designated citydepositories. 

"Well, it seems that Stener has loaned him as much as five hundredthousand dollars, and if by any chance Cowperwood shouldn't be ableto weather this storm, Stener is apt to be short that amount, and thatwouldn't look so good as a voting proposition to the people in November, do you think? Cowperwood owes Mr. Butler here one hundred thousanddollars, and because of that he came to see him to-night. He wantedButler to see if something couldn't be done through us to tide him over. If not"--he waved one hand suggestively--"well, he might fail. "

Simpson fingered his strange, wide mouth with his delicate hand. "Whathave they been doing with the five hundred thousand dollars?" he asked. 

"Oh, the boys must make a little somethin' on the side, " said Butler, cheerfully. "I think they've been buyin' up street-railways, forone thing. " He stuck his thumbs in the armholes of his vest. BothMollenhauer and Simpson smiled wan smiles. 

"Quite so, " said Mollenhauer. Senator Simpson merely looked the deepthings that he thought. 

He, too, was thinking how useless it was for any one to approach a groupof politicians with a proposition like this, particularly in a crisissuch as bid fair to occur. He reflected that if he and Butler andMollenhauer could get together and promise Cowperwood protection inreturn for the surrender of his street-railway holdings it would be avery different matter. It would be very easy in this case to carry thecity treasury loan along in silence and even issue more money to supportit; but it was not sure, in the first place, that Cowperwood could bemade to surrender his stocks, and in the second place that either Butleror Mollenhauer would enter into any such deal with him, Simpson. Butlerhad evidently come here to say a good word for Cowperwood. Mollenhauerand himself were silent rivals. Although they worked togetherpolitically it was toward essentially different financial ends. Theywere allied in no one particular financial proposition, any more thanMollenhauer and Butler were. And besides, in all probability Cowperwoodwas no fool. He was not equally guilty with Stener; the latter hadloaned him money. The Senator reflected on whether he should broachsome such subtle solution of the situation as had occurred to him to hiscolleagues, but he decided not. Really Mollenhauer was too treacherousa man to work with on a thing of this kind. It was a splendid chance butdangerous. He had better go it alone. For the present they should demandof Stener that he get Cowperwood to return the five hundred thousanddollars if he could. If not, Stener could be sacrificed for the benefitof the party, if need be. Cowperwood's stocks, with this tip as to hiscondition, would, Simpson reflected, offer a good opportunity for alittle stock-exchange work on the part of his own brokers. They couldspread rumors as to Cowperwood's condition and then offer to take hisshares off his hands--for a song, of course. It was an evil moment thatled Cowperwood to Butler. 

"Well, now, " said the Senator, after a prolonged silence, "I mightsympathize with Mr. Cowperwood in his situation, and I certainly don'tblame him for buying up street-railways if he can; but I really don'tsee what can be done for him very well in this crisis. I don't knowabout you, gentlemen, but I am rather certain that I am not in aposition to pick other people's chestnuts out of the fire if I wantedto, just now. It all depends on whether we feel that the danger tothe party is sufficient to warrant our going down into our pockets andassisting him. "

At the mention of real money to be loaned Mollenhauer pulled along face. "I can't see that I will be able to do very much for Mr. Cowperwood, " he sighed. 

"Begad, " said Buler, with a keen sense of humor, "it looks to me as ifI'd better be gettin' in my one hundred thousand dollars. That's thefirst business of the early mornin'. " Neither Simpson nor Mollenhauercondescended on this occasion to smile even the wan smile they hadsmiled before. They merely looked wise and solemn. 

"But this matter of the city treasury, now, " said Senator Simpson, afterthe atmosphere had been allowed to settle a little, "is something towhich we shall have to devote a little thought. If Mr. Cowperwood shouldfail, and the treasury lose that much money, it would embarrass us nolittle. What lines are they, " he added, as an afterthought, "that thisman has been particularly interested in?"

"I really don't know, " replied Butler, who did not care to say what Owenhad told him on the drive over. 

"I don't see, " said Mollenhauer, "unless we can make Stener get themoney back before this man Cowperwood fails, how we can save ourselvesfrom considerable annoyance later; but if we did anything which wouldlook as though we were going to compel restitution, he would probablyshut up shop anyhow. So there's no remedy in that direction. And itwouldn't be very kind to our friend Edward here to do it until we hearhow he comes out on his affair. " He was referring to Butler's loan. 

"Certainly not, " said Senator Simpson, with true political sagacity andfeeling. 

"I'll have that one hundred thousand dollars in the mornin', " saidButler, "and never fear. "

"I think, " said Simpson, "if anything comes of this matter that wewill have to do our best to hush it up until after the election. Thenewspapers can just as well keep silent on that score as not. There's one thing I would suggest"--and he was now thinking ofthe street-railway properties which Cowperwood had so judiciouslycollected--"and that is that the city treasurer be cautioned againstadvancing any more money in a situation of this kind. He might readilybe compromised into advancing much more. I suppose a word from you, Henry, would prevent that. "

"Yes; I can do that, " said Mollenhauer, solemnly. 

"My judgement would be, " said Butler, in a rather obscure manner, thinking of Cowperwood's mistake in appealing to these noble protectorsof the public, "that it's best to let sleepin' dogs run be thimselves. "

Thus ended Frank Cowperwood's dreams of what Butler and his politicalassociates might do for him in his hour of distress. 

The energies of Cowperwood after leaving Butler were devoted to the taskof seeing others who might be of some assistance to him. He had leftword with Mrs. Stener that if any message came from her husband he wasto be notified at once. He hunted up Walter Leigh, of Drexel & Co. , Avery Stone of Jay Cooke & Co. , and President Davison of the GirardNational Bank. He wanted to see what they thought of the situation andto negotiate a loan with President Davison covering all his real andpersonal property. 

"I can't tell you, Frank, " Walter Leigh insisted, "I don't know howthings will be running by to-morrow noon. I'm glad to know how youstand. I'm glad you're doing what you're doing--getting all your affairsin shape. It will help a lot. I'll favor you all I possibly can. But ifthe chief decides on a certain group of loans to be called, they'll haveto be called, that's all. I'll do my best to make things look better. If the whole of Chicago is wiped out, the insurance companies--some ofthem, anyhow--are sure to go, and then look out. I suppose you'll callin all your loans?"

"Not any more than I have to. "

"Well, that's just the way it is here--or will be. "

The two men shook hands. They liked each other. Leigh was of the city'sfashionable coterie, a society man to the manner born, but with a wealthof common sense and a great deal of worldly experience. 

"I'll tell you, Frank, " he observed at parting, "I've always thought youwere carrying too much street-railway. It's great stuff if you can getaway with it, but it's just in a pinch like this that you're apt to gethurt. You've been making money pretty fast out of that and city loans. "

He looked directly into his long-time friend's eyes, and they smiled. 

It was the same with Avery Stone, President Davison, and others. Theyhad all already heard rumors of disaster when he arrived. They were notsure what the morrow would bring forth. It looked very unpromising. 

Cowperwood decided to stop and see Butler again for he felt certain hisinterview with Mollenhauer and Simpson was now over. Butler, who hadbeen meditating what he should say to Cowperwood, was not unfriendly inhis manner. "So you're back, " he said, when Cowperwood appeared. 

"Yes, Mr. Butler. "

"Well, I'm not sure that I've been able to do anything for you. I'mafraid not, " Butler said, cautiously. "It's a hard job you set me. Mollenhauer seems to think that he'll support the market, on his ownaccount. I think he will. Simpson has interests which he has to protect. I'm going to buy for myself, of course. "

He paused to reflect. 

"I couldn't get them to call a conference with any of the big moneyedmen as yet, " he added, warily. "They'd rather wait and see what happensin the mornin'. Still, I wouldn't be down-hearted if I were you. Ifthings turn out very bad they may change their minds. I had to tell themabout Stener. It's pretty bad, but they're hopin' you'll come throughand straighten that out. I hope so. About my own loan--well, I'll seehow things are in the mornin'. If I raisonably can I'll lave it withyou. You'd better see me again about it. I wouldn't try to get any moremoney out of Stener if I were you. It's pretty bad as it is. "

Cowperwood saw at once that he was to get no aid from the politicians. The one thing that disturbed him was this reference to Stener. Had theyalready communicated with him--warned him? If so, his own coming toButler had been a bad move; and yet from the point of view of hispossible failure on the morrow it had been advisable. At least now thepoliticians knew where he stood. If he got in a very tight corner hewould come to Butler again--the politicians could assist him or not, as they chose. If they did not help him and he failed, and the electionwere lost, it was their own fault. Anyhow, if he could see Stener firstthe latter would not be such a fool as to stand in his own light in acrisis like this. 

"Things look rather dark to-night, Mr. Butler, " he said, smartly, "but Istill think I'll come through. I hope so, anyhow. I'm sorry to have putyou to so much trouble. I wish, of course, that you gentlemen couldsee your way clear to assist me, but if you can't, you can't. I have anumber of things that I can do. I hope that you will leave your loan aslong as you can. "

He went briskly out, and Butler meditated. "A clever young chap that, "he said. "It's too bad. But he may come out all right at that. "

Cowperwood hurried to his own home only to find his father awakeand brooding. To him he talked with that strong vein of sympathy andunderstanding which is usually characteristic of those drawn by tiesof flesh and blood. He liked his father. He sympathized with hispainstaking effort to get up in the world. He could not forget that as aboy he had had the loving sympathy and interest of his father. The loanwhich he had from the Third National, on somewhat weak Union StreetRailway shares he could probably replace if stocks did not drop tootremendously. He must replace this at all costs. But his father'sinvestments in street-railways, which had risen with his own ventures, and which now involved an additional two hundred thousand--how could heprotect those? The shares were hypothecated and the money was usedfor other things. Additional collateral would have to be furnished theseveral banks carrying them. It was nothing except loans, loans, loans, and the need of protecting them. If he could only get an additionaldeposit of two or three hundred thousand dollars from Stener. But that, in the face of possible financial difficulties, was rank criminality. All depended on the morrow. 

Monday, the ninth, dawned gray and cheerless. He was up with the firstray of light, shaved and dressed, and went over, under the gray-greenpergola, to his father's house. He was up, also, and stirring about, forhe had not been able to sleep. His gray eyebrows and gray hair lookedrather shaggy and disheveled, and his side-whiskers anything butdecorative. The old gentleman's eyes were tired, and his face was gray. Cowperwood could see that he was worrying. He looked up from a small, ornate escritoire of buhl, which Ellsworth had found somewhere, andwhere he was quietly tabulating a list of his resources and liabilities. Cowperwood winced. He hated to see his father worried, but he could nothelp it. He had hoped sincerely, when they built their houses together, that the days of worry for his father had gone forever. 

"Counting up?" he asked, familiarly, with a smile. He wanted to heartenthe old gentleman as much as possible. 

"I was just running over my affairs again to see where I stood incase--" He looked quizzically at his son, and Frank smiled again. 

"I wouldn't worry, father. I told you how I fixed it so that Butler andthat crowd will support the market. I have Rivers and Targool and HarryEltinge on 'change helping me sell out, and they are the best men there. They'll handle the situation carefully. I couldn't trust Ed or Joe inthis case, for the moment they began to sell everybody would know whatwas going on with me. This way my men will seem like bears hammering themarket, but not hammering too hard. I ought to be able to unload enoughat ten points off to raise five hundred thousand. The market may not golower than that. You can't tell. It isn't going to sink indefinitely. If I just knew what the big insurance companies were going to do! Themorning paper hasn't come yet, has it?"

He was going to pull a bell, but remembered that the servants wouldscarcely be up as yet. He went to the front door himself. There were thePress and the Public Ledger lying damp from the presses. He picked themup and glanced at the front pages. His countenance fell. On one, thePress, was spread a great black map of Chicago, a most funereal-lookingthing, the black portion indicating the burned section. He had neverseen a map of Chicago before in just this clear, definite way. Thatwhite portion was Lake Michigan, and there was the Chicago Riverdividing the city into three almost equal portions--the north side, thewest side, the south side. He saw at once that the city was curiouslyarranged, somewhat like Philadelphia, and that the business section wasprobably an area of two or three miles square, set at the juncture ofthe three sides, and lying south of the main stem of the river, whereit flowed into the lake after the southwest and northwest branches hadunited to form it. This was a significant central area; but, accordingto this map, it was all burned out. "Chicago in Ashes" ran a greatside-heading set in heavily leaded black type. It went on to detail thesufferings of the homeless, the number of the dead, the number of thosewhose fortunes had been destroyed. Then it descanted upon the probableeffect in the East. Insurance companies and manufacturers might not beable to meet the great strain of all this. 

"Damn!" said Cowperwood gloomily. "I wish I were out of thisstock-jobbing business. I wish I had never gotten into it. " He returnedto his drawing-room and scanned both accounts most carefully. 

Then, though it was still early, he and his father drove to his office. There were already messages awaiting him, a dozen or more, to cancelor sell. While he was standing there a messenger-boy brought him threemore. One was from Stener and said that he would be back by twelveo'clock, the very earliest he could make it. Cowperwood was relieved andyet distressed. He would need large sums of money to meet various loansbefore three. Every hour was precious. He must arrange to meet Stener atthe station and talk to him before any one else should see him. Clearlythis was going to be a hard, dreary, strenuous day. 

Third Street, by the time he reached there, was stirring with otherbankers and brokers called forth by the exigencies of the occasion. There was a suspicious hurrying of feet--that intensity which makesall the difference in the world between a hundred people placid and ahundred people disturbed. At the exchange, the atmosphere was feverish. At the sound of the gong, the staccato uproar began. Its metallicvibrations were still in the air when the two hundred men who composedthis local organization at its utmost stress of calculation, threwthemselves upon each other in a gibbering struggle to dispose of orseize bargains of the hour. The interests were so varied that it wasimpossible to say at which pole it was best to sell or buy. 

Targool and Rivers had been delegated to stay at the center of things, Joseph and Edward to hover around on the outside and to pick up suchopportunities of selling as might offer a reasonable return on thestock. The "bears" were determined to jam things down, and it alldepended on how well the agents of Mollenhauer, Simpson, Butler, andothers supported things in the street-railway world whether those stocksretained any strength or not. The last thing Butler had said the nightbefore was that they would do the best they could. They would buy up toa certain point. Whether they would support the market indefinitely hewould not say. He could not vouch for Mollenhauer and Simpson. Nor didhe know the condition of their affairs. 

While the excitement was at its highest Cowperwood came in. As hestood in the door looking to catch the eye of Rivers, the 'change gongsounded, and trading stopped. All the brokers and traders faced aboutto the little balcony, where the secretary of the 'change made hisannouncements; and there he stood, the door open behind him, a small, dark, clerkly man of thirty-eight or forty, whose spare figure and paleface bespoke the methodic mind that knows no venturous thought. In hisright hand he held a slip of white paper. 

"The American Fire Insurance Company of Boston announces its inabilityto meet its obligations. " The gong sounded again. 

Immediately the storm broke anew, more voluble than before, because, if after one hour of investigation on this Monday morning one insurancecompany had gone down, what would four or five hours or a day or twobring forth? It meant that men who had been burned out in Chicago wouldnot be able to resume business. It meant that all loans connectedwith this concern had been, or would be called now. And the cries offrightened "bulls" offering thousand and five thousand lot holdings inNorthern Pacific, Illinois Central, Reading, Lake Shore, Wabash; in allthe local streetcar lines; and in Cowperwood's city loans at constantlyfalling prices was sufficient to take the heart out of all concerned. He hurried to Arthur Rivers's side in the lull; but there was little hecould say. 

"It looks as though the Mollenhauer and Simpson crowds aren't doing muchfor the market, " he observed, gravely. 

"They've had advices from New York, " explained Rivers solemnly. "Itcan't be supported very well. There are three insurance companies overthere on the verge of quitting, I understand. I expect to see themposted any minute. "

They stepped apart from the pandemonium, to discuss ways and means. Under his agreement with Stener, Cowperwood could buy up to one hundredthousand dollars of city loan, above the customary wash sales, or marketmanipulation, by which they were making money. This was in case themarket had to be genuinely supported. He decided to buy sixty thousanddollars worth now, and use this to sustain his loans elsewhere. Stenerwould pay him for this instantly, giving him more ready cash. Itmight help him in one way and another; and, anyhow, it might tend tostrengthen the other securities long enough at least to allow him torealize a little something now at better than ruinous rates. If onlyhe had the means "to go short" on this market! If only doing so did notreally mean ruin to his present position. It was characteristic of theman that even in this crisis he should be seeing how the very thing thatof necessity, because of his present obligations, might ruin him, mightalso, under slightly different conditions, yield him a great harvest. Hecould not take advantage of it, however. He could not be on both sidesof this market. It was either "bear" or "bull, " and of necessity he was"bull. " It was strange but true. His subtlety could not avail him here. He was about to turn and hurry to see a certain banker who might loanhim something on his house, when the gong struck again. Once moretrading ceased. Arthur Rivers, from his position at the State securitiespost, where city loan was sold, and where he had started to buy forCowperwood, looked significantly at him. Newton Targool hurried toCowperwood's side. 

"You're up against it, " he exclaimed. "I wouldn't try to sell againstthis market. It's no use. They're cutting the ground from under you. The bottom's out. Things are bound to turn in a few days. Can't you holdout? Here's more trouble. "

He raised his eyes to the announcer's balcony. 

"The Eastern and Western Fire Insurance Company of New York announcesthat it cannot meet its obligations. "

A low sound something like "Haw!" broke forth. The announcer's gavelstruck for order. 

"The Erie Fire Insurance Company of Rochester announces that it cannotmeet its obligations. "

Again that "H-a-a-a-w!"

Once more the gavel. 

"The American Trust Company of New York has suspended payment. "

"H-a-a-a-w!"

The storm was on. 

"What do you think?" asked Targool. "You can't brave this storm. Can'tyou quit selling and hold out for a few days? Why not sell short?"

"They ought to close this thing up, " Cowperwood said, shortly. "It wouldbe a splendid way out. Then nothing could be done. "

He hurried to consult with those who, finding themselves in a similarpredicament with himself, might use their influence to bring it about. It was a sharp trick to play on those who, now finding the marketfavorable to their designs in its falling condition, were harvesting afortune. But what was that to him? Business was business. There was nouse selling at ruinous figures, and he gave his lieutenants orders tostop. Unless the bankers favored him heavily, or the stock exchangewas closed, or Stener could be induced to deposit an additional threehundred thousand with him at once, he was ruined. He hurried downthe street to various bankers and brokers suggesting that they dothis--close the exchange. At a few minutes before twelve o'clockhe drove rapidly to the station to meet Stener; but to his greatdisappointment the latter did not arrive. It looked as though he hadmissed his train. Cowperwood sensed something, some trick; and decidedto go to the city hall and also to Stener's house. Perhaps he hadreturned and was trying to avoid him. 

Not finding him at his office, he drove direct to his house. Here hewas not surprised to meet Stener just coming out, looking very pale anddistraught. At the sight of Cowperwood he actually blanched. 

"Why, hello, Frank, " he exclaimed, sheepishly, "where do you come from?"

"What's up, George?" asked Cowperwood. "I thought you were coming intoBroad Street. "

"So I was, " returned Stener, foolishly, "but I thought I would get offat West Philadelphia and change my clothes. I've a lot of thingsto 'tend to yet this afternoon. I was coming in to see you. " AfterCowperwood's urgent telegram this was silly, but the young banker let itpass. 

"Jump in, George, " he said. "I have something very important to talk toyou about. I told you in my telegram about the likelihood of a panic. It's on. There isn't a moment to lose. Stocks are 'way down, and most ofmy loans are being called. I want to know if you won't let me have threehundred and fifty thousand dollars for a few days at four or five percent. I'll pay it all back to you. I need it very badly. If I don't getit I'm likely to fail. You know what that means, George. It will tie upevery dollar I have. Those street-car holdings of yours will be tied upwith me. I won't be able to let you realize on them, and that will putthose loans of mine from the treasury in bad shape. You won't be ableto put the money back, and you know what that means. We're in this thingtogether. I want to see you through safely, but I can't do it withoutyour help. I had to go to Butler last night to see about a loan of his, and I'm doing my best to get money from other sources. But I can't seemy way through on this, I'm afraid, unless you're willing to helpme. " Cowperwood paused. He wanted to put the whole case clearly andsuccinctly to him before he had a chance to refuse--to make him realizeit as his own predicament. 

As a matter of fact, what Cowperwood had keenly suspected was literallytrue. Stener had been reached. The moment Butler and Simpson had lefthim the night before, Mollenhauer had sent for his very able secretary, Abner Sengstack, and despatched him to learn the truth about Stener'swhereabouts. Sengstack had then sent a long wire to Strobik, who waswith Stener, urging him to caution the latter against Cowperwood. Thestate of the treasury was known. Stener and Strobik were to be met bySengstack at Wilmington (this to forefend against the possibility ofCowperwood's reaching Stener first)--and the whole state of affairsmade perfectly plain. No more money was to be used under penalty ofprosecution. If Stener wanted to see any one he must see Mollenhauer. Sengstack, having received a telegram from Strobik informing him oftheir proposed arrival at noon the next day, had proceeded to Wilmingtonto meet them. The result was that Stener did not come direct into thebusiness heart of the city, but instead got off at West Philadelphia, proposing to go first to his house to change his clothes and then to seeMollenhauer before meeting Cowperwood. He was very badly frightened andwanted time to think. 

"I can't do it, Frank, " he pleaded, piteously. "I'm in pretty bad inthis matter. Mollenhauer's secretary met the train out at Wilmingtonjust now to warn me against this situation, and Strobik is against it. They know how much money I've got outstanding. You or somebody has toldthem. I can't go against Mollenhauer. I owe everything I've got to him, in a way. He got me this place. "

"Listen, George. Whatever you do at this time, don't let this politicalloyalty stuff cloud your judgment. You're in a very serious position andso am I. If you don't act for yourself with me now no one is going toact for you--now or later--no one. And later will be too late. I provedthat last night when I went to Butler to get help for the two of us. They all know about this business of our street-railway holdings andthey want to shake us out and that's the big and little of it--nothingmore and nothing less. It's a case of dog eat dog in this game andthis particular situation and it's up to us to save ourselves againsteverybody or go down together, and that's just what I'm here to tellyou. Mollenhauer doesn't care any more for you to-day than he doesfor that lamp-post. It isn't that money you've paid out to me that'sworrying him, but who's getting something for it and what. Well theyknow that you and I are getting street-railways, don't you see, and theydon't want us to have them. Once they get those out of our hands theywon't waste another day on you or me. Can't you see that? Once we'velost all we've invested, you're down and so am I--and no one is going toturn a hand for you or me politically or in any other way. I want you tounderstand that, George, because it's true. And before you say you won'tor you will do anything because Mollenhauer says so, you want to thinkover what I have to tell you. "

He was in front of Stener now, looking him directly in the eye and bythe kinetic force of his mental way attempting to make Stener take theone step that might save him--Cowperwood--however little in the long runit might do for Stener. And, more interesting still, he did not care. Stener, as he saw him now, was a pawn in whosoever's hands he happenedto be at the time, and despite Mr. Mollenhauer and Mr. Simpson and Mr. Butler he proposed to attempt to keep him in his own hands if possible. And so he stood there looking at him as might a snake at a birddetermined to galvanize him into selfish self-interest if possible. ButStener was so frightened that at the moment it looked as though therewas little to be done with him. His face was a grayish-blue: his eyelidsand eye rings puffy and his hands and lips moist. God, what a hole hewas in now!

"Say that's all right, Frank, " he exclaimed desperately. "I know whatyou say is true. But look at me and my position, if I do give you thismoney. What can't they do to me, and won't. If you only look at it frommy point of view. If only you hadn't gone to Butler before you saw me. "

"As though I could see you, George, when you were off duck shooting andwhen I was wiring everywhere I knew to try to get in touch with you. Howcould I? The situation had to be met. Besides, I thought Butler was morefriendly to me than he proved. But there's no use being angry with menow, George, for going to Butler as I did, and anyhow you can't affordto be now. We're in this thing together. It's a case of sink or swimfor just us two--not any one else--just us--don't you get that? Butlercouldn't or wouldn't do what I wanted him to do--get Mollenhauer andSimpson to support the market. Instead of that they are hammering it. They have a game of their own. It's to shake us out--can't you see that?Take everything that you and I have gathered. It is up to you and me, George, to save ourselves, and that's what I'm here for now. If youdon't let me have three hundred and fifty thousand dollars--threehundred thousand, anyhow--you and I are ruined. It will be worse foryou, George, than for me, for I'm not involved in this thing in anyway--not legally, anyhow. But that's not what I'm thinking of. What Iwant to do is to save us both--put us on easy street for the rest of ourlives, whatever they say or do, and it's in your power, with my help, todo that for both of us. Can't you see that? I want to save my businessso then I can help you to save your name and money. " He paused, hopingthis had convinced Stener, but the latter was still shaking. 

"But what can I do, Frank?" he pleaded, weakly. "I can't go againstMollenhauer. They can prosecute me if I do that. They can do it, anyhow. I can't do that. I'm not strong enough. If they didn't know, if youhadn't told them, it might be different, but this way--" He shook hishead sadly, his gray eyes filled with a pale distress. 

"George, " replied Cowperwood, who realized now that only the sternestarguments would have any effect here, "don't talk about what I did. WhatI did I had to do. You're in danger of losing your head and your nerveand making a serious mistake here, and I don't want to see you makeit. I have five hundred thousand of the city's money invested foryou--partly for me, and partly for you, but more for you than forme"--which, by the way, was not true--"and here you are hesitating inan hour like this as to whether you will protect your interest or not. I can't understand it. This is a crisis, George. Stocks are tumbling onevery side--everybody's stocks. You're not alone in this--neither am I. This is a panic, brought on by a fire, and you can't expect to come outof a panic alive unless you do something to protect yourself. You sayyou owe your place to Mollenhauer and that you're afraid of what he'lldo. If you look at your own situation and mine, you'll see that itdoesn't make much difference what he does, so long as I don't fail. IfI fail, where are you? Who's going to save you from prosecution? WillMollenhauer or any one else come forward and put five hundred thousanddollars in the treasury for you? He will not. If Mollenhauer and theothers have your interests at heart, why aren't they helping me on'change today? I'll tell you why. They want your street-railway holdingsand mine, and they don't care whether you go to jail afterward ornot. Now if you're wise you will listen to me. I've been loyal to you, haven't I? You've made money through me--lots of it. If you're wise, George, you'll go to your office and write me your check for threehundred thousand dollars, anyhow, before you do a single other thing. Don't see anybody and don't do anything till you've done that. You can'tbe hung any more for a sheep than you can for a lamb. No one can preventyou from giving me that check. You're the city treasurer. Once I havethat I can see my way out of this, and I'll pay it all back to you nextweek or the week after--this panic is sure to end in that time. Withthat put back in the treasury we can see them about the five hundredthousand a little later. In three months, or less, I can fix it so thatyou can put that back. As a matter of fact, I can do it in fifteen daysonce I am on my feet again. Time is all I want. You won't have lostyour holdings and nobody will cause you any trouble if you put themoney back. They don't care to risk a scandal any more than you do. Nowwhat'll you do, George? Mollenhauer can't stop you from doing this anymore than I can make you. Your life is in your own hands. What will youdo?"

Stener stood there ridiculously meditating when, as a matter of fact, his very financial blood was oozing away. Yet he was afraid to act. Hewas afraid of Mollenhauer, afraid of Cowperwood, afraid of life and ofhimself. The thought of panic, loss, was not so much a definite thingconnected with his own property, his money, as it was with his socialand political standing in the community. Few people have the sense offinancial individuality strongly developed. They do not know what itmeans to be a controller of wealth, to have that which releases thesources of social action--its medium of exchange. They want money, butnot for money's sake. They want it for what it will buy in the wayof simple comforts, whereas the financier wants it for what it willcontrol--for what it will represent in the way of dignity, force, power. Cowperwood wanted money in that way; Stener not. That was why he hadbeen so ready to let Cowperwood act for him; and now, when he shouldhave seen more clearly than ever the significance of what Cowperwood wasproposing, he was frightened and his reason obscured by such thingsas Mollenhauer's probable opposition and rage, Cowperwood's possiblefailure, his own inability to face a real crisis. Cowperwood's innatefinancial ability did not reassure Stener in this hour. The banker wastoo young, too new. Mollenhauer was older, richer. So was Simpson; sowas Butler. These men, with their wealth, represented the big forces, the big standards in his world. And besides, did not Cowperwood himselfconfess that he was in great danger--that he was in a corner. That wasthe worst possible confession to make to Stener--although under thecircumstances it was the only one that could be made--for he had nocourage to face danger. 

So it was that now, Stener stood by Cowperwood meditating--pale, flaccid; unable to see the main line of his interests quickly, unableto follow it definitely, surely, vigorously--while they drove to hisoffice. Cowperwood entered it with him for the sake of continuing hisplea. 

"Well, George, " he said earnestly, "I wish you'd tell me. Time's short. We haven't a moment to lose. Give me the money, won't you, and I'llget out of this quick. We haven't a moment, I tell you. Don't let thosepeople frighten you off. They're playing their own little game; you playyours. "

"I can't, Frank, " said Stener, finally, very weakly, his sense of hisown financial future, overcome for the time being by the thought ofMollenhauer's hard, controlling face. "I'll have to think. I can't do itright now. Strobik just left me before I saw you, and--"

"Good God, George, " exclaimed Cowperwood, scornfully, "don't talk aboutStrobik! What's he got to do with it? Think of yourself. Think of whereyou will be. It's your future--not Strobik's--that you have to thinkof. "

"I know, Frank, " persisted Stener, weakly; "but, really, I don't see howI can. Honestly I don't. You say yourself you're not sure whether youcan come out of things all right, and three hundred thousand more isthree hundred thousand more. I can't, Frank. I really can't. It wouldn'tbe right. Besides, I want to talk to Mollenhauer first, anyhow. "

"Good God, how you talk!" exploded Cowperwood, angrily, looking at himwith ill-concealed contempt. "Go ahead! See Mollenhauer! Let him tellyou how to cut your own throat for his benefit. It won't be right toloan me three hundred thousand dollars more, but it will be right to letthe five hundred thousand dollars you have loaned stand unprotectedand lose it. That's right, isn't it? That's just what you propose todo--lose it, and everything else besides. I want to tell you what itis, George--you've lost your mind. You've let a single message fromMollenhauer frighten you to death, and because of that you're going torisk your fortune, your reputation, your standing--everything. Do youreally realize what this means if I fail? You will be a convict, I tellyou, George. You will go to prison. This fellow Mollenhauer, who is soquick to tell you what not to do now, will be the last man to turn ahand for you once you're down. Why, look at me--I've helped you, haven'tI? Haven't I handled your affairs satisfactorily for you up to now? Whatin Heaven's name has got into you? What have you to be afraid of?"

Stener was just about to make another weak rejoinder when the doorfrom the outer office opened, and Albert Stires, Stener's chief clerk, entered. Stener was too flustered to really pay any attention to Stiresfor the moment; but Cowperwood took matters in his own hands. 

"What is it, Albert?" he asked, familiarly. 

"Mr. Sengstack from Mr. Mollenhauer to see Mr. Stener. "

At the sound of this dreadful name Stener wilted like a leaf. Cowperwoodsaw it. He realized that his last hope of getting the three hundredthousand dollars was now probably gone. Still he did not propose to giveup as yet. 

"Well, George, " he said, after Albert had gone out with instructionsthat Stener would see Sengstack in a moment. "I see how it is. Thisman has got you mesmerized. You can't act for yourself now--you're toofrightened. I'll let it rest for the present; I'll come back. But forHeaven's sake pull yourself together. Think what it means. I'm tellingyou exactly what's going to happen if you don't. You'll be independentlyrich if you do. You'll be a convict if you don't. "

And deciding he would make one more effort in the street before seeingButler again, he walked out briskly, jumped into his light springrunabout waiting outside--a handsome little yellow-glazed vehicle, with a yellow leather cushion seat, drawn by a young, high-stepping baymare--and sent her scudding from door to door, throwing down the linesindifferently and bounding up the steps of banks and into office doors. 

But all without avail. All were interested, considerate; but things werevery uncertain. The Girard National Bank refused an hour's grace, and hehad to send a large bundle of his most valuable securities to coverhis stock shrinkage there. Word came from his father at two that aspresident of the Third National he would have to call for his onehundred and fifty thousand dollars due there. The directors weresuspicious of his stocks. He at once wrote a check against fiftythousand dollars of his deposits in that bank, took twenty-five thousandof his available office funds, called a loan of fifty thousand againstTighe & Co. , and sold sixty thousand Green & Coates, a line he had beententatively dabbling in, for one-third their value--and, combining thegeneral results, sent them all to the Third National. His father wasimmensely relieved from one point of view, but sadly depressed fromanother. He hurried out at the noon-hour to see what his own holdingswould bring. He was compromising himself in a way by doing it, but hisparental heart, as well as is own financial interests, were involved. By mortgaging his house and securing loans on his furniture, carriages, lots, and stocks, he managed to raise one hundred thousand in cash, anddeposited it in his own bank to Frank's credit; but it was a very lightanchor to windward in this swirling storm, at that. Frank had beencounting on getting all of his loans extended three or four days atleast. Reviewing his situation at two o'clock of this Monday afternoon, he said to himself thoughtfully but grimly: "Well, Stener has to loan methree hundred thousand--that's all there is to it. And I'll have to seeButler now, or he'll be calling his loan before three. "

He hurried out, and was off to Butler's house, driving like mad. 

Chapter XXVI

Things had changed greatly since last Cowperwood had talked with Butler. Although most friendly at the time the proposition was made that heshould combine with Mollenhauer and Simpson to sustain the market, alas, now on this Monday morning at nine o'clock, an additional complicationhad been added to the already tangled situation which had changedButler's attitude completely. As he was leaving his home to enter hisrunabout, at nine o'clock in the morning of this same day in whichCowperwood was seeking Stener's aid, the postman, coming up, had handedButler four letters, all of which he paused for a moment to glance at. One was from a sub-contractor by the name of O'Higgins, the second wasfrom Father Michel, his confessor, of St. Timothy's, thanking him fora contribution to the parish poor fund; a third was from Drexel & Co. Relating to a deposit, and the fourth was an anonymous communication, oncheap stationery from some one who was apparently not very literate--awoman most likely--written in a scrawling hand, which read:

 DEAR SIR--This is to warn you that your daughter Aileen is running around with a man that she shouldn't, Frank A. Cowperwood, the banker. If you don't believe it, watch the house at 931 North Tenth Street. Then you can see for yourself. 

There was neither signature nor mark of any kind to indicate from whenceit might have come. Butler got the impression strongly that it mighthave been written by some one living in the vicinity of the numberindicated. His intuitions were keen at times. As a matter of fact, itwas written by a girl, a member of St. Timothy's Church, who did livein the vicinity of the house indicated, and who knew Aileen by sightand was jealous of her airs and her position. She was a thin, anemic, dissatisfied creature who had the type of brain which can reconcilethe gratification of personal spite with a comforting sense of havingfulfilled a moral duty. Her home was some five doors north of theunregistered Cowperwood domicile on the opposite side of the street, andby degrees, in the course of time, she made out, or imagined that shehad, the significance of this institution, piecing fact to fancy andfusing all with that keen intuition which is so closely related to fact. The result was eventually this letter which now spread clear and grimbefore Butler's eyes. 

The Irish are a philosophic as well as a practical race. Their firstand strongest impulse is to make the best of a bad situation--to put abetter face on evil than it normally wears. On first reading theselines the intelligence they conveyed sent a peculiar chill over Butler'ssturdy frame. His jaw instinctively closed, and his gray eyes narrowed. Could this be true? If it were not, would the author of the letter sayso practically, "If you don't believe it, watch the house at 931North Tenth Street"? Wasn't that in itself proof positive--the hard, matter-of-fact realism of it? And this was the man who had come to himthe night before seeking aid--whom he had done so much to assist. Thereforced itself into his naturally slow-moving but rather accurate minda sense of the distinction and charm of his daughter--a considerablysharper picture than he had ever had before, and at the same time akeener understanding of the personality of Frank Algernon Cowperwood. How was it he had failed to detect the real subtlety of this man? Howwas it he had never seen any sign of it, if there had been anythingbetween Cowperwood and Aileen?

Parents are frequently inclined, because of a time-flattered sense ofsecurity, to take their children for granted. Nothing ever has happened, so nothing ever will happen. They see their children every day, andthrough the eyes of affection; and despite their natural charm andtheir own strong parental love, the children are apt to become not onlycommonplaces, but ineffably secure against evil. Mary is naturallya good girl--a little wild, but what harm can befall her? John is astraight-forward, steady-going boy--how could he get into trouble? Theastonishment of most parents at the sudden accidental revelation of evilin connection with any of their children is almost invariably pathetic. "My John! My Mary! Impossible!" But it is possible. Very possible. Decidedly likely. Some, through lack of experience or understanding, or both, grow hard and bitter on the instant. They feel themselvesastonishingly abased in the face of notable tenderness and sacrifice. Others collapse before the grave manifestation of the insecurity anduncertainty of life--the mystic chemistry of our being. Still others, taught roughly by life, or endowed with understanding or intuition, or both, see in this the latest manifestation of that incomprehensiblechemistry which we call life and personality, and, knowing that it isquite vain to hope to gainsay it, save by greater subtlety, put the bestface they can upon the matter and call a truce until they can think. Weall know that life is unsolvable--we who think. The remainder imagine avain thing, and are full of sound and fury signifying nothing. 

So Edward Butler, being a man of much wit and hard, grim experience, stood there on his doorstep holding in his big, rough hand his thinslip of cheap paper which contained such a terrific indictment of hisdaughter. There came to him now a picture of her as she was when she wasa very little girl--she was his first baby girl--and how keenly he hadfelt about her all these years. She had been a beautiful child--herred-gold hair had been pillowed on his breast many a time, and his hard, rough fingers had stroked her soft cheeks, lo, these thousands of times. Aileen, his lovely, dashing daughter of twenty-three! He was lost indark, strange, unhappy speculations, without any present ability tothink or say or do the right thing. He did not know what the right thingwas, he finally confessed to himself. Aileen! Aileen! His Aileen! If hermother knew this it would break her heart. She mustn't! She mustn't! Andyet mustn't she?

The heart of a father! The world wanders into many strange by-paths ofaffection. The love of a mother for her children is dominant, leonine, selfish, and unselfish. It is concentric. The love of a husband for hiswife, or of a lover for his sweetheart, is a sweet bond of agreement andexchange trade in a lovely contest. The love of a father for his sonor daughter, where it is love at all, is a broad, generous, sad, contemplative giving without thought of return, a hail and farewell to atroubled traveler whom he would do much to guard, a balanced judgment ofweakness and strength, with pity for failure and pride in achievement. It is a lovely, generous, philosophic blossom which rarely asks toomuch, and seeks only to give wisely and plentifully. "That my boy maysucceed! That my daughter may be happy!" Who has not heard and dweltupon these twin fervors of fatherly wisdom and tenderness?

As Butler drove downtown his huge, slow-moving, in some respects chaoticmind turned over as rapidly as he could all of the possibilities inconnection with this unexpected, sad, and disturbing revelation. Why hadCowperwood not been satisfied with his wife? Why should he enterinto his (Butler's) home, of all places, to establish a clandestinerelationship of this character? Was Aileen in any way to blame? She wasnot without mental resources of her own. She must have known what shewas doing. She was a good Catholic, or, at least, had been raisedso. All these years she had been going regularly to confession andcommunion. True, of late Butler had noticed that she did not care somuch about going to church, would sometimes make excuses and stay athome on Sundays; but she had gone, as a rule. And now, now--his thoughtswould come to the end of a blind alley, and then he would start back, asit were, mentally, to the center of things, and begin all over again. 

He went up the stairs to his own office slowly. He went in and sat down, and thought and thought. Ten o'clock came, and eleven. His son botheredhim with an occasional matter of interest, but, finding him moody, finally abandoned him to his own speculations. It was twelve, and thenone, and he was still sitting there thinking, when the presence ofCowperwood was announced. 

Cowperwood, on finding Butler not at home, and not encountering Aileen, had hurried up to the office of the Edward Butler Contracting Company, which was also the center of some of Butler's street-railway interests. The floor space controlled by the company was divided into theusual official compartments, with sections for the bookkeepers, theroad-managers, the treasurer, and so on. Owen Butler, and his fatherhad small but attractively furnished offices in the rear, where theytransacted all the important business of the company. 

During this drive, curiously, by reason of one of those strangepsychologic intuitions which so often precede a human difficulty of onesort or another, he had been thinking of Aileen. He was thinking of thepeculiarity of his relationship with her, and of the fact that now hewas running to her father for assistance. As he mounted the stairs hehad a peculiar sense of the untoward; but he could not, in his viewof life, give it countenance. One glance at Butler showed him thatsomething had gone amiss. He was not so friendly; his glance was dark, and there was a certain sternness to his countenance which had neverpreviously been manifested there in Cowperwood's memory. He perceived atonce that here was something different from a mere intention to refusehim aid and call his loan. What was it? Aileen? It must be that. Somebody had suggested something. They had been seen together. Well, even so, nothing could be proved. Butler would obtain no sign from him. But his loan--that was to be called, surely. And as for an additionalloan, he could see now, before a word had been said, that that thoughtwas useless. 

"I came to see you about that loan of yours, Mr. Butler, " he observed, briskly, with an old-time, jaunty air. You could not have told from hismanner or his face that he had observed anything out of the ordinary. 

Butler, who was alone in the room--Owen having gone into an adjoiningroom--merely stared at him from under his shaggy brows. 

"I'll have to have that money, " he said, brusquely, darkly. 

An old-time Irish rage suddenly welled up in his bosom as hecontemplated this jaunty, sophisticated undoer of his daughter's virtue. He fairly glared at him as he thought of him and her. 

"I judged from the way things were going this morning that you mightwant it, " Cowperwood replied, quietly, without sign of tremor. "Thebottom's out, I see. "

"The bottom's out, and it'll not be put back soon, I'm thinkin'. I'llhave to have what's belongin' to me to-day. I haven't any time tospare. "

"Very well, " replied Cowperwood, who saw clearly how treacherous thesituation was. The old man was in a dour mood. His presence was anirritation to him, for some reason--a deadly provocation. Cowperwoodfelt clearly that it must be Aileen, that he must know or suspectsomething. 

He must pretend business hurry and end this. "I'm sorry. I thoughtI might get an extension; but that's all right. I can get the money, though. I'll send it right over. "

He turned and walked quickly to the door. 

Butler got up. He had thought to manage this differently. 

He had thought to denounce or even assault this man. He was about tomake some insinuating remark which would compel an answer, some directcharge; but Cowperwood was out and away as jaunty as ever. 

The old man was flustered, enraged, disappointed. He opened the smalloffice door which led into the adjoining room, and called, "Owen!"

"Yes, father. "

"Send over to Cowperwood's office and get that money. "

"You decided to call it, eh?"

"I have. "

Owen was puzzled by the old man's angry mood. He wondered what it allmeant, but thought he and Cowperwood might have had a few words. He wentout to his desk to write a note and call a clerk. Butler went to thewindow and stared out. He was angry, bitter, brutal in his vein. 

"The dirty dog!" he suddenly exclaimed to himself, in a low voice. "I'lltake every dollar he's got before I'm through with him. I'll send him tojail, I will. I'll break him, I will. Wait!"

He clinched his big fists and his teeth. 

"I'll fix him. I'll show him. The dog! The damned scoundrel!"

Never in his life before had he been so bitter, so cruel, so relentlessin his mood. 

He walked his office floor thinking what he could do. QuestionAileen--that was what he would do. If her face, or her lips, told himthat his suspicion was true, he would deal with Cowperwood later. Thiscity treasurer business, now. It was not a crime in so far as Cowperwoodwas concerned; but it might be made to be. 

So now, telling the clerk to say to Owen that he had gone down thestreet for a few moments, he boarded a street-car and rode out to hishome, where he found his elder daughter just getting ready to go out. She wore a purple-velvet street dress edged with narrow, flat giltbraid, and a striking gold-and-purple turban. She had on dainty newboots of bronze kid and long gloves of lavender suede. In her ears wasone of her latest affectations, a pair of long jet earrings. The oldIrishman realized on this occasion, when he saw her, perhaps moreclearly than he ever had in his life, that he had grown a bird of rareplumage. 

"Where are you going, daughter?" he asked, with a rather unsuccessfulattempt to conceal his fear, distress, and smoldering anger. 

"To the library, " she said easily, and yet with a sudden realizationthat all was not right with her father. His face was too heavy and gray. He looked tired and gloomy. 

"Come up to my office a minute, " he said. "I want to see you before yougo. "

Aileen heard this with a strange feeling of curiosity and wonder. It wasnot customary for her father to want to see her in his office just whenshe was going out; and his manner indicated, in this instance, thatthe exceptional procedure portended a strange revelation of some kind. Aileen, like every other person who offends against a rigid conventionof the time, was conscious of and sensitive to the possible disastrousresults which would follow exposure. She had often thought about whather family would think if they knew what she was doing; she had neverbeen able to satisfy herself in her mind as to what they would do. Herfather was a very vigorous man. But she had never known him to be cruelor cold in his attitude toward her or any other member of the family, and especially not toward her. Always he seemed too fond of her to becompletely alienated by anything that might happen; yet she could not besure. 

Butler led the way, planting his big feet solemnly on the steps as hewent up. Aileen followed with a single glance at herself in the tallpier-mirror which stood in the hall, realizing at once how charming shelooked and how uncertain she was feeling about what was to follow. What could her father want? It made the color leave her cheeks for themoment, as she thought what he might want. 

Butler strolled into his stuffy room and sat down in the big leatherchair, disproportioned to everything else in the chamber, but which, nevertheless, accompanied his desk. Before him, against the light, wasthe visitor's chair, in which he liked to have those sit whose faces hewas anxious to study. When Aileen entered he motioned her to it, whichwas also ominous to her, and said, "Sit down there. "

She took the seat, not knowing what to make of his procedure. On theinstant her promise to Cowperwood to deny everything, whatever happened, came back to her. If her father was about to attack her on that score, he would get no satisfaction, she thought. She owed it to Frank. Herpretty face strengthened and hardened on the instant. Her small, whiteteeth set themselves in two even rows; and her father saw quite plainlythat she was consciously bracing herself for an attack of some kind. Hefeared by this that she was guilty, and he was all the more distressed, ashamed, outraged, made wholly unhappy. He fumbled in the left-handpocket of his coat and drew forth from among the various papers thefatal communication so cheap in its physical texture. His big fingersfumbled almost tremulously as he fished the letter-sheet out of thesmall envelope and unfolded it without saying a word. Aileen watchedhis face and his hands, wondering what it could be that he had here. Hehanded the paper over, small in his big fist, and said, "Read that. "

Aileen took it, and for a second was relieved to be able to lower hereyes to the paper. Her relief vanished in a second, when she realizedhow in a moment she would have to raise them again and look him in theface. 

 DEAR SIR--This is to warn you that your daughter Aileen is running around with a man that she shouldn't, Frank A. Cowperwood, the banker. If you don't believe it, watch the house at 931 North Tenth Street. Then you can see for yourself. 

In spite of herself the color fled from her cheeks instantly, only tocome back in a hot, defiant wave. 

"Why, what a lie!" she said, lifting her eyes to her father's. "To thinkthat any one should write such a thing of me! How dare they! I thinkit's a shame!"

Old Butler looked at her narrowly, solemnly. He was not deceived to anyextent by her bravado. If she were really innocent, he knew she wouldhave jumped to her feet in her defiant way. Protest would have beenwritten all over her. As it was, she only stared haughtily. He readthrough her eager defiance to the guilty truth. 

"How do ye know, daughter, that I haven't had the house watched?" hesaid, quizzically. "How do ye know that ye haven't been seen goin' inthere?"

Only Aileen's solemn promise to her lover could have saved her fromthis subtle thrust. As it was, she paled nervously; but she saw FrankCowperwood, solemn and distinguished, asking her what she would say ifshe were caught. 

"It's a lie!" she said, catching her breath. "I wasn't at any house atthat number, and no one saw me going in there. How can you ask me that, father?"

In spite of his mixed feelings of uncertainty and yet unshakablebelief that his daughter was guilty, he could not help admiringher courage--she was so defiant, as she sat there, so set in herdetermination to lie and thus defend herself. Her beauty helped her inhis mood, raised her in his esteem. After all, what could you do witha woman of this kind? She was not a ten-year-old girl any more, as in away he sometimes continued to fancy her. 

"Ye oughtn't to say that if it isn't true, Aileen, " he said. "Yeoughtn't to lie. It's against your faith. Why would anybody write aletter like that if it wasn't so?"

"But it's not so, " insisted Aileen, pretending anger and outragedfeeling, "and I don't think you have any right to sit there and saythat to me. I haven't been there, and I'm not running around with Mr. Cowperwood. Why, I hardly know the man except in a social way. "

Butler shook his head solemnly. 

"It's a great blow to me, daughter. It's a great blow to me, " he said. "I'm willing to take your word if ye say so; but I can't help thinkin'what a sad thing it would be if ye were lyin' to me. I haven't had thehouse watched. I only got this this mornin'. And what's written here maynot be so. I hope it isn't. But we'll not say any more about that now. If there is anythin' in it, and ye haven't gone too far yet to saveyourself, I want ye to think of your mother and your sister and yourbrothers, and be a good girl. Think of the church ye was raised in, andthe name we've got to stand up for in the world. Why, if ye were doin'anything wrong, and the people of Philadelphy got a hold of it, thecity, big as it is, wouldn't be big enough to hold us. Your brothershave got a reputation to make, their work to do here. You and yoursister want to get married sometime. How could ye expect to look theworld in the face and do anythin' at all if ye are doin' what thisletter says ye are, and it was told about ye?"

The old man's voice was thick with a strange, sad, alien emotion. He didnot want to believe that his daughter was guilty, even though he knewshe was. He did not want to face what he considered in his vigorous, religious way to be his duty, that of reproaching her sternly. Therewere some fathers who would have turned her out, he fancied. There wereothers who might possibly kill Cowperwood after a subtle investigation. That course was not for him. If vengeance he was to have, it must bethrough politics and finance--he must drive him out. But as for doinganything desperate in connection with Aileen, he could not think of it. 

"Oh, father, " returned Aileen, with considerable histrionic ability inher assumption of pettishness, "how can you talk like this when you knowI'm not guilty? When I tell you so?"

The old Irishman saw through her make-believe with profound sadness--thefeeling that one of his dearest hopes had been shattered. He hadexpected so much of her socially and matrimonially. Why, any one of adozen remarkable young men might have married her, and she would havehad lovely children to comfort him in his old age. 

"Well, we'll not talk any more about it now, daughter, " he said, wearily. "Ye've been so much to me during all these years that I canscarcely belave anythin' wrong of ye. I don't want to, God knows. Ye'rea grown woman, though, now; and if ye are doin' anythin' wrong I don'tsuppose I could do so much to stop ye. I might turn ye out, of course, as many a father would; but I wouldn't like to do anythin' like that. But if ye are doin' anythin' wrong"--and he put up his hand to stop aproposed protest on the part of Aileen--"remember, I'm certain to findit out in the long run, and Philadelphy won't be big enough to holdme and the man that's done this thing to me. I'll get him, " he said, getting up dramatically. "I'll get him, and when I do--" He turneda livid face to the wall, and Aileen saw clearly that Cowperwood, inaddition to any other troubles which might beset him, had her fatherto deal with. Was this why Frank had looked so sternly at her the nightbefore?

"Why, your mother would die of a broken heart if she thought therewas anybody could say the least word against ye, " pursued Butler, in ashaken voice. "This man has a family--a wife and children, Ye oughtn'tto want to do anythin' to hurt them. They'll have trouble enough, if I'mnot mistaken--facin' what's comin' to them in the future, " and Butler'sjaw hardened just a little. "Ye're a beautiful girl. Ye're young. Yehave money. There's dozens of young men'd be proud to make ye theirwife. Whatever ye may be thinkin' or doin', don't throw away your life. Don't destroy your immortal soul. Don't break my heart entirely. "

Aileen, not ungenerous--fool of mingled affection and passion--could nowhave cried. She pitied her father from her heart; but her allegiancewas to Cowperwood, her loyalty unshaken. She wanted to say something, to protest much more; but she knew that it was useless. Her father knewthat she was lying. 

"Well, there's no use of my saying anything more, father, " she said, getting up. The light of day was fading in the windows. The downstairsdoor closed with a light slam, indicating that one of the boys had comein. Her proposed trip to the library was now without interest to her. "You won't believe me, anyhow. I tell you, though, that I'm innocentjust the same. "

Butler lifted his big, brown hand to command silence. She saw that thisshameful relationship, as far as her father was concerned, had beenmade quite clear, and that this trying conference was now at an end. Sheturned and walked shamefacedly out. He waited until he heard her stepsfading into faint nothings down the hall toward her room. Then he arose. Once more he clinched his big fists. 

"The scoundrel!" he said. "The scoundrel! I'll drive him out ofPhiladelphy, if it takes the last dollar I have in the world. "

Chapter XXVII

For the first time in his life Cowperwood felt conscious of having beenin the presence of that interesting social phenomenon--the outragedsentiment of a parent. While he had no absolute knowledge as to whyButler had been so enraged, he felt that Aileen was the contributingcause. He himself was a father. His boy, Frank, Jr. , was to him not soremarkable. But little Lillian, with her dainty little slip of a bodyand bright-aureoled head, had always appealed to him. She was going tobe a charming woman one day, he thought, and he was going to do muchto establish her safely. He used to tell her that she had "eyes likebuttons, " "feet like a pussy-cat, " and hands that were "just five cents'worth, " they were so little. The child admired her father and wouldoften stand by his chair in the library or the sitting-room, or hisdesk in his private office, or by his seat at the table, asking himquestions. 

This attitude toward his own daughter made him see clearly how Butlermight feel toward Aileen. He wondered how he would feel if it were hisown little Lillian, and still he did not believe he would make much fussover the matter, either with himself or with her, if she were as old asAileen. Children and their lives were more or less above the willingof parents, anyhow, and it would be a difficult thing for any parentto control any child, unless the child were naturally docile-minded andwilling to be controlled. 

It also made him smile, in a grim way, to see how fate was rainingdifficulties on him. The Chicago fire, Stener's early absence, Butler, Mollenhauer, and Simpson's indifference to Stener's fate and his. Andnow this probable revelation in connection with Aileen. He could notbe sure as yet, but his intuitive instincts told him that it must besomething like this. 

Now he was distressed as to what Aileen would do, say if suddenly shewere confronted by her father. If he could only get to her! But if hewas to meet Butler's call for his loan, and the others which would comeyet to-day or on the morrow, there was not a moment to lose. If he didnot pay he must assign at once. Butler's rage, Aileen, his own danger, were brushed aside for the moment. His mind concentrated wholly on howto save himself financially. 

He hurried to visit George Waterman; David Wiggin, his wife's brother, who was now fairly well to do; Joseph Zimmerman, the wealthy dry-goodsdealer who had dealt with him in the past; Judge Kitchen, a privatemanipulator of considerable wealth; Frederick Van Nostrand, the Statetreasurer, who was interested in local street-railway stocks, andothers. Of all those to whom he appealed one was actually not ina position to do anything for him; another was afraid; a thirdwas calculating eagerly to drive a hard bargain; a fourth was toodeliberate, anxious to have much time. All scented the true value of hissituation, all wanted time to consider, and he had no time to consider. Judge Kitchen did agree to lend him thirty thousand dollars--a paltrysum. Joseph Zimmerman would only risk twenty-five thousand dollars. Hecould see where, all told, he might raise seventy-five thousand dollarsby hypothecating double the amount in shares; but this was ridiculouslyinsufficient. He had figured again, to a dollar, and he must have atleast two hundred and fifty thousand dollars above all his presentholdings, or he must close his doors. To-morrow at two o'clock he wouldknow. If he didn't he would be written down as "failed" on a score ofledgers in Philadelphia. 

What a pretty pass for one to come to whose hopes had so recently run sohigh! There was a loan of one hundred thousand dollars from the GirardNational Bank which he was particularly anxious to clear off. This bankwas the most important in the city, and if he retained its good willby meeting this loan promptly he might hope for favors in the futurewhatever happened. Yet, at the moment, he did not see how he could doit. He decided, however, after some reflection, that he would deliverthe stocks which Judge Kitchen, Zimmerman, and others had agreed totake and get their checks or cash yet this night. Then he would persuadeStener to let him have a check for the sixty thousand dollars' worth ofcity loan he had purchased this morning on 'change. Out of it he couldtake twenty-five thousand dollars to make up the balance due the bank, and still have thirty-five thousand for himself. 

The one unfortunate thing about such an arrangement was that by doingit he was building up a rather complicated situation in regard to thesesame certificates. Since their purchase in the morning, he had notdeposited them in the sinking-fund, where they belonged (they had beendelivered to his office by half past one in the afternoon), but, on thecontrary, had immediately hypothecated them to cover another loan. Itwas a risky thing to have done, considering that he was in danger offailing and that he was not absolutely sure of being able to take themup in time. 

But, he reasoned, he had a working agreement with the city treasurer(illegal of course), which would make such a transaction ratherplausible, and almost all right, even if he failed, and that was thatnone of his accounts were supposed necessarily to be put straight untilthe end of the month. If he failed, and the certificates were not in thesinking-fund, he could say, as was the truth, that he was in the habitof taking his time, and had forgotten. This collecting of a check, therefore, for these as yet undeposited certificates would betechnically, if not legally and morally, plausible. The city would beout only an additional sixty thousand dollars--making five hundred andsixty thousand dollars all told, which in view of its probable loss offive hundred thousand did not make so much difference. But his cautionclashed with his need on this occasion, and he decided that he would notcall for the check unless Stener finally refused to aid him with threehundred thousand more, in which case he would claim it as his right. Inall likelihood Stener would not think to ask whether the certificateswere in the sinking-fund or not. If he did, he would have to lie--thatwas all. 

He drove rapidly back to his office, and, finding Butler's note, ashe expected, wrote a check on his father's bank for the one hundredthousand dollars which had been placed to his credit by his lovingparent, and sent it around to Butler's office. There was another note, from Albert Stires, Stener's secretary, advising him not to buy or sellany more city loan--that until further notice such transactions wouldnot be honored. Cowperwood immediately sensed the source of thiswarning. Stener had been in conference with Butler or Mollenhauer, andhad been warned and frightened. Nevertheless, he got in his buggy againand drove directly to the city treasurer's office. 

Since Cowperwood's visit Stener had talked still more with Sengstack, Strobik, and others, all sent to see that a proper fear of thingsfinancial had been put in his heart. The result was decidedly one whichspelled opposition to Cowperwood. 

Strobik was considerably disturbed himself. He and Wycroft and Harmonhad also been using money out of the treasury--much smaller sums, ofcourse, for they had not Cowperwood's financial imagination--and weredisturbed as to how they would return what they owed before the stormbroke. If Cowperwood failed, and Stener was short in his accounts, the whole budget might be investigated, and then their loans would bebrought to light. The thing to do was to return what they owed, andthen, at least, no charge of malfeasance would lie against them. 

"Go to Mollenhauer, " Strobik had advised Stener, shortly afterCowperwood had left the latter's office, "and tell him the whole story. He put you here. He was strong for your nomination. Tell him just whereyou stand and ask him what to do. He'll probably be able to tell you. Offer him your holdings to help you out. You have to. You can't helpyourself. Don't loan Cowperwood another damned dollar, whatever youdo. He's got you in so deep now you can hardly hope to get out. AskMollenhauer if he won't help you to get Cowperwood to put that moneyback. He may be able to influence him. "

There was more in this conversation to the same effect, and then Stenerhurried as fast as his legs could carry him to Mollenhauer's office. Hewas so frightened that he could scarcely breathe, and he was quite readyto throw himself on his knees before the big German-American financierand leader. Oh, if Mr. Mollenhauer would only help him! If he could justget out of this without going to jail!

"Oh, Lord! Oh, Lord! Oh, Lord!" he repeated, over and over to himself, as he walked. "What shall I do?"

The attitude of Henry A. Mollenhauer, grim, political boss that hewas--trained in a hard school--was precisely the attitude of every suchman in all such trying circumstances. 

He was wondering, in view of what Butler had told him, just how much hecould advantage himself in this situation. If he could, he wanted to getcontrol of whatever street-railway stock Stener now had, without in anyway compromising himself. Stener's shares could easily be transferred on'change through Mollenhauer's brokers to a dummy, who would eventuallytransfer them to himself (Mollenhauer). Stener must be squeezedthoroughly, though, this afternoon, and as for his five hundred thousanddollars' indebtedness to the treasury, Mollenhauer did not see whatcould be done about that. If Cowperwood could not pay it, the city wouldhave to lose it; but the scandal must be hushed up until after election. Stener, unless the various party leaders had more generosity thanMollenhauer imagined, would have to suffer exposure, arrest, trial, confiscation of his property, and possibly sentence to the penitentiary, though this might easily be commuted by the governor, once publicexcitement died down. He did not trouble to think whether Cowperwood wascriminally involved or not. A hundred to one he was not. Trust a shrewdman like that to take care of himself. But if there was any way toshoulder the blame on to Cowperwood, and so clear the treasurer and theskirts of the party, he would not object to that. He wanted to hear thefull story of Stener's relations with the broker first. Meanwhile, thething to do was to seize what Stener had to yield. 

The troubled city treasurer, on being shown in Mr. Mollenhauer'spresence, at once sank feebly in a chair and collapsed. He was entirelydone for mentally. His nerve was gone, his courage exhausted like abreath. 

"Well, Mr. Stener?" queried Mr. Mollenhauer, impressively, pretendingnot to know what brought him. 

"I came about this matter of my loans to Mr. Cowperwood. "

"Well, what about them?"

"Well, he owes me, or the city treasury rather, five hundred thousanddollars, and I understand that he is going to fail and that he can't payit back. "

"Who told you that?"

"Mr. Sengstack, and since then Mr. Cowperwood has been to see me. Hetells me he must have more money or he will fail and he wants to borrowthree hundred thousand dollars more. He says he must have it. "

"So!" said Mr. Mollenhauer, impressively, and with an air ofastonishment which he did not feel. "You would not think of doing that, of course. You're too badly involved as it is. If he wants to know why, refer him to me. Don't advance him another dollar. If you do, and thiscase comes to trial, no court would have any mercy on you. It's goingto be difficult enough to do anything for you as it is. However, if youdon't advance him any more--we will see. It may be possible, I can'tsay, but at any rate, no more money must leave the treasury to bolsterup this bad business. It's much too difficult as it now is. " He staredat Stener warningly. And he, shaken and sick, yet because of the faintsuggestion of mercy involved somewhere in Mollenhauer's remarks, nowslipped from his chair to his knees and folded his hands in the upliftedattitude of a devotee before a sacred image. 

"Oh, Mr. Mollenhauer, " he choked, beginning to cry, "I didn't mean to doanything wrong. Strobik and Wycroft told me it was all right. You sentme to Cowperwood in the first place. I only did what I thought theothers had been doing. Mr. Bode did it, just like I have been doing. He dealt with Tighe and Company. I have a wife and four children, Mr. Mollenhauer. My youngest boy is only seven years old. Think of them, Mr. Mollenhauer! Think of what my arrest will mean to them! I don't want togo to jail. I didn't think I was doing anything very wrong--honestly Ididn't. I'll give up all I've got. You can have all my stocks and housesand lots--anything--if you'll only get me out of this. You won't let 'emsend me to jail, will you?"

His fat, white lips were trembling--wabbling nervously--and big hottears were coursing down his previously pale but now flushed cheeks. He presented one of those almost unbelievable pictures which are yet sointensely human and so true. If only the great financial and politicalgiants would for once accurately reveal the details of their lives!

Mollenhauer looked at him calmly, meditatively. How often had he seenweaklings no more dishonest than himself, but without his courage andsubtlety, pleading to him in this fashion, not on their knees exactly, but intellectually so! Life to him, as to every other man of largepractical knowledge and insight, was an inexplicable tangle. What wereyou going to do about the so-called morals and precepts of the world?This man Stener fancied that he was dishonest, and that he, Mollenhauer, was honest. He was here, self-convicted of sin, pleading to him, Mollenhauer, as he would to a righteous, unstained saint. As a matterof fact, Mollenhauer knew that he was simply shrewder, more far-seeing, more calculating, not less dishonest. Stener was lacking in force andbrains--not morals. This lack was his principal crime. There were peoplewho believed in some esoteric standard of right--some ideal of conductabsolutely and very far removed from practical life; but he had neverseen them practice it save to their own financial (not moral--he wouldnot say that) destruction. They were never significant, practical menwho clung to these fatuous ideals. They were always poor, nondescript, negligible dreamers. He could not have made Stener understand all thisif he had wanted to, and he certainly did not want to. It was too badabout Mrs. Stener and the little Steners. No doubt she had worked hard, as had Stener, to get up in the world and be something--just a littlemore than miserably poor; and now this unfortunate complication had toarise to undo them--this Chicago fire. What a curious thing that was!If any one thing more than another made him doubt the existence of akindly, overruling Providence, it was the unheralded storms out of clearskies--financial, social, anything you choose--that so often broughtruin and disaster to so many. 

"Get Up, Stener, " he said, calmly, after a few moments. "You mustn'tgive way to your feelings like this. You must not cry. These troublesare never unraveled by tears. You must do a little thinking foryourself. Perhaps your situation isn't so bad. "

As he was saying this Stener was putting himself back in his chair, getting out his handkerchief, and sobbing hopelessly in it. 

"I'll do what I can, Stener. I won't promise anything. I can't tell youwhat the result will be. There are many peculiar political forces inthis city. I may not be able to save you, but I am perfectly willing totry. You must put yourself absolutely under my direction. You must notsay or do anything without first consulting with me. I will send mysecretary to you from time to time. He will tell you what to do. Youmust not come to me unless I send for you. Do you understand thatthoroughly?"

"Yes, Mr. Mollenhauer. "

"Well, now, dry your eyes. I don't want you to go out of this officecrying. Go back to your office, and I will send Sengstack to see you. He will tell you what to do. Follow him exactly. And whenever I send foryou come at once. "

He got up, large, self-confident, reserved. Stener, buoyed up by thesubtle reassurance of his remarks, recovered to a degree his equanimity. Mr. Mollenhauer, the great, powerful Mr. Mollenhauer was going to helphim out of his scrape. He might not have to go to jail after all. He left after a few moments, his face a little red from weeping, butotherwise free of telltale marks, and returned to his office. 

Three-quarters of an hour later, Sengstack called on him for the secondtime that day--Abner Sengstack, small, dark-faced, club-footed, a greatsole of leather three inches thick under his short, withered right leg, his slightly Slavic, highly intelligent countenance burning with a pairof keen, piercing, inscrutable black eyes. Sengstack was a fit secretaryfor Mollenhauer. You could see at one glance that he would make Stenerdo exactly what Mollenhauer suggested. His business was to induce Stenerto part with his street-railway holdings at once through Tighe & Co. , Butler's brokers, to the political sub-agent who would eventuallytransfer them to Mollenhauer. What little Stener received for themmight well go into the treasury. Tighe & Co. Would manage the "'change"subtleties of this without giving any one else a chance to bid, while atthe same time making it appear an open-market transaction. At the sametime Sengstack went carefully into the state of the treasurer's officefor his master's benefit--finding out what it was that Strobik, Wycroft, and Harmon had been doing with their loans. Via another source they wereordered to disgorge at once or face prosecution. They were a part ofMollenhauer's political machine. Then, having cautioned Stener not toset over the remainder of his property to any one, and not to listento any one, most of all to the Machiavellian counsel of Cowperwood, Sengstack left. 

Needless to say, Mollenhauer was greatly gratified by this turn ofaffairs. Cowperwood was now most likely in a position where he wouldhave to come and see him, or if not, a good share of the properties hecontrolled were already in Mollenhauer's possession. If by some hook orcrook he could secure the remainder, Simpson and Butler might well talkto him about this street-railway business. His holdings were now aslarge as any, if not quite the largest. 

Chapter XXVIII

It was in the face of this very altered situation that Cowperwoodarrived at Stener's office late this Monday afternoon. 

Stener was quite alone, worried and distraught. He was anxious to seeCowperwood, and at the same time afraid. 

"George, " began Cowperwood, briskly, on seeing him, "I haven't much timeto spare now, but I've come, finally, to tell you that you'll have tolet me have three hundred thousand more if you don't want me to fail. Things are looking very bad today. They've caught me in a corner onmy loans; but this storm isn't going to last. You can see by the verycharacter of it that it can't. "

He was looking at Stener's face, and seeing fear and a pained andyet very definite necessity for opposition written there. "Chicago isburning, but it will be built up again. Business will be all the betterfor it later on. Now, I want you to be reasonable and help me. Don't getfrightened. "

Stener stirred uneasily. "Don't let these politicians scare you todeath. It will all blow over in a few days, and then we'll be better offthan ever. Did you see Mollenhauer?"

"Yes. "

"Well, what did he have to say?"

"He said just what I thought he'd say. He won't let me do this. I can't, Frank, I tell you!" exclaimed Stener, jumping up. He was so nervousthat he had had a hard time keeping his seat during this short, directconversation. "I can't! They've got me in a corner! They're after me!They all know what we've been doing. Oh, say, Frank"--he threw up hisarms wildly--"you've got to get me out of this. You've got to let mehave that five hundred thousand back and get me out of this. If youdon't, and you should fail, they'll send me to the penitentiary. I'vegot a wife and four children, Frank. I can't go on in this. It's too bigfor me. I never should have gone in on it in the first place. I neverwould have if you hadn't persuaded me, in a way. I never thought when Ibegan that I would ever get in as bad as all this. I can't go on, Frank. I can't! I'm willing you should have all my stock. Only give me backthat five hundred thousand, and we'll call it even. " His voice rosenervously as he talked, and he wiped his wet forehead with his hand andstared at Cowperwood pleadingly, foolishly. 

Cowperwood stared at him in return for a few moments with a cold, fishyeye. He knew a great deal about human nature, and he was ready for andexpectant of any queer shift in an individual's attitude, particularlyin time of panic; but this shift of Stener's was quite too much. "Whomelse have you been talking to, George, since I saw you? Whom have youseen? What did Sengstack have to say?"

"He says just what Mollenhauer does, that I mustn't loan any more moneyunder any circumstances, and he says I ought to get that five hundredthousand back as quickly as possible. "

"And you think Mollenhauer wants to help you, do you?" inquiredCowperwood, finding it hard to efface the contempt which kept forcingitself into his voice. 

"I think he does, yes. I don't know who else will, Frank, if he don't. He's one of the big political forces in this town. "

"Listen to me, " began Cowperwood, eyeing him fixedly. Then he paused. "What did he say you should do about your holdings?"

"Sell them through Tighe & Company and put the money back in thetreasury, if you won't take them. "

"Sell them to whom?" asked Cowperwood, thinking of Stener's last words. 

"To any one on 'change who'll take them, I suppose. I don't know. "

"I thought so, " said Cowperwood, comprehendingly. "I might have knownas much. They're working you, George. They're simply trying to get yourstocks away from you. Mollenhauer is leading you on. He knows I can't dowhat you want--give you back the five hundred thousand dollars. He wantsyou to throw your stocks on the market so that he can pick them up. Depend on it, that's all arranged for already. When you do, he's got mein his clutches, or he thinks he has--he and Butler and Simpson. Theywant to get together on this local street-railway situation, and I knowit, I feel it. I've felt it coming all along. Mollenhauer hasn't anymore intention of helping you than he has of flying. Once you've soldyour stocks he's through with you--mark my word. Do you think he'llturn a hand to keep you out of the penitentiary once you're out of thisstreet-railway situation? He will not. And if you think so, you're abigger fool than I take you to be, George. Don't go crazy. Don't loseyour head. Be sensible. Look the situation in the face. Let me explainit to you. If you don't help me now--if you don't let me have threehundred thousand dollars by to-morrow noon, at the very latest, I'mthrough, and so are you. There is not a thing the matter with oursituation. Those stocks of ours are as good to-day as they ever were. Why, great heavens, man, the railways are there behind them. They'repaying. The Seventeenth and Nineteenth Street line is earning onethousand dollars a day right now. What better evidence do you want thanthat? Green & Coates is earning five hundred dollars. You're frightened, George. These damned political schemers have scared you. Why, you've asgood a right to loan that money as Bode and Murtagh had before you. Theydid it. You've been doing it for Mollenhauer and the others, only solong as you do it for them it's all right. What's a designated citydepository but a loan?"

Cowperwood was referring to the system under which certain portions ofcity money, like the sinking-fund, were permitted to be kept in certainbanks at a low rate of interest or no rate--banks in which Mollenhauerand Butler and Simpson were interested. This was their safe graft. 

"Don't throw your chances away, George. Don't quit now. You'll be worthmillions in a few years, and you won't have to turn a hand. All you willhave to do will be to keep what you have. If you don't help me, mark myword, they'll throw you over the moment I'm out of this, and they'll letyou go to the penitentiary. Who's going to put up five hundred thousanddollars for you, George? Where is Mollenhauer going to get it, orButler, or anybody, in these times? They can't. They don't intend to. When I'm through, you're through, and you'll be exposed quicker than anyone else. They can't hurt me, George. I'm an agent. I didn't ask you tocome to me. You came to me in the first place of your own accord. If youdon't help me, you're through, I tell you, and you're going to be sentto the penitentiary as sure as there are jails. Why don't you take astand, George? Why don't you stand your ground? You have your wife andchildren to look after. You can't be any worse off loaning me threehundred thousand more than you are right now. What difference does itmake--five hundred thousand or eight hundred thousand? It's all one andthe same thing, if you're going to be tried for it. Besides, if you loanme this, there isn't going to be any trial. I'm not going to fail. Thisstorm will blow over in a week or ten days, and we'll be rich again. For Heaven's sake, George, don't go to pieces this way! Be sensible! Bereasonable!"

He paused, for Stener's face had become a jelly-like mass of woe. 

"I can't, Frank, " he wailed. "I tell you I can't. They'll punish meworse than ever if I do that. They'll never let up on me. You don't knowthese people. "

In Stener's crumpling weakness Cowperwood read his own fate. What couldyou do with a man like that? How brace him up? You couldn't! And with agesture of infinite understanding, disgust, noble indifference, he threwup his hands and started to walk out. At the door he turned. 

"George, " he said, "I'm sorry. I'm sorry for you, not for myself. I'llcome out of things all right, eventually. I'll be rich. But, George, you're making the one great mistake of your life. You'll be poor; you'llbe a convict, and you'll have only yourself to blame. There isn't athing the matter with this money situation except the fire. There isn'ta thing wrong with my affairs except this slump in stocks--this panic. You sit there, a fortune in your hands, and you allow a lot of schemers, highbinders, who don't know any more of your affairs or mine than arabbit, and who haven't any interest in you except to plan what they canget out of you, to frighten you and prevent you from doing the one thingthat will save your life. Three hundred thousand paltry dollars that inthree or four weeks from now I can pay back to you four and fivetimes over, and for that you will see me go broke and yourself to thepenitentiary. I can't understand it, George. You're out of your mind. You're going to rue this the longest day that you live. "

He waited a few moments to see if this, by any twist of chance, wouldhave any effect; then, noting that Stener still remained a wilted, helpless mass of nothing, he shook his head gloomily and walked out. 

It was the first time in his life that Cowperwood had ever shown theleast sign of weakening or despair. He had felt all along as thoughthere were nothing to the Greek theory of being pursued by the furies. Now, however, there seemed an untoward fate which was pursuing him. It looked that way. Still, fate or no fate, he did not propose to bedaunted. Even in this very beginning of a tendency to feel despondent hethrew back his head, expanded his chest, and walked as briskly as ever. 

In the large room outside Stener's private office he encountered AlbertStires, Stener's chief clerk and secretary. He and Albert had exchangedmany friendly greetings in times past, and all the little minortransactions in regard to city loan had been discussed between them, forAlbert knew more of the intricacies of finance and financial bookkeepingthan Stener would ever know. 

At the sight of Stires the thought in regard to the sixty thousanddollars' worth of city loan certificates, previously referred to, flashed suddenly through his mind. He had not deposited them in thesinking-fund, and did not intend to for the present--could not, unlessconsiderable free money were to reach him shortly--for he had used themto satisfy other pressing demands, and had no free money to buy themback--or, in other words, release them. And he did not want to just atthis moment. Under the law governing transactions of this kind with thecity treasurer, he was supposed to deposit them at once to the credit ofthe city, and not to draw his pay therefor from the city treasurer untilhe had. To be very exact, the city treasurer, under the law, was notsupposed to pay him for any transaction of this kind until he or hisagents presented a voucher from the bank or other organization carryingthe sinking-fund for the city showing that the certificates so purchasedhad actually been deposited there. As a matter of fact, under the customwhich had grown up between him and Stener, the law had long beenignored in this respect. He could buy certificates of city loan forthe sinking-fund up to any reasonable amount, hypothecate them where hepleased, and draw his pay from the city without presenting a voucher. Atthe end of the month sufficient certificates of city loan could usuallybe gathered from one source and another to make up the deficiency, orthe deficiency could actually be ignored, as had been done on more thanone occasion, for long periods of time, while he used money secured byhypothecating the shares for speculative purposes. This was actuallyillegal; but neither Cowperwood nor Stener saw it in that light orcared. 

The trouble with this particular transaction was the note that he hadreceived from Stener ordering him to stop both buying and selling, whichput his relations with the city treasury on a very formal basis. Hehad bought these certificates before receiving this note, but had notdeposited them. He was going now to collect his check; but perhaps theold, easy system of balancing matters at the end of the month might notbe said to obtain any longer. Stires might ask him to present a voucherof deposit. If so, he could not now get this check for sixty thousanddollars, for he did not have the certificates to deposit. If not, hemight get the money; but, also, it might constitute the basis ofsome subsequent legal action. If he did not eventually deposit thecertificates before failure, some charge such as that of larceny mightbe brought against him. Still, he said to himself, he might not reallyfail even yet. If any of his banking associates should, for any reason, modify their decision in regard to calling his loans, he would not. Would Stener make a row about this if he so secured this check? Wouldthe city officials pay any attention to him if he did? Could you get anydistrict attorney to take cognizance of such a transaction, if Stenerdid complain? No, not in all likelihood; and, anyhow, nothing wouldcome of it. No jury would punish him in the face of the understandingexisting between him and Stener as agent or broker and principal. And, once he had the money, it was a hundred to one Stener would think nomore about it. It would go in among the various unsatisfied liabilities, and nothing more would be thought about it. Like lightning the entiresituation hashed through his mind. He would risk it. He stopped beforethe chief clerk's desk. 

"Albert, " he said, in a low voice, "I bought sixty thousand dollars'worth of city loan for the sinking-fund this morning. Will you give myboy a check for it in the morning, or, better yet, will you give it tome now? I got your note about no more purchases. I'm going back tothe office. You can just credit the sinking-fund with eight hundredcertificates at from seventy-five to eighty. I'll send you the itemizedlist later. "

"Certainly, Mr. Cowperwood, certainly, " replied Albert, with alacrity. "Stocks are getting an awful knock, aren't they? I hope you're not verymuch troubled by it?"

"Not very, Albert, " replied Cowperwood, smiling, the while the chiefclerk was making out his check. He was wondering if by any chanceStener would appear and attempt to interfere with this. It was a legaltransaction. He had a right to the check provided he deposited thecertificates, as was his custom, with the trustee of the fund. He waitedtensely while Albert wrote, and finally, with the check actually inhis hand, breathed a sigh of relief. Here, at least, was sixty thousanddollars, and to-night's work would enable him to cash the seventy-fivethousand that had been promised him. To-morrow, once more he must seeLeigh, Kitchen, Jay Cooke & Co. , Edward Clark & Co. --all the long listof people to whom he owed loans and find out what could be done. If hecould only get time! If he could get just a week!

Chapter XXIX

But time was not a thing to be had in this emergency. With theseventy-five thousand dollars his friends had extended to him, and sixtythousand dollars secured from Stires, Cowperwood met the Girard call andplaced the balance, thirty-five thousand dollars, in a private safe inhis own home. He then made a final appeal to the bankers and financiers, but they refused to help him. He did not, however, commiserate himselfin this hour. He looked out of his office window into the little court, and sighed. What more could he do? He sent a note to his father, askinghim to call for lunch. He sent a note to his lawyer, Harper Steger, aman of his own age whom he liked very much, and asked him to callalso. He evolved in his own mind various plans of delay, addresses tocreditors and the like, but alas! he was going to fail. And the worstof it was that this matter of the city treasurer's loans was bound tobecome a public, and more than a public, a political, scandal. And thecharge of conniving, if not illegally, at least morally, at the misuseof the city's money was the one thing that would hurt him most. 

How industriously his rivals would advertise this fact! He might geton his feet again if he failed; but it would be uphill work. And hisfather! His father would be pulled down with him. It was probablethat he would be forced out of the presidency of his bank. With thesethoughts Cowperwood sat there waiting. As he did so Aileen Butler wasannounced by his office-boy, and at the same time Albert Stires. 

"Show in Miss Butler, " he said, getting up. "Tell Mr. Stires to wait. "Aileen came briskly, vigorously in, her beautiful body clothed asdecoratively as ever. The street suit that she wore was of a lightgolden-brown broadcloth, faceted with small, dark-red buttons. Her headwas decorated with a brownish-red shake of a type she had learned wasbecoming to her, brimless and with a trailing plume, and her throat wasgraced by a three-strand necklace of gold beads. Her hands were smoothlygloved as usual, and her little feet daintily shod. There was a lookof girlish distress in her eyes, which, however, she was trying hard toconceal. 

"Honey, " she exclaimed, on seeing him, her arms extended--"what is thetrouble? I wanted so much to ask you the other night. You're not goingto fail, are you? I heard father and Owen talking about you last night. "

"What did they say?" he inquired, putting his arm around her and lookingquietly into her nervous eyes. 

"Oh, you know, I think papa is very angry with you. He suspects. Someone sent him an anonymous letter. He tried to get it out of me lastnight, but he didn't succeed. I denied everything. I was in here twicethis morning to see you, but you were out. I was so afraid that he mightsee you first, and that you might say something. "

"Me, Aileen?"

"Well, no, not exactly. I didn't think that. I don't know what Ithought. Oh, honey, I've been so worried. You know, I didn't sleep atall. I thought I was stronger than that; but I was so worried about you. You know, he put me in a strong light by his desk, where he could see myface, and then he showed me the letter. I was so astonished for a momentI hardly know what I said or how I looked. "

"What did you say?"

"Why, I said: 'What a shame! It isn't so!' But I didn't say it rightaway. My heart was going like a trip-hammer. I'm afraid he must havebeen able to tell something from my face. I could hardly get my breath. "

"He's a shrewd man, your father, " he commented. "He knows somethingabout life. Now you see how difficult these situations are. It's ablessing he decided to show you the letter instead of watching thehouse. I suppose he felt too bad to do that. He can't prove anythingnow. But he knows. You can't deceive him. "

"How do you know he knows?"

"I saw him yesterday. "

"Did he talk to you about it?"

"No; I saw his face. He simply looked at me. "

"Honey! I'm so sorry for him!"

"I know you are. So am I. But it can't be helped now. We should havethought of that in the first place. "

"But I love you so. Oh, honey, he will never forgive me. He loves me so. He mustn't know. I won't admit anything. But, oh, dear!"

She put her hands tightly together on his bosom, and he lookedconsolingly into her eyes. Her eyelids, were trembling, and her lips. She was sorry for her father, herself, Cowperwood. Through her he couldsense the force of Butler's parental affection; the volume and danger ofhis rage. There were so many, many things as he saw it now converging tomake a dramatic denouement. 

"Never mind, " he replied; "it can't be helped now. Where is my strong, determined Aileen? I thought you were going to be so brave? Aren't yougoing to be? I need to have you that way now. "

"Do you?"

"Yes. "

"Are you in trouble?"

"I think I am going to fail, dear. "

"Oh, no!"

"Yes, honey. I'm at the end of my rope. I don't see any way out just atpresent. I've sent for my father and my lawyer. You mustn't stayhere, sweet. Your father may come in here at any time. We must meetsomewhere--to-morrow, say--to-morrow afternoon. You remember IndianRock, out on the Wissahickon?"

"Yes. "

"Could you be there at four?"

"Yes. "

"Look out for who's following. If I'm not there by four-thirty, don'twait. You know why. It will be because I think some one is watching. There won't be, though, if we work it right. And now you must run, sweet. We can't use Nine-thirty-one any more. I'll have to rent anotherplace somewhere else. "

"Oh, honey, I'm so sorry. "

"Aren't you going to be strong and brave? You see, I need you to be. "

He was almost, for the first time, a little sad in his mood. 

"Yes, dear, yes, " she declared, slipping her arms under his and pullinghim tight. "Oh, yes! You can depend on me. Oh, Frank, I love you so!I'm so sorry. Oh, I do hope you don't fail! But it doesn't make anydifference, dear, between you and me, whatever happens, does it? We willlove each other just the same. I'll do anything for you, honey! I'll doanything you say. You can trust me. They sha'n't know anything from me. "

She looked at his still, pale face, and a sudden strong determinationto fight for him welled up in her heart. Her love was unjust, illegal, outlawed; but it was love, just the same, and had much of the fierydaring of the outcast from justice. 

"I love you! I love you! I love you, Frank!" she declared. He unloosedher hands. 

"Run, sweet. To-morrow at four. Don't fail. And don't talk. And don'tadmit anything, whatever you do. "

"I won't. "

"And don't worry about me. I'll be all right. "

He barely had time to straighten his tie, to assume a nonchalantattitude by the window, when in hurried Stener's chief clerk--pale, disturbed, obviously out of key with himself. 

"Mr. Cowperwood! You know that check I gave you last night? Mr. Stenersays it's illegal, that I shouldn't have given it to you, that he willhold me responsible. He says I can be arrested for compounding a felony, and that he will discharge me and have me sent to prison if I don'tget it back. Oh, Mr. Cowperwood, I am only a young man! I'm just reallystarting out in life. I've got my wife and little boy to look after. Youwon't let him do that to me? You'll give me that check back, won't you?I can't go back to the office without it. He says you're going to fail, and that you knew it, and that you haven't any right to it. "

Cowperwood looked at him curiously. He was surprised at the variety andcharacter of these emissaries of disaster. Surely, when troubles choseto multiply they had great skill in presenting themselves in rapidorder. Stener had no right to make any such statement. The transactionwas not illegal. The man had gone wild. True, he, Cowperwood, hadreceived an order after these securities were bought not to buy or sellany more city loan, but that did not invalidate previous purchases. Stener was browbeating and frightening his poor underling, a better manthan himself, in order to get back this sixty-thousand-dollar check. What a petty creature he was! How true it was, as somebody had remarked, that you could not possibly measure the petty meannesses to which a foolcould stoop!

"You go back to Mr. Stener, Albert, and tell him that it can't be done. The certificates of loan were purchased before his order arrived, andthe records of the exchange will prove it. There is no illegality here. I am entitled to that check and could have collected it in any qualifiedcourt of law. The man has gone out of his head. I haven't failed yet. You are not in any danger of any legal proceedings; and if you are, I'llhelp defend you. I can't give you the check back because I haven't it togive; and if I had, I wouldn't. That would be allowing a fool to make afool of me. I'm sorry, very, but I can't do anything for you. "

"Oh, Mr. Cowperwood!" Tears were in Stires's eyes. "He'll discharge me!He'll forfeit my sureties. I'll be turned out into the street. I haveonly a little property of my own--outside of my salary!"

He wrung his hands, and Cowperwood shook his head sadly. 

"This isn't as bad as you think, Albert. He won't do what he says. Hecan't. It's unfair and illegal. You can bring suit and recover yoursalary. I'll help you in that as much as I'm able. But I can't give youback this sixty-thousand-dollar check, because I haven't it to give. I couldn't if I wanted to. It isn't here any more. I've paid for thesecurities I bought with it. The securities are not here. They're in thesinking-fund, or will be. "

He paused, wishing he had not mentioned that fact. It was a slip of thetongue, one of the few he ever made, due to the peculiar pressure of thesituation. Stires pleaded longer. It was no use, Cowperwood told him. Finally he went away, crestfallen, fearsome, broken. There were tearsof suffering in his eyes. Cowperwood was very sorry. And then his fatherwas announced. 

The elder Cowperwood brought a haggard face. He and Frank had had a longconversation the evening before, lasting until early morning, but it hadnot been productive of much save uncertainty. 

"Hello, father!" exclaimed Cowperwood, cheerfully, noting his father'sgloom. He was satisfied that there was scarcely a coal of hope to beraked out of these ashes of despair, but there was no use admitting it. 

"Well?" said his father, lifting his sad eyes in a peculiar way. 

"Well, it looks like stormy weather, doesn't it? I've decided to call ameeting of my creditors, father, and ask for time. There isn't anythingelse to do. I can't realize enough on anything to make it worth whiletalking about. I thought Stener might change his mind, but he's worserather than better. His head bookkeeper just went out of here. "

"What did he want?" asked Henry Cowperwood. 

"He wanted me to give him back a check for sixty thousand that he paidme for some city loan I bought yesterday morning. " Frank did not explainto his father, however, that he had hypothecated the certificates thischeck had paid for, and used the check itself to raise money enough topay the Girard National Bank and to give himself thirty-five thousand incash besides. 

"Well, I declare!" replied the old man. "You'd think he'd have bettersense than that. That's a perfectly legitimate transaction. When did yousay he notified you not to buy city loan?"

"Yesterday noon. "

"He's out of his mind, " Cowperwood, Sr. , commented, laconically. 

"It's Mollenhauer and Simpson and Butler, I know. They want mystreet-railway lines. Well, they won't get them. They'll get themthrough a receivership, and after the panic's all over. Our creditorswill have first chance at these. If they buy, they'll buy from them. Ifit weren't for that five-hundred-thousand-dollar loan I wouldn't think athing of this. My creditors would sustain me nicely. But the moment thatgets noised around!. . . And this election! I hypothecated those city loancertificates because I didn't want to get on the wrong side of Davison. I expected to take in enough by now to take them up. They ought to be inthe sinking-fund, really. "

The old gentleman saw the point at once, and winced. 

"They might cause you trouble, there, Frank. "

"It's a technical question, " replied his son. "I might have beenintending to take them up. As a matter of fact, I will if I can beforethree. I've been taking eight and ten days to deposit them in the past. In a storm like this I'm entitled to move my pawns as best I can. "

Cowperwood, the father, put his hand over his mouth again. He felt verydisturbed about this. He saw no way out, however. He was at the endof his own resources. He felt the side-whiskers on his left cheek. Helooked out of the window into the little green court. Possibly it was atechnical question, who should say. The financial relations of the citytreasury with other brokers before Frank had been very lax. Every bankerknew that. Perhaps precedent would or should govern in this case. Hecould not say. Still, it was dangerous--not straight. If Frank could getthem out and deposit them it would be so much better. 

"I'd take them up if I were you and I could, " he added. 

"I will if I can. "

"How much money have you?"

"Oh, twenty thousand, all told. If I suspend, though, I'll have to havea little ready cash. "

"I have eight or ten thousand, or will have by night, I hope. "

He was thinking of some one who would give him a second mortgage on hishouse. 

Cowperwood looked quietly at him. There was nothing more to be said tohis father. "I'm going to make one more appeal to Stener after you leavehere, " he said. "I'm going over there with Harper Steger when he comes. If he won't change I'll send out notice to my creditors, and notifythe secretary of the exchange. I want you to keep a stiff upper lip, whatever happens. I know you will, though. I'm going into the thing headdown. If Stener had any sense--" He paused. "But what's the use talkingabout a damn fool?"

He turned to the window, thinking of how easy it would have been, ifAileen and he had not been exposed by this anonymous note, to havearranged all with Butler. Rather than injure the party, Butler, inextremis, would have assisted him. Now. . . !

His father got up to go. He was as stiff with despair as though he weresuffering from cold. 

"Well, " he said, wearily. 

Cowperwood suffered intensely for him. What a shame! His father! He felta great surge of sorrow sweep over him but a moment later mastered it, and settled to his quick, defiant thinking. As the old man went out, Harper Steger was brought in. They shook hands, and at once startedfor Stener's office. But Stener had sunk in on himself like an emptygas-bag, and no efforts were sufficient to inflate him. They went out, finally, defeated. 

"I tell you, Frank, " said Steger, "I wouldn't worry. We can tie thisthing up legally until election and after, and that will give all thisrow a chance to die down. Then you can get your people together and talksense to them. They're not going to give up good properties like this, even if Stener does go to jail. "

Steger did not know of the sixty thousand dollars' worth of hypothecatedsecurities as yet. Neither did he know of Aileen Butler and her father'sboundless rage. 

Chapter XXX

There was one development in connection with all of this of whichCowperwood was as yet unaware. The same day that brought Edward Butlerthe anonymous communication in regard to his daughter, brought almost aduplicate of it to Mrs. Frank Algernon Cowperwood, only in this case thename of Aileen Butler had curiously been omitted. 

Perhaps you don't know that your husband is running with another woman. If you don't believe it, watch the house at 931 North Tenth Street. 

Mrs. Cowperwood was in the conservatory watering some plants when thisletter was brought by her maid Monday morning. She was most placid inher thoughts, for she did not know what all the conferring of the nightbefore meant. Frank was occasionally troubled by financial storms, butthey did not see to harm him. 

"Lay it on the table in the library, Annie. I'll get it. "

She thought it was some social note. 

In a little while (such was her deliberate way), she put down hersprinkling-pot and went into the library. There it was lying on thegreen leather sheepskin which constituted a part of the ornamentationof the large library table. She picked it up, glanced at it curiouslybecause it was on cheap paper, and then opened it. Her face paledslightly as she read it; and then her hand trembled--not much. Herswas not a soul that ever loved passionately, hence she could not sufferpassionately. She was hurt, disgusted, enraged for the moment, andfrightened; but she was not broken in spirit entirely. Thirteen yearsof life with Frank Cowperwood had taught her a number of things. He wasselfish, she knew now, self-centered, and not as much charmed by her ashe had been. The fear she had originally felt as to the effect of herpreponderance of years had been to some extent justified by the lapseof time. Frank did not love her as he had--he had not for some time; shehad felt it. What was it?--she had asked herself at times--almost, whowas it? Business was engrossing him so. 

Finance was his master. Did this mean the end of her regime, shequeried. Would he cast her off? Where would she go? What would she do?She was not helpless, of course, for she had money of her own whichhe was manipulating for her. Who was this other woman? Was she young, beautiful, of any social position? Was it--? Suddenly she stopped. Wasit? Could it be, by any chance--her mouth opened--Aileen Butler?

She stood still, staring at this letter, for she could scarcelycountenance her own thought. She had observed often, in spite of alltheir caution, how friendly Aileen had been to him and he to her. Heliked her; he never lost a chance to defend her. Lillian had thought ofthem at times as being curiously suited to each other temperamentally. He liked young people. But, of course, he was married, and Aileen wasinfinitely beneath him socially, and he had two children and herself. And his social and financial position was so fixed and stable that hedid not dare trifle with it. Still she paused; for forty years and twochildren, and some slight wrinkles, and the suspicion that we may be nolonger loved as we once were, is apt to make any woman pause, even inthe face of the most significant financial position. Where would she goif she left him? What would people think? What about the children?Could she prove this liaison? Could she entrap him in a compromisingsituation? Did she want to?

She saw now that she did not love him as some women love their husbands. She was not wild about him. In a way she had been taking him forgranted all these years, had thought that he loved her enough not to beunfaithful to her; at least fancied that he was so engrossed with themore serious things of life that no petty liaison such as this letterindicated would trouble him or interrupt his great career. Apparentlythis was not true. What should she do? What say? How act? Her none toobrilliant mind was not of much service in this crisis. She did not knowvery well how either to plan or to fight. 

The conventional mind is at best a petty piece of machinery. It isoyster-like in its functioning, or, perhaps better, clam-like. It hasits little siphon of thought-processes forced up or down into the mightyocean of fact and circumstance; but it uses so little, pumps so faintly, that the immediate contiguity of the vast mass is not disturbed. Nothingof the subtlety of life is perceived. No least inkling of its stormsor terrors is ever discovered except through accident. When some crude, suggestive fact, such as this letter proved to be, suddenly manifestsitself in the placid flow of events, there is great agony or disturbanceand clogging of the so-called normal processes. The siphon does notwork right. It sucks in fear and distress. There is great grinding ofmaladjusted parts--not unlike sand in a machine--and life, as is sooften the case, ceases or goes lamely ever after. 

Mrs. Cowperwood was possessed of a conventional mind. She really knewnothing about life. And life could not teach her. Reaction in her fromsalty thought-processes was not possible. She was not alive in thesense that Aileen Butler was, and yet she thought that she was verymuch alive. All illusion. She wasn't. She was charming if you lovedplacidity. If you did not, she was not. She was not engaging, brilliant, or forceful. Frank Cowperwood might well have asked himself in thebeginning why he married her. He did not do so now because he didnot believe it was wise to question the past as to one's failures anderrors. It was, according to him, most unwise to regret. He kept hisface and thoughts to the future. 

But Mrs. Cowperwood was truly distressed in her way, and she went aboutthe house thinking, feeling wretchedly. She decided, since the letterasked her to see for herself, to wait. She must think how she wouldwatch this house, if at all. Frank must not know. If it were AileenButler by any chance--but surely not--she thought she would expose herto her parents. Still, that meant exposing herself. She determined toconceal her mood as best she could at dinner-time--but Cowperwood wasnot able to be there. He was so rushed, so closeted with individuals, soclosely in conference with his father and others, that she scarcely sawhim this Monday night, nor the next day, nor for many days. 

For on Tuesday afternoon at two-thirty he issued a call for a meeting ofhis creditors, and at five-thirty he decided to go into the hands of areceiver. And yet, as he stood before his principal creditors--a groupof thirty men--in his office, he did not feel that his life was ruined. He was temporarily embarrassed. Certainly things looked very black. Thecity-treasurership deal would make a great fuss. Those hypothecated cityloan certificates, to the extent of sixty thousand, would make another, if Stener chose. Still, he did not feel that he was utterly destroyed. 

"Gentlemen, " he said, in closing his address of explanation at themeeting, quite as erect, secure, defiant, convincing as he had everbeen, "you see how things are. These securities are worth just as muchas they ever were. There is nothing the matter with the propertiesbehind them. If you will give me fifteen days or twenty, I am satisfiedthat I can straighten the whole matter out. I am almost the only one whocan, for I know all about it. The market is bound to recover. Businessis going to be better than ever. It's time I want. Time is the onlysignificant factor in this situation. I want to know if you won't giveme fifteen or twenty days--a month, if you can. That is all I want. "

He stepped aside and out of the general room, where the blinds weredrawn, into his private office, in order to give his creditors anopportunity to confer privately in regard to his situation. He hadfriends in the meeting who were for him. He waited one, two, nearlythree hours while they talked. Finally Walter Leigh, Judge Kitchen, Avery Stone, of Jay Cooke & Co. , and several others came in. They were acommittee appointed to gather further information. 

"Nothing more can be done to-day, Frank, " Walter Leigh informed him, quietly. "The majority want the privilege of examining the books. Thereis some uncertainty about this entanglement with the city treasurerwhich you say exists. They feel that you'd better announce a temporarysuspension, anyhow; and if they want to let you resume later they can doso. "

"I'm sorry for that, gentlemen, " replied Cowperwood, the least bitdepressed. "I would rather do anything than suspend for one hour, if Icould help it, for I know just what it means. You will find assetshere far exceeding the liabilities if you will take the stocks at theirnormal market value; but that won't help any if I close my doors. Thepublic won't believe in me. I ought to keep open. "

"Sorry, Frank, old boy, " observed Leigh, pressing his handaffectionately. "If it were left to me personally, you could have allthe time you want. There's a crowd of old fogies out there that won'tlisten to reason. They're panic-struck. I guess they're pretty hardhit themselves. You can scarcely blame them. You'll come out all right, though I wish you didn't have to shut up shop. We can't do anything withthem, however. Why, damn it, man, I don't see how you can fail, really. In ten days these stocks will be all right. "

Judge Kitchen commiserated with him also; but what good did that do? Hewas being compelled to suspend. An expert accountant would have tocome in and go over his books. Butler might spread the news of thiscity-treasury connection. Stener might complain of this last city-loantransaction. A half-dozen of his helpful friends stayed with him untilfour o'clock in the morning; but he had to suspend just the same. Andwhen he did that, he knew he was seriously crippled if not ultimatelydefeated in his race for wealth and fame. 

When he was really and finally quite alone in his private bedroomhe stared at himself in the mirror. His face was pale and tired, hethought, but strong and effective. "Pshaw!" he said to himself, "I'mnot whipped. I'm still young. I'll get out of this in some way yet. Certainly I will. I'll find some way out. "

And so, cogitating heavily, wearily, he began to undress. Finally hesank upon his bed, and in a little while, strange as it may seem, withall the tangle of trouble around him, slept. He could do that--sleepand gurgle most peacefully, the while his father paced the floor in hisroom, refusing to be comforted. All was dark before the older man--thefuture hopeless. Before the younger man was still hope. 

And in her room Lillian Cowperwood turned and tossed in the face of thisnew calamity. For it had suddenly appeared from news from her father andFrank and Anna and her mother-in-law that Frank was about to fail, orwould, or had--it was almost impossible to say just how it was. Frankwas too busy to explain. The Chicago fire was to blame. There was nomention as yet of the city treasurership. Frank was caught in a trap, and was fighting for his life. 

In this crisis, for the moment, she forgot about the note as to hisinfidelity, or rather ignored it. She was astonished, frightened, dumbfounded, confused. Her little, placid, beautiful world was goingaround in a dizzy ring. The charming, ornate ship of their fortune wasbeing blown most ruthlessly here and there. She felt it a sort of dutyto stay in bed and try to sleep; but her eyes were quite wide, and herbrain hurt her. Hours before Frank had insisted that she should notbother about him, that she could do nothing; and she had left him, wondering more than ever what and where was the line of her duty. Tostick by her husband, convention told her; and so she decided. Yes, religion dictated that, also custom. There were the children. They mustnot be injured. Frank must be reclaimed, if possible. He would get overthis. But what a blow!

Chapter XXXI

The suspension of the banking house of Frank A. Cowperwood & Co. Created a great stir on 'change and in Philadelphia generally. It was sounexpected, and the amount involved was comparatively so large. Actuallyhe failed for one million two hundred and fifty thousand dollars;and his assets, under the depressed condition of stock values, barelytotaled seven hundred and fifty thousand dollars. There had beenconsiderable work done on the matter of his balance-sheet before itwas finally given to the public; but when it was, stocks dropped anadditional three points generally, and the papers the next day devotednotable headlines to it. Cowperwood had no idea of failing permanently;he merely wished to suspend temporarily, and later, if possible, topersuade his creditors to allow him to resume. There were only twothings which stood in the way of this: the matter of the five hundredthousand dollars borrowed from the city treasury at a ridiculously lowrate of interest, which showed plainer than words what had been goingon, and the other, the matter of the sixty-thousand-dollar check. Hisfinancial wit had told him there were ways to assign his holdings infavor of his largest creditors, which would tend to help him later toresume; and he had been swift to act. Indeed, Harper Steger had drawn updocuments which named Jay Cooke & Co. , Edward Clark & Co. , Drexel & Co. , and others as preferred. He knew that even though dissatisfied holdersof smaller shares in his company brought suit and compelled readjustmentor bankruptcy later, the intention shown to prefer some of his mostinfluential aids was important. They would like it, and might help himlater when all this was over. Besides, suits in plenty are an excellentway of tiding over a crisis of this kind until stocks and common senseare restored, and he was for many suits. Harper Steger smiled oncerather grimly, even in the whirl of the financial chaos where smileswere few, as they were figuring it out. 

"Frank, " he said, "you're a wonder. You'll have a network of suitsspread here shortly, which no one can break through. They'll all besuing each other. "

Cowperwood smiled. 

"I only want a little time, that's all, " he replied. Nevertheless, for the first time in his life he was a little depressed; for now thisbusiness, to which he had devoted years of active work and thought, wasended. 

The thing that was troubling him most in all of this was not the fivehundred thousand dollars which was owing the city treasury, and whichhe knew would stir political and social life to the center once itwas generally known--that was a legal or semi-legal transaction, atleast--but rather the matter of the sixty thousand dollars' worth ofunrestored city loan certificates which he had not been able to replacein the sinking-fund and could not now even though the necessary moneyshould fall from heaven. The fact of their absence was a matter ofsource. He pondered over the situation a good deal. The thing to do, hethought, if he went to Mollenhauer or Simpson, or both (he had nevermet either of them, but in view of Butler's desertion they were his onlyrecourse), was to say that, although he could not at present return thefive hundred thousand dollars, if no action were taken against him now, which would prevent his resuming his business on a normal scale a littlelater, he would pledge his word that every dollar of the involved fivehundred thousand dollars would eventually be returned to the treasury. If they refused, and injury was done him, he proposed to let them waituntil he was "good and ready, " which in all probability would be never. But, really, it was not quite clear how action against him was to beprevented--even by them. The money was down on his books as owing thecity treasury, and it was down on the city treasury's books as owingfrom him. Besides, there was a local organization known as the Citizens'Municipal Reform Association which occasionally conducted investigationsin connection with public affairs. His defalcation would be sure to cometo the ears of this body and a public investigation might well follow. Various private individuals knew of it already. His creditors, forinstance, who were now examining his books. 

This matter of seeing Mollenhauer or Simpson, or both, was important, anyhow, he thought; but before doing so he decided to talk it all overwith Harper Steger. So several days after he had closed his doors, hesent for Steger and told him all about the transaction, except that hedid not make it clear that he had not intended to put the certificatesin the sinking-fund unless he survived quite comfortably. 

Harper Steger was a tall, thin, graceful, rather elegant man, of gentlevoice and perfect manners, who walked always as though he were a cat, and a dog were prowling somewhere in the offing. He had a longish, thinface of a type that is rather attractive to women. His eyes were blue, his hair brown, with a suggestion of sandy red in it. He had a steady, inscrutable gaze which sometimes came to you over a thin, delicate hand, which he laid meditatively over his mouth. He was cruel to the limitof the word, not aggressively but indifferently; for he had no faith inanything. He was not poor. He had not even been born poor. He was justinnately subtle, with the rather constructive thought, which was aboutthe only thing that compelled him to work, that he ought to be richerthan he was--more conspicuous. Cowperwood was an excellent avenue towardlegal prosperity. Besides, he was a fascinating customer. Of all hisclients, Steger admired Cowperwood most. 

"Let them proceed against you, " he said on this occasion, his brilliantlegal mind taking in all the phases of the situation at once. "I don'tsee that there is anything more here than a technical charge. If itever came to anything like that, which I don't think it will, the chargewould be embezzlement or perhaps larceny as bailee. In this instance, you were the bailee. And the only way out of that would be to swear thatyou had received the check with Stener's knowledge and consent. Then itwould only be a technical charge of irresponsibility on your part, as Isee it, and I don't believe any jury would convict you on the evidenceof how this relationship was conducted. Still, it might; you never cantell what a jury is going to do. All this would have to come out at atrial, however. The whole thing, it seems to me, would depend on whichof you two--yourself or Stener--the jury would be inclined to believe, and on how anxious this city crowd is to find a scapegoat for Stener. This coming election is the rub. If this panic had come at any othertime--"

Cowperwood waved for silence. He knew all about that. "It all dependson what the politicians decide to do. I'm doubtful. The situation is toocomplicated. It can't be hushed up. " They were in his private office athis house. "What will be will be, " he added. 

"What would that mean, Harper, legally, if I were tried on a charge oflarceny as bailee, as you put it, and convicted? How many years in thepenitentiary at the outside?"

Steger thought a minute, rubbing his chin with his hand. "Let me see, "he said, "that is a serious question, isn't it? The law says one tofive years at the outside; but the sentences usually average from one tothree years in embezzlement cases. Of course, in this case--"

"I know all about that, " interrupted Cowperwood, irritably. "My caseisn't any different from the others, and you know it. Embezzlementis embezzlement if the politicians want to have it so. " He fell tothinking, and Steger got up and strolled about leisurely. He wasthinking also. 

"And would I have to go to jail at any time during theproceedings--before a final adjustment of the case by the highercourts?" Cowperwood added, directly, grimly, after a time. 

"Yes, there is one point in all legal procedure of the kind, " repliedSteger, cautiously, now rubbing his ear and trying to put the matter asdelicately as possible. "You can avoid jail sentences all throughthe earlier parts of a case like this; but if you are once tried andconvicted it's pretty hard to do anything--as a matter of fact, itbecomes absolutely necessary then to go to jail for a few days, fiveor so, pending the motion for a new trial and the obtaining of acertificate of reasonable doubt. It usually takes that long. "

The young banker sat there staring out of the window, and Stegerobserved, "It is a bit complicated, isn't it?"

"Well, I should say so, " returned Frank, and he added to himself:"Jail! Five days in prison!" That would be a terrific slap, all thingsconsidered. Five days in jail pending the obtaining of a certificate ofreasonable doubt, if one could be obtained! He must avoid this! Jail!The penitentiary! His commercial reputation would never survive that. 

Chapter XXXII

The necessity of a final conference between Butler, Mollenhauer, andSimpson was speedily reached, for this situation was hourly growing moreserious. Rumors were floating about in Third Street that in addition tohaving failed for so large an amount as to have further unsettledthe already panicky financial situation induced by the Chicago fire, Cowperwood and Stener, or Stener working with Cowperwood, or the otherway round, had involved the city treasury to the extent of five hundredthousand dollars. And the question was how was the matter to be keptquiet until after election, which was still three weeks away. Bankersand brokers were communicating odd rumors to each other about a checkthat had been taken from the city treasury after Cowperwood knew he wasto fail, and without Stener's consent. Also that there was dangerthat it would come to the ears of that very uncomfortable politicalorganization known as the Citizens' Municipal Reform Association, of which a well-known iron-manufacturer of great probity and moralrectitude, one Skelton C. Wheat, was president. Wheat had for years beenfollowing on the trail of the dominant Republican administration in avain attempt to bring it to a sense of some of its political iniquities. He was a serious and austere man---one of those solemn, self-righteoussouls who see life through a peculiar veil of duty, and who, undisturbedby notable animal passions of any kind, go their way of upholding thetheory of the Ten Commandments over the order of things as they are. 

The committee in question had originally been organized to protestagainst some abuses in the tax department; but since then, from electionto election, it had been drifting from one subject to another, findingan occasional evidence of its worthwhileness in some newspaper commentand the frightened reformation of some minor political official whoended, usually, by taking refuge behind the skirts of some higherpolitical power--in the last reaches, Messrs. Butler, Mollenhauer, andSimpson. Just now it was without important fuel or ammunition; and thisassignment of Cowperwood, with its attendant crime, so far as the citytreasury was concerned, threatened, as some politicians and bankers sawit, to give it just the club it was looking for. 

However, the decisive conference took place between Cowperwood and thereigning political powers some five days after Cowperwood's failure, atthe home of Senator Simpson, which was located in Rittenhouse Square--aregion central for the older order of wealth in Philadelphia. Simpsonwas a man of no little refinement artistically, of Quaker extraction, and of great wealth-breeding judgment which he used largely to satisfyhis craving for political predominance. He was most liberal where moneywould bring him a powerful or necessary political adherent. He fairlyshowered offices--commissionerships, trusteeships, judgeships, politicalnominations, and executive positions generally--on those who did hisbidding faithfully and without question. Compared with Butler andMollenhauer he was more powerful than either, for he represented theState and the nation. When the political authorities who were tryingto swing a national election were anxious to discover what the State ofPennsylvania would do, so far as the Republican party was concerned, itwas to Senator Simpson that they appealed. In the literal sense ofthe word, he knew. The Senator had long since graduated from State tonational politics, and was an interesting figure in the United StatesSenate at Washington, where his voice in all the conservative andmoneyed councils of the nation was of great weight. 

The house that he occupied, of Venetian design, and four stories inheight, bore many architectural marks of distinction, such as thefloriated window, the door with the semipointed arch, and medallionsof colored marble set in the walls. The Senator was a great admirer ofVenice. He had been there often, as he had to Athens and Rome, and hadbrought back many artistic objects representative of the civilizationsand refinements of older days. He was fond, for one thing, of the stern, sculptured heads of the Roman emperors, and the fragments of gods andgoddesses which are the best testimony of the artistic aspirations ofGreece. In the entresol of this house was one of his finest treasures--acarved and floriated base bearing a tapering monolith some four feethigh, crowned by the head of a peculiarly goatish Pan, by the side ofwhich were the problematic remains of a lovely nude nymph--just thelittle feet broken off at the ankles. The base on which the feet ofthe nymph and the monolith stood was ornamented with carved ox-skullsintertwined with roses. In his reception hall were replicas of Caligula, Nero, and other Roman emperors; and on his stair-walls reliefs ofdancing nymphs in procession, and priests bearing offerings of sheep andswine to the sacrificial altars. There was a clock in some corner of thehouse which chimed the quarter, the half, the three-quarters, and thehour in strange, euphonious, and pathetic notes. On the walls of therooms were tapestries of Flemish origin, and in the reception-hall, thelibrary, the living-room, and the drawing-room, richly carved furnitureafter the standards of the Italian Renaissance. The Senator's taste inthe matter of paintings was inadequate, and he mistrusted it; but suchas he had were of distinguished origin and authentic. He cared more forhis curio-cases filled with smaller imported bronzes, Venetian glass, and Chinese jade. He was not a collector of these in any notablesense--merely a lover of a few choice examples. Handsome tiger andleopard skin rugs, the fur of a musk-ox for his divan, and tannedand brown-stained goat and kid skins for his tables, gave a senseof elegance and reserved profusion. In addition the Senator had adining-room done after the Jacobean idea of artistic excellence, anda wine-cellar which the best of the local vintners looked after withextreme care. He was a man who loved to entertain lavishly; and when hisresidence was thrown open for a dinner, a reception, or a ball, the bestof local society was to be found there. 

The conference was in the Senator's library, and he received hiscolleagues with the genial air of one who has much to gain and littleto lose. There were whiskies, wines, cigars on the table, and whileMollenhauer and Simpson exchanged the commonplaces of the day awaitingthe arrival of Butler, they lighted cigars and kept their inmostthoughts to themselves. 

It so happened that upon the previous afternoon Butler hadlearned from Mr. David Pettie, the district attorney, of thesixty-thousand-dollar-check transaction. At the same time the matterhad been brought to Mollenhauer's attention by Stener himself. It wasMollenhauer, not Butler who saw that by taking advantage of Cowperwood'ssituation, he might save the local party from blame, and at the sametime most likely fleece Cowperwood out of his street-railway shareswithout letting Butler or Simpson know anything about it. The thing todo was to terrorize him with a private threat of prosecution. 

Butler was not long in arriving, and apologized for the delay. Concealing his recent grief behind as jaunty an air as possible, hebegan with:

"It's a lively life I'm leadin', what with every bank in the citywantin' to know how their loans are goin' to be taken care of. " He tooka cigar and struck a match. 

"It does look a little threatening, " said Senator Simpson, smiling. "Sitdown. I have just been talking with Avery Stone, of Jay Cooke & Company, and he tells me that the talk in Third Street about Stener's connectionwith this Cowperwood failure is growing very strong, and that thenewspapers are bound to take up the matter shortly, unless something isdone about it. I am sure that the news will also reach Mr. Wheat, ofthe Citizens' Reform Association, very shortly. We ought to decide now, gentlemen, what we propose to do. One thing, I am sure, is to eliminateStener from the ticket as quietly as possible. This really looks to meas if it might become a very serious issue, and we ought to be doingwhat we can now to offset its effect later. "

Mollenhauer pulled a long breath through his cigar, and blew it out ina rolling steel-blue cloud. He studied the tapestry on the opposite wallbut said nothing. 

"There is one thing sure, " continued Senator Simpson, after a time, seeing that no one else spoke, "and that is, if we do not begin aprosecution on our own account within a reasonable time, some one elseis apt to; and that would put rather a bad face on the matter. My ownopinion would be that we wait until it is very plain that prosecution isgoing to be undertaken by some one else--possibly the Municipal ReformAssociation--but that we stand ready to step in and act in such a wayas to make it look as though we had been planning to do it all the time. The thing to do is to gain time; and so I would suggest that it bemade as difficult as possible to get at the treasurer's books. An investigation there, if it begins at all--as I think is verylikely--should be very slow in producing the facts. "

The Senator was not at all for mincing words with his importantconfreres, when it came to vital issues. He preferred, in hisgrandiloquent way, to call a spade a spade. 

"Now that sounds like very good sense to me, " said Butler, sinking alittle lower in his chair for comfort's sake, and concealing histrue mood in regard to all this. "The boys could easily make thatinvestigation last three weeks, I should think. They're slow enough witheverything else, if me memory doesn't fail me. " At the same time he wascogitating as to how to inject the personality of Cowperwood and hisspeedy prosecution without appearing to be neglecting the generalwelfare of the local party too much. 

"Yes, that isn't a bad idea, " said Mollenhauer, solemnly, blowing a ringof smoke, and thinking how to keep Cowperwood's especial offense fromcoming up at this conference and until after he had seen him. 

"We ought to map out our program very carefully, " continued SenatorSimpson, "so that if we are compelled to act we can do so very quickly. I believe myself that this thing is certain to come to an issue withina week, if not sooner, and we have no time to lose. If my advice werefollowed now, I should have the mayor write the treasurer a letterasking for information, and the treasurer write the mayor his answer, and also have the mayor, with the authority of the common council, suspend the treasurer for the time being--I think we have the authorityto do that--or, at least, take over his principal duties but without forthe time being, anyhow, making any of these transactions public--untilwe have to, of course. We ought to be ready with these letters to showto the newspapers at once, in case this action is forced upon us. "

"I could have those letters prepared, if you gentlemen have noobjection, " put in Mollenhauer, quietly, but quickly. 

"Well, that strikes me as sinsible, " said Butler, easily. "It's aboutthe only thing we can do under the circumstances, unless we could findsome one else to blame it on, and I have a suggestion to make in thatdirection. Maybe we're not as helpless as we might be, all thingsconsidered. "

There was a slight gleam of triumph in his eye as he said this, atthe same time that there was a slight shadow of disappointment inMollenhauer's. So Butler knew, and probably Simpson, too. 

"Just what do you mean?" asked the Senator, looking at Butlerinterestedly. He knew nothing of the sixty-thousand-dollar checktransaction. He had not followed the local treasury dealings veryclosely, nor had he talked to either of his confreres since the originalconference between them. "There haven't been any outside parties mixedup with this, have there?" His own shrewd, political mind was working. 

"No-o. I wouldn't call him an outside party, exactly, Senator, " wenton Butler suavely. "It's Cowperwood himself I'm thinkin' of. There'ssomethin' that has come up since I saw you gentlemen last that makes methink that perhaps that young man isn't as innocent as he might be. Itlooks to me as though he was the ringleader in this business, as thoughhe had been leadin' Stener on against his will. I've been lookin' intothe matter on me own account, and as far as I can make out this manStener isn't as much to blame as I thought. From all I can learn, Cowperwood's been threatenin' Stener with one thing and another if hedidn't give him more money, and only the other day he got a big sumon false pretinses, which might make him equally guilty with Stener. There's sixty-thousand dollars of city loan certificates that has beenpaid for that aren't in the sinking-fund. And since the reputation ofthe party's in danger this fall, I don't see that we need to have anyparticular consideration for him. " He paused, strong in the convictionthat he had sent a most dangerous arrow flying in the direction ofCowperwood, as indeed he had. Yet at this moment, both the Senator andMollenhauer were not a little surprised, seeing at their last meetinghe had appeared rather friendly to the young banker, and this recentdiscovery seemed scarcely any occasion for a vicious attitude on hispart. Mollenhauer in particular was surprised, for he had been lookingon Butler's friendship for Cowperwood as a possible stumbling block. 

"Um-m, you don't tell me, " observed Senator Simpson, thoughtfully, stroking his mouth with his pale hand. 

"Yes, I can confirm that, " said Mollenhauer, quietly, seeing his ownlittle private plan of browbeating Cowperwood out of his street-railwayshares going glimmering. "I had a talk with Stener the other day aboutthis very matter, and he told me that Cowperwood had been trying toforce him to give him three hundred thousand dollars more, and thatwhen he refused Cowperwood managed to get sixty thousand dollars furtherwithout his knowledge or consent. "

"How could he do that?" asked Senator Simpson, incredulously. Mollenhauer explained the transaction. 

"Oh, " said the Senator, when Mollenhauer had finished, "that indicatesa rather sharp person, doesn't it? And the certificates are not in thesinking-fund, eh?"

"They're not, " chimed in Butler, with considerable enthusiasm. 

"Well, I must say, " said Simpson, rather relieved in his manner, "thislooks like a rather good thing than not to me. A scapegoat possibly. Weneed something like this. I see no reason under the circumstances fortrying to protect Mr. Cowperwood. We might as well try to make a pointof that, if we have to. The newspapers might just as well talk loudabout that as anything else. They are bound to talk; and if we give themthe right angle, I think that the election might well come and go beforethe matter could be reasonably cleared up, even though Mr. Wheat doesinterfere. I will be glad to undertake to see what can be done with thepapers. "

"Well, that bein' the case, " said Butler, "I don't see that there'sso much more we can do now; but I do think it will be a mistake ifCowperwood isn't punished with the other one. He's equally guiltywith Stener, if not more so, and I for one want to see him get what hedeserves. He belongs in the penitentiary, and that's where he'll go ifI have my say. " Both Mollenhauer and Simpson turned a reserved andinquiring eye on their usually genial associate. What could be thereason for his sudden determination to have Cowperwood punished?Cowperwood, as Mollenhauer and Simpson saw it, and as Butler wouldordinarily have seen it, was well within his human, if not his strictlylegal rights. They did not blame him half as much for trying to do whathe had done as they blamed Stener for letting him do it. But, sinceButler felt as he did, and there was an actual technical crime here, they were perfectly willing that the party should have the advantage ofit, even if Cowperwood went to the penitentiary. 

"You may be right, " said Senator Simpson, cautiously. "You might havethose letters prepared, Henry; and if we have to bring any action atall against anybody before election, it would, perhaps, be advisableto bring it against Cowperwood. Include Stener if you have to but notunless you have to. I leave it to you two, as I am compelled to startfor Pittsburg next Friday; but I know you will not overlook any point. "

The Senator arose. His time was always valuable. Butler was highlygratified by what he had accomplished. He had succeeded in putting thetriumvirate on record against Cowperwood as the first victim, in case ofany public disturbance or demonstration against the party. All that wasnow necessary was for that disturbance to manifest itself; and, fromwhat he could see of local conditions, it was not far off. There was nowthe matter of Cowperwood's disgruntled creditors to look into; and ifby buying in these he should succeed in preventing the financier fromresuming business, he would have him in a very precarious conditionindeed. It was a sad day for Cowperwood, Butler thought--the day he hadfirst tried to lead Aileen astray--and the time was not far off when hecould prove it to him. 

Chapter XXXIII

In the meantime Cowperwood, from what he could see and hear, wasbecoming more and more certain that the politicians would try to makea scapegoat of him, and that shortly. For one thing, Stires had calledonly a few days after he closed his doors and imparted a significant bitof information. Albert was still connected with the city treasury, aswas Stener, and engaged with Sengstack and another personal appointee ofMollenhauer's in going over the treasurer's books and explaining theirfinancial significance. Stires had come to Cowperwood primarily to getadditional advice in regard to the sixty-thousand-dollar check and hispersonal connection with it. Stener, it seemed, was now threatening tohave his chief clerk prosecuted, saying that he was responsible forthe loss of the money and that his bondsmen could be held responsible. Cowperwood had merely laughed and assured Stires that there was nothingto this. 

"Albert, " he had said, smilingly, "I tell you positively, there'snothing in it. You're not responsible for delivering that check to me. I'll tell you what you do, now. Go and consult my lawyer--Steger. Itwon't cost you a cent, and he'll tell you exactly what to do. Now go onback and don't worry any more about it. I am sorry this move of mine hascaused you so much trouble, but it's a hundred to one you couldn't havekept your place with a new city treasurer, anyhow, and if I see anyplace where you can possibly fit in later, I'll let you know. "

Another thing that made Cowperwood pause and consider at this time wasa letter from Aileen, detailing a conversation which had taken place atthe Butler dinner table one evening when Butler, the elder, was notat home. She related how her brother Owen in effect had stated thatthey--the politicians--her father, Mollenhauer, and Simpson, were goingto "get him yet" (meaning Cowperwood), for some criminal financialmanipulation of something--she could not explain what--a checkor something. Aileen was frantic with worry. Could they mean thepenitentiary, she asked in her letter? Her dear lover! Her belovedFrank! Could anything like this really happen to him?

His brow clouded, and he set his teeth with rage when he read herletter. He would have to do something about this--see Mollenhauer orSimpson, or both, and make some offer to the city. He could not promisethem money for the present--only notes--but they might take them. Surelythey could not be intending to make a scapegoat of him over such atrivial and uncertain matter as this check transaction! When there wasthe five hundred thousand advanced by Stener, to say nothing of allthe past shady transactions of former city treasurers! How rotten! Howpolitical, but how real and dangerous. 

But Simpson was out of the city for a period of ten days, andMollenhauer, having in mind the suggestion made by Butler in regard toutilizing Cowperwood's misdeed for the benefit of the party, had alreadymoved as they had planned. The letters were ready and waiting. Indeed, since the conference, the smaller politicians, taking their cue fromthe overlords, had been industriously spreading the story of thesixty-thousand-dollar check, and insisting that the burden of guiltfor the treasury defalcation, if any, lay on the banker. The momentMollenhauer laid eyes on Cowperwood he realized, however, that he hada powerful personality to deal with. Cowperwood gave no evidence offright. He merely stated, in his bland way, that he had been in thehabit of borrowing money from the city treasury at a low rate ofinterest, and that this panic had involved him so that he could notpossibly return it at present. 

"I have heard rumors, Mr. Mollenhauer, " he said, "to the effect thatsome charge is to be brought against me as a partner with Mr. Stenerin this matter; but I am hoping that the city will not do that, and Ithought I might enlist your influence to prevent it. My affairs are notin a bad way at all, if I had a little time to arrange matters. I ammaking all of my creditors an offer of fifty cents on the dollar now, and giving notes at one, two, and three years; but in this matter of thecity treasury loans, if I could come to terms, I would be glad to makeit a hundred cents--only I would want a little more time. Stocks arebound to recover, as you know, and, barring my losses at this time, I will be all right. I realize that the matter has gone pretty faralready. The newspapers are likely to start talking at any time, unless they are stopped by those who can control them. " (He looked atMollenhauer in a complimentary way. ) "But if I could be kept out ofthe general proceedings as much as possible, my standing would not beinjured, and I would have a better chance of getting on my feet. Itwould be better for the city, for then I could certainly pay it what Iowe it. " He smiled his most winsome and engaging smile. And Mollenhauerseeing him for the first time, was not unimpressed. Indeed he looked atthis young financial David with an interested eye. If he could haveseen a way to accept this proposition of Cowperwood's, so that the moneyoffered would have been eventually payable to him, and if Cowperwood hadhad any reasonable prospect of getting on his feet soon, he would haveconsidered carefully what he had to say. For then Cowperwood couldhave assigned his recovered property to him. As it was, there was smalllikelihood of this situation ever being straightened out. The Citizens'Municipal Reform Association, from all he could hear, was already on themove--investigating, or about to, and once they had set their hands tothis, would unquestionably follow it closely to the end. 

"The trouble with this situation, Mr. Cowperwood, " he said, affably, "isthat it has gone so far that it is practically out of my hands. I reallyhave very little to do with it. I don't suppose, though, really, it isthis matter of the five-hundred-thousand-dollar loan that is worryingyou so much, as it is this other matter of the sixty-thousand-dollarcheck you received the other day. Mr. Stener insists that you securedthat illegally, and he is very much wrought up about it. The mayor andthe other city officials know of it now, and they may force some action. I don't know. "

Mollenhauer was obviously not frank in his attitude--a little bitevasive in his sly reference to his official tool, the mayor; andCowperwood saw it. It irritated him greatly, but he was tactful enoughto be quite suave and respectful. 

"I did get a check for sixty thousand dollars, that's true, " hereplied, with apparent frankness, "the day before I assigned. It was forcertificates I had purchased, however, on Mr. Stener's order, and wasdue me. I needed the money, and asked for it. I don't see that there isanything illegal in that. "

"Not if the transaction was completed in all its details, " repliedMollenhauer, blandly. "As I understand it, the certificates were boughtfor the sinking-fund, and they are not there. How do you explain that?"

"An oversight, merely, " replied Cowperwood, innocently, and quite asblandly as Mollenhauer. "They would have been there if I had not beencompelled to assign so unexpectedly. It was not possible for me toattend to everything in person. It has not been our custom to depositthem at once. Mr. Stener will tell you that, if you ask him. "

"You don't say, " replied Mollenhauer. "He did not give me thatimpression. However, they are not there, and I believe that that makessome difference legally. I have no interest in the matter one way or theother, more than that of any other good Republican. I don't see exactlywhat I can do for you. What did you think I could do?"

"I don't believe you can do anything for me, Mr. Mollenhauer, " repliedCowperwood, a little tartly, "unless you are willing to deal quitefrankly with me. I am not a beginner in politics in Philadelphia. I knowsomething about the powers in command. I thought that you could stop anyplan to prosecute me in this matter, and give me time to get on my feetagain. I am not any more criminally responsible for that sixty thousanddollars than I am for the five hundred thousand dollars that I had asloan before it--not as much so. I did not create this panic. I did notset Chicago on fire. Mr. Stener and his friends have been reaping someprofit out of dealing with me. I certainly was entitled to make someeffort to save myself after all these years of service, and I can'tunderstand why I should not receive some courtesy at the hands ofthe present city administration, after I have been so useful to it. Icertainly have kept city loan at par; and as for Mr. Stener's money, hehas never wanted for his interest on that, and more than his interest. "

"Quite so, " replied Mollenhauer, looking Cowperwood in the eye steadilyand estimating the force and accuracy of the man at their real value. "Iunderstand exactly how it has all come about, Mr. Cowperwood. No doubtMr. Stener owes you a debt of gratitude, as does the remainder of thecity administration. I'm not saying what the city administration oughtor ought not do. All I know is that you find yourself wittingly orunwittingly in a dangerous situation, and that public sentiment insome quarters is already very strong against you. I personally haveno feeling one way or the other, and if it were not for the situationitself, which looks to be out of hand, would not be opposed to assistingyou in any reasonable way. But how? The Republican party is in a verybad position, so far as this election is concerned. In a way, howeverinnocently, you have helped to put it there, Mr. Cowperwood. Mr. Butler, for some reason to which I am not a party, seems deeply and personallyincensed. And Mr. Butler is a great power here--" (Cowperwood beganto wonder whether by any chance Butler had indicated the nature ofhis social offense against himself, but he could not bring himself tobelieve that. It was not probable. ) "I sympathize with you greatly, Mr. Cowperwood, but what I suggest is that you first See Mr. Butler and Mr. Simpson. If they agree to any program of aid, I will not be opposed tojoining. But apart from that I do not know exactly what I can do. I amonly one of those who have a slight say in the affairs of Philadelphia. "

At this point, Mollenhauer rather expected Cowperwood to make an offerof his own holdings, but he did not. Instead he said, "I'm very muchobliged to you, Mr. Mollenhauer, for the courtesy of this interview. Ibelieve you would help me if you could. I shall just have to fight itout the best way I can. Good day. "

And he bowed himself out. He saw clearly how hopeless was his quest. 

In the meanwhile, finding that the rumors were growing in volume andthat no one appeared to be willing to take steps to straighten thematter out, Mr. Skelton C. Wheat, President of the Citizens' MunicipalReform Association, was, at last and that by no means against his will, compelled to call together the committee of ten estimable Philadelphiansof which he was chairman, in a local committee-hall on Market Street, and lay the matter of the Cowperwood failure before it. 

"It strikes me, gentlemen, " he announced, "that this is an occasion whenthis organization can render a signal service to the city and the peopleof Philadelphia, and prove the significance and the merit of the titleoriginally selected for it, by making such a thoroughgoing investigationas will bring to light all the facts in this case, and then by standingvigorously behind them insist that such nefarious practices as we areinformed were indulged in in this case shall cease. I know it may proveto be a difficult task. The Republican party and its local and Stateinterests are certain to be against us. Its leaders are unquestionablymost anxious to avoid comment and to have their ticket go throughundisturbed, and they will not contemplate with any equanimity ouropening activity in this matter; but if we persevere, great good willsurely come of it. There is too much dishonesty in public life as it is. There is a standard of right in these matters which cannot permanentlybe ignored, and which must eventually be fulfilled. I leave this matterto your courteous consideration. "

Mr. Wheat sat down, and the body before him immediately took thematter which he proposed under advisement. It was decided to appoint asubcommittee "to investigate" (to quote the statement eventually givento the public) "the peculiar rumors now affecting one of the mostimportant and distinguished offices of our municipal government, " and toreport at the next meeting, which was set for the following evening atnine o'clock. The meeting adjourned, and the following night at ninereassembled, four individuals of very shrewd financial judgmenthaving meantime been about the task assigned them. They drew up a veryelaborate statement, not wholly in accordance with the facts, but asnearly so as could be ascertained in so short a space of time. 

"It appears [read the report, after a preamble which explained whythe committee had been appointed] that it has been the custom of citytreasurers for years, when loans have been authorized by councils, toplace them in the hands of some favorite broker for sale, the brokeraccounting to the treasurer for the moneys received by such sales atshort periods, generally the first of each month. In the presentcase Frank A. Cowperwood has been acting as such broker for the citytreasurer. But even this vicious and unbusiness-like system appears notto have been adhered to in the case of Mr. Cowperwood. The accident ofthe Chicago fire, the consequent depression of stock values, and thesubsequent failure of Mr. Frank A. Cowperwood have so involved matterstemporarily that the committee has not been able to ascertain withaccuracy that regular accounts have been rendered; but from the mannerin which Mr. Cowperwood has had possession of bonds (city loan) forhypothecation, etc. , it would appear that he has been held to noresponsibility in these matters, and that there have always been underhis control several hundred thousand dollars of cash or securitiesbelonging to the city, which he has manipulated for various purposes;but the details of the results of these transactions are not easilyavailable. 

"Some of the operations consisted of hypothecation of large amounts ofthese loans before the certificates were issued, the lender seeing thatthe order for the hypothecated securities was duly made to him on thebooks of the treasurer. Such methods appear to have been occurring fora long time, and it being incredible that the city treasurer couldbe unaware of the nature of the business, there is indication of acomplicity between him and Mr. Cowperwood to benefit by the use of thecity credit, in violation of the law. 

"Furthermore, at the very time these hypothecations were being made, andthe city paying interest upon such loans, the money representing themwas in the hands of the treasurer's broker and bearing no interest tothe city. The payment of municipal warrants was postponed, and they werebeing purchased at a discount in large amounts by Mr. Cowperwood withthe very money that should have been in the city treasury. The bona fideholders of the orders for certificates of loans are now unable to obtainthem, and thus the city's credit is injured to a greater extent thanthe present defalcation, which amounts to over five hundred thousanddollars. An accountant is now at work on the treasurer's books, and afew days should make clear the whole modus operandi. It is hoped thatthe publicity thus obtained will break up such vicious practices. "

There was appended to this report a quotation from the law governing theabuse of a public trust; and the committee went on to say that, unlesssome taxpayer chose to initiate proceedings for the prosecution of thoseconcerned, the committee itself would be called upon to do so, althoughsuch action hardly came within the object for which it was formed. 

This report was immediately given to the papers. Though some sort ofa public announcement had been anticipated by Cowperwood and thepoliticians, this was, nevertheless, a severe blow. Stener wasbeside himself with fear. He broke into a cold sweat when he saw theannouncement which was conservatively headed, "Meeting of the MunicipalReform Association. " All of the papers were so closely identified withthe political and financial powers of the city that they did not dare tocome out openly and say what they thought. The chief facts had alreadybeen in the hands of the various editors and publishers for a week andmore, but word had gone around from Mollenhauer, Simpson, and Butler touse the soft pedal for the present. It was not good for Philadelphia, for local commerce, etc. , to make a row. The fair name of the city wouldbe smirched. It was the old story. 

At once the question was raised as to who was really guilty, the citytreasurer or the broker, or both. How much money had actually been lost?Where had it gone? Who was Frank Algernon Cowperwood, anyway? Why washe not arrested? How did he come to be identified so closely with thefinancial administration of the city? And though the day of what laterwas termed "yellow journalism" had not arrived, and the local paperswere not given to such vital personal comment as followed later, itwas not possible, even bound as they were, hand and foot, by the localpolitical and social magnates, to avoid comment of some sort. Editorialshad to be written. Some solemn, conservative references to the shame anddisgrace which one single individual could bring to a great city and anoble political party had to be ventured upon. 

That desperate scheme to cast the blame on Cowperwood temporarily, whichhad been concocted by Mollenhauer, Butler, and Simpson, to get the odiumof the crime outside the party lines for the time being, was now luggedforth and put in operation. It was interesting and strange to notehow quickly the newspapers, and even the Citizens' Municipal ReformAssociation, adopted the argument that Cowperwood was largely, if notsolely, to blame. Stener had loaned him the money, it is true--had putbond issues in his hands for sale, it is true, but somehow every oneseemed to gain the impression that Cowperwood had desperately misusedthe treasurer. The fact that he had taken a sixty-thousand-dollar checkfor certificates which were not in the sinking-fund was hinted at, though until they could actually confirm this for themselves both thenewspapers and the committee were too fearful of the State libel laws tosay so. 

In due time there were brought forth several noble municipal letters, purporting to be a stern call on the part of the mayor, Mr. JacobBorchardt, on Mr. George W. Stener for an immediate explanation ofhis conduct, and the latter's reply, which were at once given to thenewspapers and the Citizens' Municipal Reform Association. These letterswere enough to show, so the politicians figured, that the Republicanparty was anxious to purge itself of any miscreant within its ranks, andthey also helped to pass the time until after election. 

 OFFICE OF THE MAYOR OF THE CITY OF PHILADELPHIA

 GEORGE W. STENER, ESQ. , October 18, 1871. City Treasurer. 

 DEAR SIR, --Information has been given me that certificates of city loan to a large amount, issued by you for sale on account of the city, and, I presume, after the usual requisition from the mayor of the city, have passed out of your custody, and that the proceeds of the sale of said certificates have not been paid into the city treasury. 

 I have also been informed that a large amount of the city's money has been permitted to pass into the hands of some one or more brokers or bankers doing business on Third Street, and that said brokers or bankers have since met with financial difficulties, whereby, and by reason of the above generally, the interests of the city are likely to be very seriously affected. 

 I have therefore to request that you will promptly advise me of the truth or falsity of these statements, so that such duties as devolve upon me as the chief magistrate of the city, in view of such facts, if they exist, may be intelligently discharged. Yours respectfully, JACOB BORCHARDT, Mayor of Philadelphia. 

 OFFICE OF THE TREASURER OF THE CITY OF PHILADELPHIA

 HON. JACOB BORCHARDT. October 19, 1871. 

 DEAR SIR, --I have to acknowledge the receipt of your communication of the 21st instant, and to express my regret that I cannot at this time give you the information you ask. There is undoubtedly an embarrassment in the city treasury, owing to the delinquency of the broker who for several years past has negotiated the city loans, and I have been, since the discovery of this fact, and still am occupied in endeavoring to avert or lessen the loss with which the city is threatened. I am, very respectfully, GEORGE W. STENER. 

 OFFICE OF THE MAYOR OF THE CITY OF PHILADELPHIA

 GEORGE W. STENER, ESQ. , October 21, 1871. City Treasurer. 

 DEAR SIR--Under the existing circumstances you will consider this as a notice of withdrawal and revocation of any requisition or authority by me for the sale of loan, so far as the same has not been fulfilled. Applications for loans may for the present be made at this office. Very respectfully, JACOB BORCHARDT, Mayor of Philadelphia. 

And did Mr. Jacob Borchardt write the letters to which his namewas attached? He did not. Mr. Abner Sengstack wrote them in Mr. Mollenhauer's office, and Mr. Mollenhauer's comment when he saw them wasthat he thought they would do--that they were very good, in fact. Anddid Mr. George W. Stener, city treasurer of Philadelphia, write thatvery politic reply? He did not. Mr. Stener was in a state of completecollapse, even crying at one time at home in his bathtub. Mr. AbnerSengstack wrote that also, and had Mr. Stener sign it. And Mr. Mollenhauer's comment on that, before it was sent, was that he thoughtit was "all right. " It was a time when all the little rats and mice werescurrying to cover because of the presence of a great, fiery-eyed publiccat somewhere in the dark, and only the older and wiser rats were ableto act. 

Indeed, at this very time and for some days past now, Messrs. Mollenhauer, Butler, and Simpson were, and had been, consideringwith Mr. Pettie, the district attorney, just what could be done aboutCowperwood, if anything, and in order to further emphasize the blame inthat direction, and just what defense, if any, could be made for Stener. Butler, of course, was strong for Cowperwood's prosecution. Pettie didnot see that any defense could be made for Stener, since various recordsof street-car stocks purchased for him were spread upon Cowperwood'sbooks; but for Cowperwood--"Let me see, " he said. They were speculating, first of all, as to whether it might not be good policy to arrestCowperwood, and if necessary try him, since his mere arrest would seemto the general public, at least, positive proof of his greater guilt, to say nothing of the virtuous indignation of the administration, and inconsequence might tend to divert attention from the evil nature of theparty until after election. 

So finally, on the afternoon of October 26, 1871, Edward Strobik, president of the common council of Philadelphia, appeared before themayor, as finally ordered by Mollenhauer, and charged by affidavit thatFrank A. Cowperwood, as broker, employed by the treasurer to sell thebonds of the city, had committed embezzlement and larceny as bailee. Itdid not matter that he charged George W. Stener with embezzlement at thesame time. Cowperwood was the scapegoat they were after. 

Chapter XXXIV

The contrasting pictures presented by Cowperwood and Stener at thistime are well worth a moment's consideration. Stener's face wasgrayish-white, his lips blue. Cowperwood, despite various solemnthoughts concerning a possible period of incarceration which this hueand cry now suggested, and what that meant to his parents, his wifeand children, his business associates, and his friends, was as calm andcollected as one might assume his great mental resources would permithim to be. During all this whirl of disaster he had never once lost hishead or his courage. That thing conscience, which obsesses and ridessome people to destruction, did not trouble him at all. He had noconsciousness of what is currently known as sin. There were just twofaces to the shield of life from the point of view of his peculiarmind-strength and weakness. Right and wrong? He did not know aboutthose. They were bound up in metaphysical abstrusities about which hedid not care to bother. Good and evil? Those were toys of clerics, by which they made money. And as for social favor or social ostracismwhich, on occasion, so quickly followed upon the heels of disaster ofany kind, well, what was social ostracism? Had either he or his parentsbeen of the best society as yet? And since not, and despite this presentmix-up, might not the future hold social restoration and position forhim? It might. Morality and immorality? He never considered them. Butstrength and weakness--oh, yes! If you had strength you could protectyourself always and be something. If you were weak--pass quickly to therear and get out of the range of the guns. He was strong, and he knewit, and somehow he always believed in his star. Something--he couldnot say what--it was the only metaphysics he bothered about--was doingsomething for him. It had always helped him. It made things come outright at times. It put excellent opportunities in his way. Why had hebeen given so fine a mind? Why always favored financially, personally?He had not deserved it--earned it. Accident, perhaps, but somehowthe thought that he would always be protected--these intuitions, the "hunches" to act which he frequently had--could not be so easilyexplained. Life was a dark, insoluble mystery, but whatever it was, strength and weakness were its two constituents. Strength wouldwin--weakness lose. He must rely on swiftness of thought, accuracy, his judgment, and on nothing else. He was really a brilliant picture ofcourage and energy--moving about briskly in a jaunty, dapper way, hismustaches curled, his clothes pressed, his nails manicured, his faceclean-shaven and tinted with health. 

In the meantime, Cowperwood had gone personally to Skelton C. Wheat andtried to explain his side of the situation, alleging that he had done nodifferently from many others before him, but Wheat was dubious. Hedid not see how it was that the sixty thousand dollars' worth ofcertificates were not in the sinking-fund. Cowperwood's explanationof custom did not avail. Nevertheless, Mr. Wheat saw that others inpolitics had been profiting quite as much as Cowperwood in other waysand he advised Cowperwood to turn state's evidence. This, however, hepromptly refused to do--he was no "squealer, " and indicated as much toMr. Wheat, who only smiled wryly. 

Butler, Sr. , was delighted (concerned though he was about party successat the polls), for now he had this villain in the toils and he wouldhave a fine time getting out of this. The incoming district attorney tosucceed David Pettie if the Republican party won would be, as wasnow planned, an appointee of Butler's--a young Irishman who had doneconsiderable legal work for him--one Dennis Shannon. The other two partyleaders had already promised Butler that. Shannon was a smart, athletic, good-looking fellow, all of five feet ten inches in height, sandy-haired, pink-cheeked, blue-eyed, considerable of an orator and afine legal fighter. He was very proud to be in the old man's favor--tobe promised a place on the ticket by him--and would, he said, ifelected, do his bidding to the best of his knowledge and ability. 

There was only one fly in the ointment, so far as some of thepoliticians were concerned, and that was that if Cowperwood wereconvicted, Stener must needs be also. There was no escape in so far asany one could see for the city treasurer. If Cowperwood was guilty ofsecuring by trickery sixty thousand dollars' worth of the city money, Stener was guilty of securing five hundred thousand dollars. Theprison term for this was five years. He might plead not guilty, and bysubmitting as evidence that what he did was due to custom save himselffrom the odious necessity of pleading guilty; but he would be convictednevertheless. No jury could get by the fact in regard to him. In spiteof public opinion, when it came to a trial there might be considerabledoubt in Cowperwood's case. There was none in Stener's. 

The practical manner in which the situation was furthered, afterCowperwood and Stener were formally charged may be quickly noted. Steger, Cowperwood's lawyer, learned privately beforehand thatCowperwood was to be prosecuted. He arranged at once to have hisclient appear before any warrant could be served, and to forestall thenewspaper palaver which would follow it if he had to be searched for. 

The mayor issued a warrant for Cowperwood's arrest, and, in accordancewith Steger's plan, Cowperwood immediately appeared before Borchardt incompany with his lawyer and gave bail in twenty thousand dollars (W. C. Davison, president of the Girard National Bank, being his surety), forhis appearance at the central police station on the following Saturdayfor a hearing. Marcus Oldslaw, a lawyer, had been employed by Strobikas president of the common council, to represent him in prosecuting thecase for the city. The mayor looked at Cowperwood curiously, for he, being comparatively new to the political world of Philadelphia, was notso familiar with him as others were; and Cowperwood returned the lookpleasantly enough. 

"This is a great dumb show, Mr. Mayor, " he observed once to Borchardt, quietly, and the latter replied, with a smile and a kindly eye, that asfar as he was concerned, it was a form of procedure which was absolutelyunavoidable at this time. 

"You know how it is, Mr. Cowperwood, " he observed. The latter smiled. "Ido, indeed, " he said. 

Later there followed several more or less perfunctory appearances in alocal police court, known as the Central Court, where when arraigned hepleaded not guilty, and finally his appearance before the November grandjury, where, owing to the complicated nature of the charge drawn upagainst him by Pettie, he thought it wise to appear. He was properlyindicted by the latter body (Shannon, the newly elected districtattorney, making a demonstration in force), and his trial ordered forDecember 5th before a certain Judge Payderson in Part I of QuarterSessions, which was the local branch of the State courts dealing withcrimes of this character. His indictment did not occur, however, beforethe coming and going of the much-mooted fall election, which resulted, thanks to the clever political manipulations of Mollenhauer and Simpson(ballot-box stuffing and personal violence at the polls not barred), inanother victory, by, however, a greatly reduced majority. The Citizens'Municipal Reform Association, in spite of a resounding defeat at thepolls, which could not have happened except by fraud, continued tofire courageously away at those whom it considered to be the chiefmalefactors. 

Aileen Butler, during all this time, was following the trend ofCowperwood's outward vicissitudes as heralded by the newspapers and thelocal gossip with as much interest and bias and enthusiasm for him asher powerful physical and affectional nature would permit. She was nogreat reasoner where affection entered in, but shrewd enough withoutit; and, although she saw him often and he told her much--as much as hisnatural caution would permit--she yet gathered from the newspapers andprivate conversation, at her own family's table and elsewhere, that, as bad as they said he was, he was not as bad as he might be. One itemonly, clipped from the Philadelphia Public Ledger soon after Cowperwoodhad been publicly accused of embezzlement, comforted and consoled her. She cut it out and carried it in her bosom; for, somehow, it seemed toshow that her adored Frank was far more sinned against than sinning. It was a part of one of those very numerous pronunciamientos or reportsissued by the Citizens' Municipal Reform Association, and it ran:

"The aspects of the case are graver than have yet been allowed to reachthe public. Five hundred thousand dollars of the deficiency arises notfrom city bonds sold and not accounted for, but from loans made by thetreasurer to his broker. The committee is also informed, on what itbelieves to be good authority, that the loans sold by the broker wereaccounted for in the monthly settlements at the lowest prices currentduring the month, and that the difference between this rate and thatactually realized was divided between the treasurer and the broker, thusmaking it to the interest of both parties to 'bear' the market at sometime during the month, so as to obtain a low quotation for settlement. Nevertheless, the committee can only regard the prosecution institutedagainst the broker, Mr. Cowperwood, as an effort to divert publicattention from more guilty parties while those concerned may be able to'fix' matters to suit themselves. "

"There, " thought Aileen, when she read it, "there you have it. "These politicians--her father among them as she gathered after hisconversation with her--were trying to put the blame of their own evildeeds on her Frank. He was not nearly as bad as he was painted. Thereport said so. She gloated over the words "an effort to divert publicattention from more guilty parties. " That was just what her Frankhad been telling her in those happy, private hours when they hadbeen together recently in one place and another, particularly the newrendezvous in South Sixth Street which he had established, since theold one had to be abandoned. He had stroked her rich hair, caressed herbody, and told her it was all a prearranged political scheme to cast theblame as much as possible on him and make it as light as possible forStener and the party generally. He would come out of it all right, hesaid, but he cautioned her not to talk. He did not deny his long andprofitable relations with Stener. He told her exactly how it was. Sheunderstood, or thought she did. Anyhow, her Frank was telling her, andthat was enough. 

As for the two Cowperwood households, so recently and pretentiouslyjoined in success, now so gloomily tied in failure, the life was goingout of them. Frank Algernon was that life. He was the courage and forceof his father: the spirit and opportunity of his brothers, the hope ofhis children, the estate of his wife, the dignity and significanceof the Cowperwood name. All that meant opportunity, force, emolument, dignity, and happiness to those connected with him, he was. And hismarvelous sun was waning apparently to a black eclipse. 

Since the fatal morning, for instance, when Lillian Cowperwood hadreceived that utterly destructive note, like a cannonball rippingthrough her domestic affairs, she had been walking like one in a trance. Each day now for weeks she had been going about her duties placidlyenough to all outward seeming, but inwardly she was running with atroubled tide of thought. She was so utterly unhappy. Her fortieth yearhad come for her at a time when life ought naturally to stand fixed andfirm on a solid base, and here she was about to be torn bodily fromthe domestic soil in which she was growing and blooming, and thrown outindifferently to wither in the blistering noonday sun of circumstance. 

As for Cowperwood, Senior, his situation at his bank and elsewhere wasrapidly nearing a climax. As has been said, he had had tremendousfaith in his son; but he could not help seeing that an error had beencommitted, as he thought, and that Frank was suffering greatly for itnow. He considered, of course, that Frank had been entitled to try tosave himself as he had; but he so regretted that his son should have puthis foot into the trap of any situation which could stir up discussionof the sort that was now being aroused. Frank was wonderfully brilliant. He need never have taken up with the city treasurer or the politiciansto have succeeded marvelously. Local street-railways and speculativepoliticians were his undoing. The old man walked the floor all of thedays, realizing that his sun was setting, that with Frank's failurehe failed, and that this disgrace--these public charges--meant his ownundoing. His hair had grown very gray in but a few weeks, his step slow, his face pallid, his eyes sunken. His rather showy side-whiskers seemednow like flags or ornaments of a better day that was gone. His onlyconsolation through it all was that Frank had actually got out of hisrelationship with the Third National Bank without owing it a singledollar. Still as he knew the directors of that institution could notpossibly tolerate the presence of a man whose son had helped loot thecity treasury, and whose name was now in the public prints in thisconnection. Besides, Cowperwood, Sr. , was too old. He ought to retire. 

The crisis for him therefore came on the day when Frank was arrestedon the embezzlement charge. The old man, through Frank, who had it fromSteger, knew it was coming, still had the courage to go to the bank butit was like struggling under the weight of a heavy stone to do it. Butbefore going, and after a sleepless night, he wrote his resignation toFrewen Kasson, the chairman of the board of directors, in order thathe should be prepared to hand it to him, at once. Kasson, a stocky, well-built, magnetic man of fifty, breathed an inward sigh of relief atthe sight of it. 

"I know it's hard, Mr. Cowperwood, " he said, sympathetically. "We--andI can speak for the other members of the board--we feel keenly theunfortunate nature of your position. We know exactly how it is that yourson has become involved in this matter. He is not the only banker whohas been involved in the city's affairs. By no means. It is an oldsystem. We appreciate, all of us, keenly, the services you have renderedthis institution during the past thirty-five years. If there were anypossible way in which we could help to tide you over the difficulties atthis time, we would be glad to do so, but as a banker yourself you mustrealize just how impossible that would be. Everything is in a turmoil. If things were settled--if we knew how soon this would blow over--" Hepaused, for he felt that he could not go on and say that he or the bankwas sorry to be forced to lose Mr. Cowperwood in this way at present. Mr. Cowperwood himself would have to speak. 

During all this Cowperwood, Sr. , had been doing his best to pull himselftogether in order to be able to speak at all. He had gotten out alarge white linen handkerchief and blown his nose, and had straightenedhimself in his chair, and laid his hands rather peacefully on his desk. Still he was intensely wrought up. 

"I can't stand this!" he suddenly exclaimed. "I wish you would leave mealone now. "

Kasson, very carefully dressed and manicured, arose and walked out ofthe room for a few moments. He appreciated keenly the intensity of thestrain he had just witnessed. The moment the door was closed Cowperwoodput his head in his hands and shook convulsively. "I never thought I'dcome to this, " he muttered. "I never thought it. " Then he wiped away hissalty hot tears, and went to the window to look out and to think of whatelse to do from now on. 

Chapter XXXV

As time went on Butler grew more and more puzzled and restive as to hisduty in regard to his daughter. He was sure by her furtive manner andher apparent desire to avoid him, that she was still in touch withCowperwood in some way, and that this would bring about a socialdisaster of some kind. He thought once of going to Mrs. Cowperwood andhaving her bring pressure to bear on her husband, but afterwards hedecided that that would not do. He was not really positive as yet thatAileen was secretly meeting Cowperwood, and, besides, Mrs. Cowperwoodmight not know of her husband's duplicity. He thought also of going toCowperwood personally and threatening him, but that would be a severemeasure, and again, as in the other case, he lacked proof. He hesitatedto appeal to a detective agency, and he did not care to take the othermembers of the family into his confidence. He did go out and scan theneighborhood of 931 North Tenth Street once, looking at the house;but that helped him little. The place was for rent, Cowperwood havingalready abandoned his connection with it. 

Finally he hit upon the plan of having Aileen invited to go somewheresome distance off--Boston or New Orleans, where a sister of his wifelived. It was a delicate matter to engineer, and in such matters he wasnot exactly the soul of tact; but he undertook it. He wrote personallyto his wife's sister at New Orleans, and asked her if she would, withoutindicating in any way that she had heard from him, write his wife andask if she would not permit Aileen to come and visit her, writing Aileenan invitation at the same time; but he tore the letter up. A littlelater he learned accidentally that Mrs. Mollenhauer and her threedaughters, Caroline, Felicia, and Alta, were going to Europe early inDecember to visit Paris, the Riviera, and Rome; and he decided to askMollenhauer to persuade his wife to invite Norah and Aileen, or Aileenonly, to go along, giving as an excuse that his own wife would not leavehim, and that the girls ought to go. It would be a fine way of disposingof Aileen for the present. The party was to be gone six months. Mollenhauer was glad to do so, of course. The two families were fairlyintimate. Mrs. Mollenhauer was willing--delighted from a politic pointof view--and the invitation was extended. Norah was overjoyed. Shewanted to see something of Europe, and had always been hoping for somesuch opportunity. Aileen was pleased from the point of view that Mrs. Mollenhauer should invite her. Years before she would have accepted ina flash. But now she felt that it only came as a puzzling interruption, one more of the minor difficulties that were tending to interrupt herrelations with Cowperwood. She immediately threw cold water on theproposition, which was made one evening at dinner by Mrs. Butler, whodid not know of her husband's share in the matter, but had received acall that afternoon from Mrs. Mollenhauer, when the invitation had beenextended. 

"She's very anxious to have you two come along, if your father don'tmind, " volunteered the mother, "and I should think ye'd have a finetime. They're going to Paris and the Riveera. "

"Oh, fine!" exclaimed Norah. "I've always wanted to go to Paris. Haven'tyou, Ai? Oh, wouldn't that be fine?"

"I don't know that I want to go, " replied Aileen. She did not care tocompromise herself by showing any interest at the start. "It's comingon winter, and I haven't any clothes. I'd rather wait and go some othertime. "

"Oh, Aileen Butler!" exclaimed Norah. "How you talk! I've heard you saya dozen times you'd like to go abroad some winter. Now when the chancecomes--besides you can get your clothes made over there. "

"Couldn't you get somethin' over there?" inquired Mrs. Butler. "Besides, you've got two or three weeks here yet. "

"They wouldn't want a man around as a sort of guide and adviser, wouldthey, mother?" put in Callum. 

"I might offer my services in that capacity myself, " observed Owen, reservedly. 

"I'm sure I don't know, " returned Mrs. Butler, smiling, and at the sametime chewing a lusty mouthful. "You'll have to ast 'em, my sons. "

Aileen still persisted. She did not want to go. It was too sudden. Itwas this. It was that. Just then old Butler came in and took his seatat the head of the table. Knowing all about it, he was most anxious toappear not to. 

"You wouldn't object, Edward, would you?" queried his wife, explainingthe proposition in general. 

"Object!" he echoed, with a well simulated but rough attempt at gayety. "A fine thing I'd be doing for meself--objectin'. I'd be glad if I couldget shut of the whole pack of ye for a time. "

"What talk ye have!" said his wife. "A fine mess you'd make of it livin'alone. "

"I'd not be alone, belave me, " replied Butler. "There's many a place I'dbe welcome in this town--no thanks to ye. "

"And there's many a place ye wouldn't have been if it hadn't been forme. I'm tellin' ye that, " retorted Mrs. Butler, genially. 

"And that's not stretchin' the troot much, aither, " he answered, fondly. 

Aileen was adamant. No amount of argument both on the part of Norah andher mother had any effect whatever. Butler witnessed the failure of hisplan with considerable dissatisfaction, but he was not through. When hewas finally convinced that there was no hope of persuading her to acceptthe Mollenhauer proposition, he decided, after a while, to employ adetective. 

At that time, the reputation of William A. Pinkerton, of detective fame, and of his agency was great. The man had come up from poverty through aseries of vicissitudes to a high standing in his peculiar and, to many, distasteful profession; but to any one in need of such in themselvescalamitous services, his very famous and decidedly patriotic connectionwith the Civil War and Abraham Lincoln was a recommendation. He, orrather his service, had guarded the latter all his stormy incumbencyat the executive mansion. There were offices for the management of thecompany's business in Philadelphia, Washington, and New York, to saynothing of other places. Butler was familiar with the Philadelphia sign, but did not care to go to the office there. He decided, once his mindwas made up on this score, that he would go over to New York, where hewas told the principal offices were. 

He made the simple excuse one day of business, which was common enoughin his case, and journeyed to New York--nearly five hours away asthe trains ran then--arriving at two o'clock. At the offices on lowerBroadway, he asked to see the manager, whom he found to be a large, gross-featured, heavy-bodied man of fifty, gray-eyed, gray-haired, puffily outlined as to countenance, but keen and shrewd, and with short, fat-fingered hands, which drummed idly on his desk as he talked. Hewas dressed in a suit of dark-brown wool cloth, which struck Butler aspeculiarly showy, and wore a large horseshoe diamond pin. The old manhimself invariably wore conservative gray. 

"How do you do?" said Butler, when a boy ushered him into the presenceof this worthy, whose name was Martinson--Gilbert Martinson, of Americanand Irish extraction. The latter nodded and looked at Butler shrewdly, recognizing him at once as a man of force and probably of position. Hetherefore rose and offered him a chair. 

"Sit down, " he said, studying the old Irishman from under thick, bushyeyebrows. "What can I do for you?"

"You're the manager, are you?" asked Butler, solemnly, eyeing the manwith a shrewd, inquiring eye. 

"Yes, sir, " replied Martinson, simply. "That's my position here. "

"This Mr. Pinkerton that runs this agency--he wouldn't be about thisplace, now, would he?" asked Butler, carefully. "I'd like to talk to himpersonally, if I might, meaning no offense to you. "

"Mr. Pinkerton is in Chicago at present, " replied Mr. Martinson. "Idon't expect him back for a week or ten days. You can talk to me, though, with the same confidence that you could to him. I'm theresponsible head here. However, you're the best judge of that. "

Butler debated with himself in silence for a few moments, estimating theman before him. "Are you a family man yourself?" he asked, oddly. 

"Yes, sir, I'm married, " replied Martinson, solemnly. "I have a wife andtwo children. "

Martinson, from long experience conceived that this must be a matterof family misconduct--a son, daughter, wife. Such cases were notinfrequent. 

"I thought I would like to talk to Mr. Pinkerton himself, but if you'rethe responsible head--" Butler paused. 

"I am, " replied Martinson. "You can talk to me with the same freedomthat you could to Mr. Pinkerton. Won't you come into my private office?We can talk more at ease in there. "

He led the way into an adjoining room which had two windows looking downinto Broadway; an oblong table, heavy, brown, smoothly polished; fourleather-backed chairs; and some pictures of the Civil War battles inwhich the North had been victorious. Butler followed doubtfully. Hehated very much to take any one into his confidence in regard to Aileen. He was not sure that he would, even now. He wanted to "look these fellysover, " as he said in his mind. He would decide then what he wanted todo. He went to one of the windows and looked down into the street, wherethere was a perfect swirl of omnibuses and vehicles of all sorts. Mr. Martinson quietly closed the door. 

"Now then, if there's anything I can do for you, " Mr. Martinson paused. He thought by this little trick to elicit Buder's real name--it often"worked"--but in this instance the name was not forthcoming. Butler wastoo shrewd. 

"I'm not so sure that I want to go into this, " said the old mansolemnly. "Certainly not if there's any risk of the thing not beinghandled in the right way. There's somethin' I want to find outabout--somethin' that I ought to know; but it's a very private matterwith me, and--" He paused to think and conjecture, looking at Mr. Martinson the while. The latter understood his peculiar state of mind. He had seen many such cases. 

"Let me say right here, to begin with, Mr. --"

"Scanlon, " interpolated Butler, easily; "that's as good a name as any ifyou want to use one. I'm keepin' me own to meself for the present. "

"Scanlon, " continued Martinson, easily. "I really don't care whetherit's your right name or not. I was just going to say that it might notbe necessary to have your right name under any circumstances--it alldepends upon what you want to know. But, so far as your private affairsare concerned, they are as safe with us, as if you had never told themto any one. Our business is built upon confidence, and we never betrayit. We wouldn't dare. We have men and women who have been in our employfor over thirty years, and we never retire any one except for cause, andwe don't pick people who are likely to need to be retired for cause. Mr. Pinkerton is a good judge of men. There are others here who considerthat they are. We handle over ten thousand separate cases in all partsof the United States every year. We work on a case only so long as weare wanted. We try to find out only such things as our customers want. We do not pry unnecessarily into anybody's affairs. If we decide that wecannot find out what you want to know, we are the first to say so. Manycases are rejected right here in this office before we ever begin. Yoursmight be such a one. We don't want cases merely for the sake of havingthem, and we are frank to say so. Some matters that involve publicpolicy, or some form of small persecution, we don't touch at all--wewon't be a party to them. You can see how that is. You look to me tobe a man of the world. I hope I am one. Does it strike you that anorganization like ours would be likely to betray any one's confidence?"He paused and looked at Butler for confirmation of what he had justsaid. 

"It wouldn't seem likely, " said the latter; "that's the truth. It's notaisy to bring your private affairs into the light of day, though, " addedthe old man, sadly. 

They both rested. 

"Well, " said Butler, finally, "you look to me to be all right, and I'dlike some advice. Mind ye, I'm willing to pay for it well enough; and itisn't anything that'll be very hard to find out. I want to know whethera certain man where I live is goin' with a certain woman, and where. Youcould find that out aisy enough, I belave--couldn't you?"

"Nothing easier, " replied Martinson. "We are doing it all the time. Letme see if I can help you just a moment, Mr. Scanlon, in order to make iteasier for you. It is very plain to me that you don't care to tell anymore than you can help, and we don't care to have you tell any morethan we absolutely need. We will have to have the name of the city, ofcourse, and the name of either the man or the woman; but not necessarilyboth of them, unless you want to help us in that way. Sometimes if yougive us the name of one party--say the man, for illustration--and thedescription of the woman--an accurate one--or a photograph, we can tellyou after a little while exactly what you want to know. Of course, it'salways better if we have full information. You suit yourself about that. Tell me as much or as little as you please, and I'll guarantee thatwe will do our best to serve you, and that you will be satisfiedafterward. "

He smiled genially. 

"Well, that bein' the case, " said Butler, finally taking the leap, withmany mental reservations, however, "I'll be plain with you. My name'snot Scanlon. It's Butler. I live in Philadelphy. There's a man there, abanker by the name of Cowperwood--Frank A. Cowperwood--"

"Wait a moment, " said Martinson, drawing an ample pad out of his pocketand producing a lead-pencil; "I want to get that. How do you spell it?"

Butler told him. 

"Yes; now go on. "

"He has a place in Third Street--Frank A. Cowperwood--any one can showyou where it is. He's just failed there recently. "

"Oh, that's the man, " interpolated Martinson. "I've heard of him. He'smixed up in some city embezzlement case over there. I suppose the reasonyou didn't go to our Philadelphia office is because you didn't want ourlocal men over there to know anything about it. Isn't that it?"

"That's the man, and that's the reason, " said Butler. "I don't care tohave anything of this known in Philadelphy. That's why I'm here. Thisman has a house on Girard Avenue--Nineteen-thirty-seven. You can findthat out, too, when you get over there. "

"Yes, " agreed Mr. Martinson. 

"Well, it's him that I want to know about--him--and a certain woman, or girl, rather. " The old man paused and winced at this necessity ofintroducing Aileen into the case. He could scarcely think of it--he wasso fond of her. He had been so proud of Aileen. A dark, smoldering rageburned in his heart against Cowperwood. 

"A relative of yours--possibly, I suppose, " remarked Martinson, tactfully. "You needn't tell me any more--just give me a description ifyou wish. We may be able to work from that. " He saw quite clearly what afine old citizen in his way he was dealing with here, and also that theman was greatly troubled. Butler's heavy, meditative face showed it. "You can be quite frank with me, Mr. Butler, " he added; "I think Iunderstand. We only want such information as we must have to help you, nothing more. "

"Yes, " said the old man, dourly. "She is a relative. She's me daughter, in fact. You look to me like a sensible, honest man. I'm her father, andI wouldn't do anything for the world to harm her. It's tryin' to saveher I am. It's him I want. " He suddenly closed one big fist forcefully. 

Martinson, who had two daughters of his own, observed the suggestivemovement. 

"I understand how you feel, Mr. Butler, " he observed. "I am a fathermyself. We'll do all we can for you. If you can give me an accuratedescription of her, or let one of my men see her at your house oroffice, accidentally, of course, I think we can tell you in no timeat all if they are meeting with any regularity. That's all you want toknow, is it--just that?"

"That's all, " said Butler, solemnly. 

"Well, that oughtn't to take any time at all, Mr. Butler--three or fourdays possibly, if we have any luck--a week, ten days, two weeks. Itdepends on how long you want us to shadow him in case there is noevidence the first few days. "

"I want to know, however long it takes, " replied Butler, bitterly. "Iwant to know, if it takes a month or two months or three to find out. Iwant to know. " The old man got up as he said this, very positive, veryrugged. "And don't send me men that haven't sinse--lots of it, plase. Iwant men that are fathers, if you've got 'em--and that have sinse enoughto hold their tongues--not b'ys. "

"I understand, Mr. Butler, " Martinson replied. "Depend on it, you'llhave the best we have, and you can trust them. They'll be discreet. Youcan depend on that. The way I'll do will be to assign just one man tothe case at first, some one you can see for yourself whether you like ornot. I'll not tell him anything. You can talk to him. If you like him, tell him, and he'll do the rest. Then, if he needs any more help, he canget it. What is your address?"

Butler gave it to him. 

"And there'll be no talk about this?"

"None whatever--I assure you. "

"And when'll he be comin' along?"

"To-morrow, if you wish. I have a man I could send to-night. He isn'there now or I'd have him talk with you. I'll talk to him, though, andmake everything clear. You needn't worry about anything. Your daughter'sreputation will be safe in his hands. "

"Thank you kindly, " commented Butler, softening the least bit in agingerly way. "I'm much obliged to you. I'll take it as a great favor, and pay you well. "

"Never mind about that, Mr. Butler, " replied Martinson. "You're welcometo anything this concern can do for you at its ordinary rates. "

He showed Butler to the door, and the old man went out. He was feelingvery depressed over this--very shabby. To think he should have to putdetectives on the track of his Aileen, his daughter!

Chapter XXXVI

The very next day there called at Butler's office a long, preternaturally solemn man of noticeable height and angularity, dark-haired, dark-eyed, sallow, with a face that was long and leathery, and particularly hawk-like, who talked with Butler for over an hourand then departed. That evening he came to the Butler house arounddinner-time, and, being shown into Butler's room, was given a look atAileen by a ruse. Butler sent for her, standing in the doorway justfar enough to one side to yield a good view of her. The detective stoodbehind one of the heavy curtains which had already been put up for thewinter, pretending to look out into the street. 

"Did any one drive Sissy this mornin'?" asked Butler of Aileen, inquiring after a favorite family horse. Butler's plan, in case thedetective was seen, was to give the impression that he was a horsemanwho had come either to buy or to sell. His name was Jonas Alderson, andbe looked sufficiently like a horsetrader to be one. 

"I don't think so, father, " replied Aileen. "I didn't. I'll find out. "

"Never mind. What I want to know is did you intend using her to-morrow?"

"No, not if you want her. Jerry suits me just as well. "

"Very well, then. Leave her in the stable. " Butler quietly closed thedoor. Aileen concluded at once that it was a horse conference. She knewhe would not dispose of any horse in which she was interested withoutfirst consulting her, and so she thought no more about it. 

After she was gone Alderson stepped out and declared that he wassatisfied. "That's all I need to know, " he said. "I'll let you know in afew days if I find out anything. "

He departed, and within thirty-six hours the house and officeof Cowperwood, the house of Butler, the office of Harper Steger, Cowperwood's lawyer, and Cowperwood and Aileen separately and personallywere under complete surveillance. It took six men to do it at first, andeventually a seventh, when the second meeting-place, which was locatedin South Sixth Street, was discovered. All the detectives were from NewYork. In a week all was known to Alderson. It bad been agreed betweenhim and Butler that if Aileen and Cowperwood were discovered to have anyparticular rendezvous Butler was to be notified some time when she wasthere, so that he might go immediately and confront her in person, ifhe wished. He did not intend to kill Cowperwood--and Alderson would haveseen to it that he did not in his presence at least, but he would givehim a good tongue-lashing, fell him to the floor, in all likelihood, and march Aileen away. There would be no more lying on her part as towhether she was or was not going with Cowperwood. She would not be ableto say after that what she would or would not do. Butler would lay downthe law to her. She would reform, or he would send her to a reformatory. Think of her influence on her sister, or on any good girl--knowing whatshe knew, or doing what she was doing! She would go to Europe afterthis, or any place he chose to send her. 

In working out his plan of action it was necessary for Butler totake Alderson into his confidence and the detective made plain hisdetermination to safeguard Cowperwood's person. 

"We couldn't allow you to strike any blows or do any violence, " Aldersontold Butler, when they first talked about it. "It's against the rules. You can go in there on a search-warrant, if we have to have one. Ican get that for you without anybody's knowing anything about yourconnection with the case. We can say it's for a girl from New York. Butyou'll have to go in in the presence of my men. They won't permit anytrouble. You can get your daughter all right--we'll bring her away, andhim, too, if you say so; but you'll have to make some charge againsthim, if we do. Then there's the danger of the neighbors seeing. Youcan't always guarantee you won't collect a crowd that way. " Butler hadmany misgivings about the matter. It was fraught with great danger ofpublicity. Still he wanted to know. He wanted to terrify Aileen if hecould--to reform her drastically. 

Within a week Alderson learned that Aileen and Cowperwood were visitingan apparently private residence, which was anything but that. The houseon South Sixth Street was one of assignation purely; but in its way itwas superior to the average establishment of its kind--of red brick, white-stone trimmings, four stories high, and all the rooms, someeighteen in number, furnished in a showy but cleanly way. It's patronagewas highly exclusive, only those being admitted who were known to themistress, having been introduced by others. This guaranteed that privacywhich the illicit affairs of this world so greatly required. The merephrase, "I have an appointment, " was sufficient, where either ofthe parties was known, to cause them to be shown to a private suite. Cowperwood had known of the place from previous experiences, and whenit became necessary to abandon the North Tenth Street house, he haddirected Aileen to meet him here. 

The matter of entering a place of this kind and trying to find anyone was, as Alderson informed Butler on hearing of its character, exceedingly difficult. It involved the right of search, which wasdifficult to get. To enter by sheer force was easy enough in mostinstances where the business conducted was in contradistinction to themoral sentiment of the community; but sometimes one encountered violentopposition from the tenants themselves. It might be so in this case. Theonly sure way of avoiding such opposition would be to take the womanwho ran the place into one's confidence, and by paying her sufficientlyinsure silence. "But I do not advise that in this instance, " Aldersonhad told Butler, "for I believe this woman is particularly friendlyto your man. It might be better, in spite of the risk, to take it bysurprise. " To do that, he explained, it would be necessary to have atleast three men in addition to the leader--perhaps four, who, once oneman had been able to make his entrance into the hallway, on the doorbeing opened in response to a ring, would appear quickly and enter withand sustain him. Quickness of search was the next thing--the promptopening of all doors. The servants, if any, would have to be overpoweredand silenced in some way. Money sometimes did this; force accomplishedit at other times. Then one of the detectives simulating a servantcould tap gently at the different doors--Butler and the others standingby--and in case a face appeared identify it or not, as the case mightbe. If the door was not opened and the room was not empty, it couldeventually be forced. The house was one of a solid block, so that therewas no chance of escape save by the front and rear doors, which wereto be safe-guarded. It was a daringly conceived scheme. In spite of allthis, secrecy in the matter of removing Aileen was to be preserved. 

When Butler heard of this he was nervous about the whole terribleprocedure. He thought once that without going to the house he wouldmerely talk to his daughter declaring that he knew and that she couldnot possibly deny it. He would then give her her choice between goingto Europe or going to a reformatory. But a sense of the raw brutality ofAileen's disposition, and something essentially coarse in himself, madehim eventually adopt the other method. He ordered Alderson to perfecthis plan, and once he found Aileen or Cowperwood entering the house toinform him quickly. He would then drive there, and with the assistanceof these men confront her. 

It was a foolish scheme, a brutalizing thing to do, both from the pointof view of affection and any corrective theory he might have had. Nogood ever springs from violence. But Butler did not see that. He wantedto frighten Aileen, to bring her by shock to a realization of theenormity of the offense she was committing. He waited fully a week afterhis word had been given; and then, one afternoon, when his nerves wereworn almost thin from fretting, the climax came. Cowperwood had alreadybeen indicted, and was now awaiting trial. Aileen had been bringing himnews, from time to time, of just how she thought her father was feelingtoward him. She did not get this evidence direct from Butler, ofcourse--he was too secretive, in so far as she was concerned, to lether know how relentlessly he was engineering Cowperwood's finaldownfall--but from odd bits confided to Owen, who confided them toCallum, who in turn, innocently enough, confided them to Aileen. Forone thing, she had learned in this way of the new district attorneyelect--his probable attitude--for he was a constant caller at the Butlerhouse or office. Owen had told Callum that he thought Shannon was goingto do his best to send Cowperwood "up"--that the old man thought hedeserved it. 

In the next place she had learned that her father did not wantCowperwood to resume business--did not feel he deserved to be allowedto. "It would be a God's blessing if the community were shut of him, "he had said to Owen one morning, apropos of a notice in the papers ofCowperwood's legal struggles; and Owen had asked Callum why he thoughtthe old man was so bitter. The two sons could not understand it. Cowperwood heard all this from her, and more--bits about JudgePayderson, the judge who was to try him, who was a friend ofButler's--also about the fact that Stener might be sent up for the fullterm of his crime, but that he would be pardoned soon afterward. 

Apparently Cowperwood was not very much frightened. He told her thathe had powerful financial friends who would appeal to the governor topardon him in case he was convicted; and, anyhow, that he did not thinkthat the evidence was strong enough to convict him. He was merely apolitical scapegoat through public clamor and her father's influence;since the latter's receipt of the letter about them he had been thevictim of Butler's enmity, and nothing more. "If it weren't for yourfather, honey, " he declared, "I could have this indictment quashed inno time. Neither Mollenhauer nor Simpson has anything against mepersonally, I am sure. They want me to get out of the street-railwaybusiness here in Philadelphia, and, of course, they wanted to makethings look better for Stener at first; but depend upon it, if yourfather hadn't been against me they wouldn't have gone to any such lengthin making me the victim. Your father has this fellow Shannon and theseminor politicians just where he wants them, too. That's where thetrouble lies. They have to go on. "

"Oh, I know, " replied Aileen. "It's me, just me, that's all. Ifit weren't for me and what he suspects he'd help you in a minute. Sometimes, you know, I think I've been very bad for you. I don't knowwhat I ought to do. If I thought it would help you any I'd not see youany more for a while, though I don't see what good that would do now. Oh, I love you, love you, Frank! I would do anything for you. I don'tcare what people think or say. I love you. "

"Oh, you just think you do, " he replied, jestingly. "You'll get over it. There are others. "

"Others!" echoed Aileen, resentfully and contemptuously. "After youthere aren't any others. I just want one man, my Frank. If you everdesert me, I'll go to hell. You'll see. "

"Don't talk like that, Aileen, " he replied, almost irritated. "I don'tlike to hear you. You wouldn't do anything of the sort. I love you. Youknow I'm not going to desert you. It would pay you to desert me justnow. "

"Oh, how you talk!" she exclaimed. "Desert you! It's likely, isn't it?But if ever you desert me, I'll do just what I say. I swear it. "

"Don't talk like that. Don't talk nonsense. "

"I swear it. I swear by my love. I swear by your success--my ownhappiness. I'll do just what I say. I'll go to hell. "

Cowperwood got up. He was a little afraid now of this deep-seatedpassion he had aroused. It was dangerous. He could not tell where itwould lead. 

It was a cheerless afternoon in November, when Alderson, duly informedof the presence of Aileen and Cowperwood in the South Sixth Streethouse by the detective on guard drove rapidly up to Butler's office andinvited him to come with him. Yet even now Butler could scarcely believethat he was to find his daughter there. The shame of it. The horror. What would he say to her? How reproach her? What would he do toCowperwood? His large hands shook as he thought. They drove rapidlyto within a few doors of the place, where a second detective on guardacross the street approached. Butler and Alderson descended from thevehicle, and together they approached the door. It was now almostfour-thirty in the afternoon. In a room within the house, Cowperwood, his coat and vest off, was listening to Aileen's account of hertroubles. 

The room in which they were sitting at the time was typical of therather commonplace idea of luxury which then prevailed. Most of the"sets" of furniture put on the market for general sale by the furniturecompanies were, when they approached in any way the correct idea ofluxury, imitations of one of the Louis periods. The curtains were alwaysheavy, frequently brocaded, and not infrequently red. The carpets wererichly flowered in high colors with a thick, velvet nap. The furniture, of whatever wood it might be made, was almost invariably heavy, floriated, and cumbersome. This room contained a heavily constructedbed of walnut, with washstand, bureau, and wardrobe to match. A large, square mirror in a gold frame was hung over the washstand. Some poorengravings of landscapes and several nude figures were hung ingold frames on the wall. The gilt-framed chairs were upholstered inpink-and-white-flowered brocade, with polished brass tacks. The carpetwas of thick Brussels, pale cream and pink in hue, with large bluejardinieres containing flowers woven in as ornaments. The general effectwas light, rich, and a little stuffy. 

"You know I get desperately frightened, sometimes, " said Aileen. "Fathermight be watching us, you know. I've often wondered what I'd do if hecaught us. I couldn't lie out of this, could I?"

"You certainly couldn't, " said Cowperwood, who never failed to respondto the incitement of her charms. She had such lovely smooth arms, afull, luxuriously tapering throat and neck; her golden-red hair floatedlike an aureole about her head, and her large eyes sparkled. Thewondrous vigor of a full womanhood was hers--errant, ill-balanced, romantic, but exquisite, "but you might as well not cross that bridgeuntil you come to it, " he continued. "I myself have been thinking thatwe had better not go on with this for the present. That letter ought tohave been enough to stop us for the time. "

He came over to where she stood by the dressing-table, adjusting herhair. 

"You're such a pretty minx, " he said. He slipped his arm about herand kissed her pretty mouth. "Nothing sweeter than you this side ofParadise, " he whispered in her ear. 

While this was enacting, Butler and the extra detective had stepped outof sight, to one side of the front door of the house, while Alderson, taking the lead, rang the bell. A negro servant appeared. 

"Is Mrs. Davis in?" he asked, genially, using the name of the woman incontrol. "I'd like to see her. "

"Just come in, " said the maid, unsuspectingly, and indicated areception-room on the right. Alderson took off his soft, wide-brimmedhat and entered. When the maid went up-stairs he immediately returned tothe door and let in Butler and two detectives. The four stepped into thereception-room unseen. In a few moments the "madam" as the current wordcharacterized this type of woman, appeared. She was tall, fair, rugged, and not at all unpleasant to look upon. She had light-blue eyes and agenial smile. Long contact with the police and the brutalities of sex inher early life had made her wary, a little afraid of how the world woulduse her. This particular method of making a living being illicit, andshe having no other practical knowledge at her command, she was asanxious to get along peacefully with the police and the public generallyas any struggling tradesman in any walk of life might have been. She hadon a loose, blue-flowered peignoir, or dressing-gown, open at the front, tied with blue ribbons and showing a little of her expensive underwearbeneath. A large opal ring graced her left middle finger, and turquoisesof vivid blue were pendent from her ears. She wore yellow silk slipperswith bronze buckles; and altogether her appearance was not out ofkeeping with the character of the reception-room itself, which was acomposite of gold-flowered wall-paper, blue and cream-colored Brusselscarpet, heavily gold-framed engravings of reclining nudes, and agilt-framed pier-glass, which rose from the floor to the ceiling. Needless to say, Butler was shocked to the soul of him by thissuggestive atmosphere which was supposed to include his daughter in itsdestructive reaches. 

Alderson motioned one of his detectives to get behind the woman--betweenher and the door--which he did. 

"Sorry to trouble you, Mrs. Davis, " he said, "but we are looking for acouple who are in your house here. We're after a runaway girl. We don'twant to make any disturbance--merely to get her and take her away. " Mrs. Davis paled and opened her mouth. "Now don't make any noise or try toscream, or we'll have to stop you. My men are all around the house. Nobody can get out. Do you know anybody by the name of Cowperwood?"

Mrs. Davis, fortunately from one point of view, was not of aparticularly nervous nor yet contentious type. She was more or lessphilosophic. She was not in touch with the police here in Philadelphia, hence subject to exposure. What good would it do to cry out? shethought. The place was surrounded. There was no one in the house at thetime to save Cowperwood and Aileen. She did not know Cowperwood by hisname, nor Aileen by hers. They were a Mr. And Mrs. Montague to her. 

"I don't know anybody by that name, " she replied nervously. 

"Isn't there a girl here with red hair?" asked one of Alderson'sassistants. "And a man with a gray suit and a light-brown mustache? Theycame in here half an hour ago. You remember them, don't you?"

"There's just one couple in the house, but I'm not sure whether they'rethe ones you want. I'll ask them to come down if you wish. Oh, I wishyou wouldn't make any disturbance. This is terrible. "

"We'll not make any disturbance, " replied Alderson, "if you don't. Justyou be quiet. We merely want to see the girl and take her away. Now, youstay where you are. What room are they in?"

"In the second one in the rear up-stairs. Won't you let me go, though?It will be so much better. I'll just tap and ask them to come out. "

"No. We'll tend to that. You stay where you are. You're not going to getinto any trouble. You just stay where you are, " insisted Alderson. 

He motioned to Butler, who, however, now that he had embarked on hisgrim task, was thinking that he had made a mistake. What good would itdo him to force his way in and make her come out, unless he intendedto kill Cowperwood? If she were made to come down here, that would beenough. She would then know that he knew all. He did not care to quarrelwith Cowperwood, in any public way, he now decided. He was afraid to. Hewas afraid of himself. 

"Let her go, " he said grimly, doggedly referring to Mrs. Davis, "Butwatch her. Tell the girl to come down-stairs to me. "

Mrs. Davis, realizing on the moment that this was some family tragedy, and hoping in an agonized way that she could slip out of it peacefully, started upstairs at once with Alderson and his assistants who were closeat his heels. Reaching the door of the room occupied by Cowperwoodand Aileen, she tapped lightly. At the time Aileen and Cowperwood weresitting in a big arm-chair. At the first knock Aileen blanched andleaped to her feet. Usually not nervous, to-day, for some reason, sheanticipated trouble. Cowperwood's eyes instantly hardened. 

"Don't be nervous, " he said, "no doubt it's only the servant. I'll go. "

He started, but Aileen interfered. "Wait, " she said. Somewhat reassured, she went to the closet, and taking down a dressing-gown, slipped it on. Meanwhile the tap came again. Then she went to the door and opened itthe least bit. 

"Mrs. Montague, " exclaimed Mrs. Davis, in an obviously nervous, forcedvoice, "there's a gentleman downstairs who wishes to see you. "

"A gentleman to see me!" exclaimed Aileen, astonished and paling. "Areyou sure?"

"Yes; he says he wants to see you. There are several other men with him. I think it's some one who belongs to you, maybe. "

Aileen realized on the instant, as did Cowperwood, what had in alllikelihood happened. Butler or Mrs. Cowperwood had trailed them--in allprobability her father. He wondered now what he should do to protecther, not himself. He was in no way deeply concerned for himself, evenhere. Where any woman was concerned he was too chivalrous to permitfear. It was not at all improbable that Butler might want to kill him;but that did not disturb him. He really did not pay any attention tothat thought, and he was not armed. 

"I'll dress and go down, " he said, when he saw Aileen's pale face. "You stay here. And don't you worry in any way for I'll get you out ofthis--now, don't worry. This is my affair. I got you in it and I'll getyou out of it. " He went for his hat and coat and added, as he did so, "You go ahead and dress; but let me go first. "

Aileen, the moment the door closed, had begun to put on her clothesswiftly and nervously. Her mind was working like a rapidly movingmachine. She was wondering whether this really could be her father. Perhaps it was not. Might there be some other Mrs. Montague--a real one?Supposing it was her father--he had been so nice to her in not tellingthe family, in keeping her secret thus far. He loved her--she knew that. It makes all the difference in the world in a child's attitude on anoccasion like this whether she has been loved and petted and spoiled, orthe reverse. Aileen had been loved and petted and spoiled. She could notthink of her father doing anything terrible physically to her or to anyone else. But it was so hard to confront him--to look into his eyes. When she had attained a proper memory of him, her fluttering wits toldher what to do. 

"No, Frank, " she whispered, excitedly; "if it's father, you'd better letme go. I know how to talk to him. He won't say anything to me. You stayhere. I'm not afraid--really, I'm not. If I want you, I'll call you. "

He had come over and taken her pretty chin in his hands, and was lookingsolemnly into her eyes. 

"You mustn't be afraid, " he said. "I'll go down. If it's your father, you can go away with him. I don't think he'll do anything either to youor to me. If it is he, write me something at the office. I'll be there. If I can help you in any way, I will. We can fix up something. There'sno use trying to explain this. Say nothing at all. "

He had on his coat and overcoat, and was standing with his hat inhis hand. Aileen was nearly dressed, struggling with the row of redcurrent-colored buttons which fastened her dress in the back. Cowperwoodhelped her. When she was ready--hat, gloves, and all--he said:

"Now let me go first. I want to see. "

"No; please, Frank, " she begged, courageously. "Let me, I know it'sfather. Who else could it be?" She wondered at the moment whether herfather had brought her two brothers but would not now believe it. Hewould not do that, she knew. "You can come if I call. " She went on. "Nothing's going to happen, though. I understand him. He won't doanything to me. If you go it will only make him angry. Let me go. Youstand in the door here. If I don't call, it's all right. Will you?"

She put her two pretty hands on his shoulders, and he weighed the mattervery carefully. "Very well, " he said, "only I'll go to the foot of thestairs with you. "

They went to the door and he opened it. Outside were Alderson with twoother detectives and Mrs. Davis, standing perhaps five feet away. 

"Well, " said Cowperwood, commandingly, looking at Alderson. 

"There's a gentleman down-stairs wishes to see the lady, " said Alderson. "It's her father, I think, " he added quietly. 

Cowperwood made way for Aileen, who swept by, furious at the presence ofmen and this exposure. Her courage had entirely returned. She was angrynow to think her father would make a public spectacle of her. Cowperwoodstarted to follow. 

"I'd advise you not to go down there right away, " cautioned Alderson, sagely. "That's her father. Butler's her name, isn't it? He don't wantyou so much as he wants her. "

Cowperwood nevertheless walked slowly toward the head of the stairs, listening. 

"What made you come here, father?" he heard Aileen ask. 

Butler's reply he could not hear, but he was now at ease for he knew howmuch Butler loved his daughter. 

Confronted by her father, Aileen was now attempting to stare defiantly, to look reproachful, but Butler's deep gray eyes beneath their shaggybrows revealed such a weight of weariness and despair as even she, inher anger and defiance, could not openly flaunt. It was all too sad. 

"I never expected to find you in a place like this, daughter, " he said. "I should have thought you would have thought better of yourself. " Hisvoice choked and he stopped. 

"I know who you're here with, " he continued, shaking his head sadly. "The dog! I'll get him yet. I've had men watchin' you all the time. Oh, the shame of this day! The shame of this day! You'll be comin' home withme now. "

"That's just it, father, " began Aileen. "You've had men watching me. I should have thought--" She stopped, because he put up his hand in astrange, agonized, and yet dominating way. 

"None of that! none of that!" he said, glowering under his strange, sad, gray brows. "I can't stand it! Don't tempt me! We're not out of thisplace yet. He's not! You'll come home with me now. "

Aileen understood. It was Cowperwood he was referring to. Thatfrightened her. 

"I'm ready, " she replied, nervously. 

The old man led the way broken-heartedly. He felt he would never live toforget the agony of this hour. 

Chapter XXXVII

In spite of Butler's rage and his determination to do many things to thefinancier, if he could, he was so wrought up and shocked by the attitudeof Aileen that he could scarcely believe he was the same man he hadbeen twenty-four hours before. She was so nonchalant, so defiant. Hehad expected to see her wilt completely when confronted with her guilt. Instead, he found, to his despair, after they were once safely out ofthe house, that he had aroused a fighting quality in the girl which wasnot incomparable to his own. She had some of his own and Owen's grit. She sat beside him in the little runabout--not his own--in which he wasdriving her home, her face coloring and blanching by turns, as differentwaves of thought swept over her, determined to stand her ground now thather father had so plainly trapped her, to declare for Cowperwood and herlove and her position in general. What did she care, she askedherself, what her father thought now? She was in this thing. She lovedCowperwood; she was permanently disgraced in her father's eyes. Whatdifference could it all make now? He had fallen so low in his parentalfeeling as to spy on her and expose her before other men--strangers, detectives, Cowperwood. What real affection could she have for him afterthis? He had made a mistake, according to her. He had done a foolish anda contemptible thing, which was not warranted however bad her actionsmight have been. What could he hope to accomplish by rushing in on herin this way and ripping the veil from her very soul before these othermen--these crude detectives? Oh, the agony of that walk from thebedroom to the reception-room! She would never forgive her father forthis--never, never, never! He had now killed her love for him--that waswhat she felt. It was to be a battle royal between them from now on. As they rode--in complete silence for a while--her hands claspedand unclasped defiantly, her nails cutting her palms, and her mouthhardened. 

It is an open question whether raw opposition ever accomplishes anythingof value in this world. It seems so inherent in this mortal scheme ofthings that it appears to have a vast validity. It is more than likelythat we owe this spectacle called life to it, and that this can bedemonstrated scientifically; but when that is said and done, what is thevalue? What is the value of the spectacle? And what the value of a scenesuch as this enacted between Aileen and her father?

The old man saw nothing for it, as they rode on, save a grim contestbetween them which could end in what? What could he do with her? Theywere riding away fresh from this awful catastrophe, and she was notsaying a word! She had even asked him why he had come there! How was heto subdue her, when the very act of trapping her had failed to doso? His ruse, while so successful materially, had failed so utterlyspiritually. They reached the house, and Aileen got out. The old man, too nonplussed to wish to go further at this time, drove back to hisoffice. He then went out and walked--a peculiar thing for him to do; hehad done nothing like that in years and years--walking to think. Comingto an open Catholic church, he went in and prayed for enlightenment, the growing dusk of the interior, the single everlasting lamp before therepository of the chalice, and the high, white altar set with candlessoothing his troubled feelings. 

He came out of the church after a time and returned home. Aileen did notappear at dinner, and he could not eat. He went into his private roomand shut the door--thinking, thinking, thinking. The dreadful spectacleof Aileen in a house of ill repute burned in his brain. To think thatCowperwood should have taken her to such a place--his Aileen, hisand his wife's pet. In spite of his prayers, his uncertainty, heropposition, the puzzling nature of the situation, she must be got outof this. She must go away for a while, give the man up, and then the lawshould run its course with him. In all likelihood Cowperwood would go tothe penitentiary--if ever a man richly deserved to go, it was he. Butlerwould see that no stone was left unturned. He would make it a personalissue, if necessary. All he had to do was to let it be known in judicialcircles that he wanted it so. He could not suborn a jury, that wouldbe criminal; but he could see that the case was properly and forcefullypresented; and if Cowperwood were convicted, Heaven help him. The appealof his financial friends would not save him. The judges of the lower andsuperior courts knew on which side their bread was buttered. They wouldstrain a point in favor of the highest political opinion of the day, andhe certainly could influence that. Aileen meanwhile was contemplatingthe peculiar nature of her situation. In spite of their silence on theway home, she knew that a conversation was coming with her father. It had to be. He would want her to go somewhere. Most likely he wouldrevive the European trip in some form--she now suspected the invitationof Mrs. Mollenhauer as a trick; and she had to decide whether she wouldgo. Would she leave Cowperwood just when he was about to be tried? Shewas determined she would not. She wanted to see what was going to happento him. She would leave home first--run to some relative, some friend, some stranger, if necessary, and ask to be taken in. She had somemoney--a little. Her father had always been very liberal with her. Shecould take a few clothes and disappear. They would be glad enoughto send for her after she had been gone awhile. Her mother would befrantic; Norah and Callum and Owen would be beside themselves withwonder and worry; her father--she could see him. Maybe that would bringhim to his senses. In spite of all her emotional vagaries, she was thepride and interest of this home, and she knew it. 

It was in this direction that her mind was running when her father, afew days after the dreadful exposure in the Sixth Street house, sent forher to come to him in his room. He had come home from his office veryearly in the afternoon, hoping to find Aileen there, in order that hemight have a private interview with her, and by good luck found her in. She had had no desire to go out into the world these last few days--shewas too expectant of trouble to come. She had just written Cowperwoodasking for a rendezvous out on the Wissahickon the following afternoon, in spite of the detectives. She must see him. Her father, she said, haddone nothing; but she was sure he would attempt to do something. Shewanted to talk to Cowperwood about that. 

"I've been thinkin' about ye, Aileen, and what ought to be done in thiscase, " began her father without preliminaries of any kind once they werein his "office room" in the house together. "You're on the road to ruinif any one ever was. I tremble when I think of your immortal soul. Iwant to do somethin' for ye, my child, before it's too late. I've beenreproachin' myself for the last month and more, thinkin', perhaps, itwas somethin' I had done, or maybe had failed to do, aither me or yourmother, that has brought ye to the place where ye are to-day. Needlessto say, it's on me conscience, me child. It's a heartbroken man you'relookin' at this day. I'll never be able to hold me head up again. Oh, the shame--the shame! That I should have lived to see it!"

"But father, " protested Aileen, who was a little distraught at thethought of having to listen to a long preachment which would relate toher duty to God and the Church and her family and her mother and him. She realized that all these were important in their way; but Cowperwoodand his point of view had given her another outlook on life. They haddiscussed this matter of families--parents, children, husbands, wives, brothers, sisters--from almost every point of view. Cowperwood'slaissez-faire attitude had permeated and colored her mind completely. She saw things through his cold, direct "I satisfy myself" attitude. Hewas sorry for all the little differences of personality that sprangup between people, causing quarrels, bickerings, oppositions, andseparation; but they could not be helped. People outgrew each other. Their points of view altered at varying ratios--hence changes. Morals--those who had them had them; those who hadn't, hadn't. There wasno explaining. As for him, he saw nothing wrong in the sex relationship. Between those who were mutually compatible it was innocent anddelicious. Aileen in his arms, unmarried, but loved by him, and he byher, was as good and pure as any living woman--a great deal purer thanmost. One found oneself in a given social order, theory, or schemeof things. For purposes of social success, in order not to offend, tosmooth one's path, make things easy, avoid useless criticism, and thelike, it was necessary to create an outward seeming--ostensibly conform. Beyond that it was not necessary to do anything. Never fail, never getcaught. If you did, fight your way out silently and say nothing. Thatwas what he was doing in connection with his present financial troubles;that was what he had been ready to do the other day when they werecaught. It was something of all this that was coloring Aileen's mood asshe listened at present. 

"But father, " she protested, "I love Mr. Cowperwood. It's almost thesame as if I were married to him. He will marry me some day when he getsa divorce from Mrs. Cowperwood. You don't understand how it is. He'svery fond of me, and I love him. He needs me. "

Butler looked at her with strange, non-understanding eyes. "Divorce, did you say, " he began, thinking of the Catholic Church and its dogma inregard to that. "He'll divorce his own wife and children--and for you, will he? He needs you, does he?" he added, sarcastically. "What abouthis wife and children? I don't suppose they need him, do they? What talkhave ye?"

Aileen flung her head back defiantly. "It's true, nevertheless, " shereiterated. "You just don't understand. "

Butler could scarcely believe his ears. He had never heard such talkbefore in his life from any one. It amazed and shocked him. He wasquite aware of all the subtleties of politics and business, but theseof romance were too much for him. He knew nothing about them. To thinka daughter of his should be talking like this, and she a Catholic! Hecould not understand where she got such notions unless it was from theMachiavellian, corrupting brain of Cowperwood himself. 

"How long have ye had these notions, my child?" he suddenly asked, calmly and soberly. "Where did ye get them? Ye certainly never heardanything like that in this house, I warrant. Ye talk as though ye hadgone out of yer mind. "

"Oh, don't talk nonsense, father, " flared Aileen, angrily, thinking howhopeless it was to talk to her father about such things anyhow. "I'mnot a child any more. I'm twenty-four years of age. You just don'tunderstand. Mr. Cowperwood doesn't like his wife. He's going to get adivorce when he can, and will marry me. I love him, and he loves me, andthat's all there is to it. "

"Is it, though?" asked Butler, grimly determined by hook or by crook, tobring this girl to her senses. "Ye'll be takin' no thought of hiswife and children then? The fact that he's goin' to jail, besides, is nawthin' to ye, I suppose. Ye'd love him just as much in convictstripes, I suppose--more, maybe. " (The old man was at his best, humanlyspeaking, when he was a little sarcastic. ) "Ye'll have him that way, likely, if at all. "

Aileen blazed at once to a furious heat. "Yes, I know, " she sneered. "That's what you would like. I know what you've been doing. Frank does, too. You're trying to railroad him to prison for something he didn'tdo--and all on account of me. Oh, I know. But you won't hurt him. Youcan't! He's bigger and finer than you think he is and you won't hurthim in the long run. He'll get out again. You want to punish him on myaccount; but he doesn't care. I'll marry him anyhow. I love him, andI'll wait for him and marry him, and you can do what you please. Sothere!"

"Ye'll marry him, will you?" asked Butler, nonplussed and furtherastounded. "So ye'll wait for him and marry him? Ye'll take him awayfrom his wife and children, where, if he were half a man, he'd bestayin' this minute instead of gallivantin' around with you. And marryhim? Ye'd disgrace your father and yer mother and yer family? Ye'llstand here and say this to me, I that have raised ye, cared for ye, andmade somethin' of ye? Where would you be if it weren't for me and yourpoor, hard-workin' mother, schemin' and plannin' for you year in andyear out? Ye're smarter than I am, I suppose. Ye know more about theworld than I do, or any one else that might want to say anythin' to ye. I've raised ye to be a fine lady, and this is what I get. Talk about menot bein' able to understand, and ye lovin' a convict-to-be, a robber, an embezzler, a bankrupt, a lyin', thavin'--"

"Father!" exclaimed Aileen, determinedly. "I'll not listen to youtalking that way. He's not any of the things that you say. I'll not stayhere. " She moved toward the door; but Butler jumped up now and stoppedher. His face for the moment was flushed and swollen with anger. 

"But I'm not through with him yet, " he went on, ignoring her desire toleave, and addressing her direct--confident now that she was as capableas another of understanding him. "I'll get him as sure as I have a name. There's law in this land, and I'll have it on him. I'll show him whetherhe'll come sneakin' into dacent homes and robbin' parents of theirchildren. "

He paused after a time for want of breath and Aileen stared, her facetense and white. Her father could be so ridiculous. He was, contrastedwith Cowperwood and his views, so old-fashioned. To think he could betalking of some one coming into their home and stealing her away fromhim, when she had been so willing to go. What silliness! And yet, whyargue? What good could be accomplished, arguing with him here in thisway? And so for the moment, she said nothing more--merely looked. ButButler was by no means done. His mood was too stormy even though he wasdoing his best now to subdue himself. 

"It's too bad, daughter, " he resumed quietly, once he was satisfied thatshe was going to have little, if anything, to say. "I'm lettin' my angerget the best of me. It wasn't that I intended talkin' to ye about whenI ast ye to come in. It's somethin' else I have on me mind. I wasthinkin', perhaps, ye'd like to go to Europe for the time bein' to studymusic. Ye're not quite yourself just at present. Ye're needin' a rest. It would be good for ye to go away for a while. Ye could have a nicetime over there. Norah could go along with ye, if you would, andSister Constantia that taught you. Ye wouldn't object to havin' her, Isuppose?"

At the mention of this idea of a trip of Europe again, with SisterConstantia and music thrown in to give it a slightly new form, Aileenbridled, and yet half-smiled to herself now. It was so ridiculous--sotactless, really, for her father to bring up this now, and especiallyafter denouncing Cowperwood and her, and threatening all the things hehad. Had he no diplomacy at all where she was concerned? It was reallytoo funny! But she restrained herself here again, because she felt aswell as saw, that argument of this kind was all futile now. 

"I wish you wouldn't talk about that, father, " she began, havingsoftened under his explanation. "I don't want to go to Europe now. Idon't want to leave Philadelphia. I know you want me to go; but I don'twant to think of going now. I can't. "

Butler's brow darkened again. What was the use of all this opposition onher part? Did she really imagine that she was going to master him--herfather, and in connection with such an issue as this? How impossible!But tempering his voice as much as possible, he went on, quite softly, in fact. "But it would be so fine for ye, Aileen. Ye surely can't expectto stay here after--" He paused, for he was going to say "what hashappened. " He knew she was very sensitive on that point. His own conductin hunting her down had been such a breach of fatherly courtesy that heknew she felt resentful, and in a way properly so. Still, what could begreater than her own crime? "After, " he concluded, "ye have made sucha mistake ye surely wouldn't want to stay here. Ye won't be wantin' tokeep up that--committin' a mortal sin. It's against the laws of God andman. "

He did so hope the thought of sin would come to Aileen--the enormity ofher crime from a spiritual point of view--but Aileen did not see it atall. 

"You don't understand me, father, " she exclaimed, hopelessly toward theend. "You can't. I have one idea, and you have another. But I don't seemto be able to make you understand now. The fact is, if you want to knowit, I don't believe in the Catholic Church any more, so there. "

The moment Aileen had said this she wished she had not. It was a slip ofthe tongue. Butler's face took on an inexpressibly sad, despairing look. 

"Ye don't believe in the Church?" he asked. 

"No, not exactly--not like you do. "

He shook his head. 

"The harm that has come to yer soul!" he replied. "It's plain to me, daughter, that somethin' terrible has happened to ye. This man hasruined ye, body and soul. Somethin' must be done. I don't want to behard on ye, but ye must leave Philadelphy. Ye can't stay here. I can'tpermit ye. Ye can go to Europe, or ye can go to yer aunt's in NewOrleans; but ye must go somewhere. I can't have ye stayin' here--it'stoo dangerous. It's sure to be comin' out. The papers'll be havin' itnext. Ye're young yet. Yer life is before you. I tremble for yer soul;but so long as ye're young and alive ye may come to yer senses. It's meduty to be hard. It's my obligation to you and the Church. Ye must quitthis life. Ye must lave this man. Ye must never see him any more. Ican't permit ye. He's no good. He has no intintion of marrying ye, andit would be a crime against God and man if he did. No, no! Never that!The man's a bankrupt, a scoundrel, a thafe. If ye had him, ye'd soon bethe unhappiest woman in the world. He wouldn't be faithful to ye. No, he couldn't. He's not that kind. " He paused, sick to the depths of hissoul. "Ye must go away. I say it once and for all. I mane it kindly, butI want it. I have yer best interests at heart. I love ye; but ye must. I'm sorry to see ye go--I'd rather have ye here. No one will be sorrier;but ye must. Ye must make it all seem natcheral and ordinary to yermother; but ye must go--d'ye hear? Ye must. "

He paused, looking sadly but firmly at Aileen under his shaggy eyebrows. She knew he meant this. It was his most solemn, his most religiousexpression. But she did not answer. She could not. What was the use?Only she was not going. She knew that--and so she stood there white andtense. 

"Now get all the clothes ye want, " went on Butler, by no means graspingher true mood. "Fix yourself up in any way you plase. Say where ye wantto go, but get ready. "

"But I won't, father, " finally replied Aileen, equally solemnly, equallydeterminedly. "I won't go! I won't leave Philadelphia. "

"Ye don't mane to say ye will deliberately disobey me when I'm asking yeto do somethin' that's intended for yer own good, will ye daughter?"

"Yes, I will, " replied Aileen, determinedly. "I won't go! I'm sorry, butI won't!"

"Ye really mane that, do ye?" asked Butler, sadly but grimly. 

"Yes, I do, " replied Aileen, grimly, in return. 

"Then I'll have to see what I can do, daughter, " replied the old man. "Ye're still my daughter, whatever ye are, and I'll not see ye come towreck and ruin for want of doin' what I know to be my solemn duty. I'llgive ye a few more days to think this over, but go ye must. There's anend of that. There are laws in this land still. There are things thatcan be done to those who won't obey the law. I found ye this time--muchas it hurt me to do it. I'll find ye again if ye try to disobey me. Yemust change yer ways. I can't have ye goin' on as ye are. Ye understandnow. It's the last word. Give this man up, and ye can have anything yechoose. Ye're my girl--I'll do everything I can in this world to makeye happy. Why, why shouldn't I? What else have I to live for but mechildren? It's ye and the rest of them that I've been workin' andplannin' for all these years. Come now, be a good girl. Ye love your oldfather, don't ye? Why, I rocked ye in my arms as a baby, Aileen. I'vewatched over ye when ye were not bigger than what would rest in me twofists here. I've been a good father to ye--ye can't deny that. Look atthe other girls you've seen. Have any of them had more nor what ye havehad? Ye won't go against me in this. I'm sure ye won't. Ye can't. Yelove me too much--surely ye do--don't ye?" His voice weakened. His eyesalmost filled. 

He paused and put a big, brown, horny hand on Aileen's arm. She hadlistened to his plea not unmoved--really more or less softened--becauseof the hopelessness of it. She could not give up Cowperwood. Her fatherjust did not understand. He did not know what love was. Unquestionablyhe had never loved as she had. 

She stood quite silent while Butler appealed to her. 

"I'd like to, father, " she said at last and softly, tenderly. "ReallyI would. I do love you. Yes, I do. I want to please you; but I can't inthis--I can't! I love Frank Cowperwood. You don't understand--really youdon't!"

At the repetition of Cowperwood's name Butler's mouth hardened. He couldsee that she was infatuated--that his carefully calculated plea hadfailed. So he must think of some other way. 

"Very well, then, " he said at last and sadly, oh, so sadly, as Aileenturned away. "Have it yer own way, if ye will. Ye must go, though, willy-nilly. It can't be any other way. I wish to God it could. "

Aileen went out, very solemn, and Butler went over to his desk and satdown. "Such a situation!" he said to himself. "Such a complication!"

Chapter XXXVIII

The situation which confronted Aileen was really a trying one. A girl ofless innate courage and determination would have weakened and yielded. For in spite of her various social connections and acquaintances, thepeople to whom Aileen could run in an emergency of the present kind werenot numerous. She could scarcely think of any one who would be likelyto take her in for any lengthy period, without question. There were anumber of young women of her own age, married and unmarried, who werevery friendly to her, but there were few with whom she was reallyintimate. The only person who stood out in her mind, as having any realpossibility of refuge for a period, was a certain Mary Calligan, betterknown as "Mamie" among her friends, who had attended school with Aileenin former years and was now a teacher in one of the local schools. 

The Calligan family consisted of Mrs. Katharine Calligan, the mother, a dressmaker by profession and a widow--her husband, a house-mover bytrade, having been killed by a falling wall some ten years before--andMamie, her twenty-three-year-old daughter. They lived in a smalltwo-story brick house in Cherry Street, near Fifteenth. Mrs. Calliganwas not a very good dressmaker, not good enough, at least, for theButler family to patronize in their present exalted state. Aileenwent there occasionally for gingham house-dresses, underwear, prettydressing-gowns, and alterations on some of her more important clothingwhich was made by a very superior modiste in Chestnut Street. Shevisited the house largely because she had gone to school with Mamieat St. Agatha's, when the outlook of the Calligan family was much morepromising. Mamie was earning forty dollars a month as the teacher of asixth-grade room in one of the nearby public schools, and Mrs. Calliganaveraged on the whole about two dollars a day--sometimes not so much. The house they occupied was their own, free and clear, and the furniturewhich it contained suggested the size of their joint income, which wassomewhere near eighty dollars a month. 

Mamie Calligan was not good-looking, not nearly as good-looking as hermother had been before her. Mrs. Calligan was still plump, bright, andcheerful at fifty, with a fund of good humor. Mamie was somewhat dullermentally and emotionally. She was serious-minded--made so, perhaps, asmuch by circumstances as by anything else, for she was not at all vivid, and had little sex magnetism. Yet she was kindly, honest, earnest, a good Catholic, and possessed of that strangely excessive ingrowingvirtue which shuts so many people off from the world--a sense of duty. To Mamie Calligan duty (a routine conformity to such theories andprecepts as she had heard and worked by since her childhood) was theall-important thing, her principal source of comfort and relief; herprops in a queer and uncertain world being her duty to her Church; herduty to her school; her duty to her mother; her duty to her friends, etc. Her mother often wished for Mamie's sake that she was less dutifuland more charming physically, so that the men would like her. 

In spite of the fact that her mother was a dressmaker, Mamie's clothesnever looked smart or attractive--she would have felt out of keepingwith herself if they had. Her shoes were rather large, and ill-fitting;her skirt hung in lifeless lines from her hips to her feet, of goodmaterial but seemingly bad design. At that time the colored "jersey, "so-called, was just coming into popular wear, and, being close-fitting, looked well on those of good form. Alas for Mamie Calligan! The mode ofthe time compelled her to wear one; but she had neither the arms nor thechest development which made this garment admirable. Her hat, by choice, was usually a pancake affair with a long, single feather, which somehownever seemed to be in exactly the right position, either to her hairor her face. At most times she looked a little weary; but she was notphysically weary so much as she was bored. Her life held so little ofreal charm; and Aileen Butler was unquestionably the most significantelement of romance in it. 

Mamie's mother's very pleasant social disposition, the fact that theyhad a very cleanly, if poor little home, that she could entertainthem by playing on their piano, and that Mrs. Calligan took an adoringinterest in the work she did for her, made up the sum and substanceof the attraction of the Calligan home for Aileen. She went thereoccasionally as a relief from other things, and because Mamie Calliganhad a compatible and very understanding interest in literature. Curiously, the books Aileen liked she liked--Jane Eyre, KenelmChillingly, Tricotrin, and A Bow of Orange Ribbon. Mamie occasionallyrecommended to Aileen some latest effusion of this character; andAileen, finding her judgment good, was constrained to admire her. 

In this crisis it was to the home of the Calligans that Aileen turned inthought. If her father really was not nice to her, and she had to leavehome for a time, she could go to the Calligans. They would receive herand say nothing. They were not sufficiently well known to the othermembers of the Butler family to have the latter suspect that she hadgone there. She might readily disappear into the privacy of CherryStreet and not be seen or heard of for weeks. It is an interestingfact to contemplate that the Calligans, like the various members of theButler family, never suspected Aileen of the least tendency toward awayward existence. Hence her flight from her own family, if it evercame, would be laid more to the door of a temperamental pettishness thananything else. 

On the other hand, in so far as the Butler family as a unit wasconcerned, it needed Aileen more than she needed it. It needed the lightof her countenance to keep it appropriately cheerful, and if she wentaway there would be a distinct gulf that would not soon be overcome. 

Butler, senior, for instance, had seen his little daughter grow intoradiantly beautiful womanhood. He had seen her go to school and conventand learn to play the piano--to him a great accomplishment. Also he hadseen her manner change and become very showy and her knowledge of lifebroaden, apparently, and become to him, at least, impressive. Her smart, dogmatic views about most things were, to him, at least, well worthlistening to. She knew more about books and art than Owen or Callum, and her sense of social manners was perfect. When she came to thetable--breakfast, luncheon, or dinner--she was to him always a charmingobject to see. He had produced Aileen--he congratulated himself. He hadfurnished her the money to be so fine. He would continue to do so. Nosecond-rate upstart of a man should be allowed to ruin her life. Heproposed to take care of her always--to leave her so much money in alegally involved way that a failure of a husband could not possiblyaffect her. "You're the charming lady this evenin', I'm thinkin', " wasone of his pet remarks; and also, "My, but we're that fine!" At tablealmost invariably she sat beside him and looked out for him. That waswhat he wanted. He had put her there beside him at his meals yearsbefore when she was a child. 

Her mother, too, was inordinately fond of her, and Callum and Owenappropriately brotherly. So Aileen had thus far at least paid back withbeauty and interest quite as much as she received, and all the familyfelt it to be so. When she was away for a day or two the house seemedglum--the meals less appetizing. When she returned, all were happy andgay again. 

Aileen understood this clearly enough in a way. Now, when it came tothinking of leaving and shifting for herself, in order to avoid a tripwhich she did not care to be forced into, her courage was based largelyon this keen sense of her own significance to the family. She thoughtover what her father had said, and decided she must act at once. Shedressed for the street the next morning, after her father had gone, anddecided to step in at the Calligans' about noon, when Mamie would be athome for luncheon. Then she would take up the matter casually. Ifthey had no objection, she would go there. She sometimes wondered whyCowperwood did not suggest, in his great stress, that they leave forsome parts unknown; but she also felt that he must know best what hecould do. His increasing troubles depressed her. 

Mrs. Calligan was alone when she arrived and was delighted to see her. After exchanging the gossip of the day, and not knowing quite how toproceed in connection with the errand which had brought her, she went tothe piano and played a melancholy air. 

"Sure, it's lovely the way you play, Aileen, " observed Mrs. Calligan whowas unduly sentimental herself. "I love to hear you. I wish you'd comeoftener to see us. You're so rarely here nowadays. "

"Oh, I've been so busy, Mrs. Calligan, " replied Aileen. "I've had somuch to do this fall, I just couldn't. They wanted me to go to Europe;but I didn't care to. Oh, dear!" she sighed, and in her playing sweptoff with a movement of sad, romantic significance. The door opened andMamie came in. Her commonplace face brightened at the sight of Aileen. 

"Well, Aileen Butler!" she exclaimed. "Where did you come from? Wherehave you been keeping yourself so long?"

Aileen rose to exchange kisses. "Oh, I've been very busy, Mamie. I'vejust been telling your mother. How are you, anyway? How are you gettingalong in your work?"

Mamie recounted at once some school difficulties which were puzzlingher--the growing size of classes and the amount of work expected. WhileMrs. Calligan was setting the table Mamie went to her room and Aileenfollowed her. 

As she stood before her mirror arranging her hair Aileen looked at hermeditatively. 

"What's the matter with you, Aileen, to-day?" Mamie asked. "You lookso--" She stopped to give her a second glance. 

"How do I look?" asked Aileen. 

"Well, as if you were uncertain or troubled about something. I never sawyou look that way before. What's the matter?"

"Oh, nothing, " replied Aileen. "I was just thinking. " She went to one ofthe windows which looked into the little yard, meditating on whether shecould endure living here for any length of time. The house was so small, the furnishings so very simple. 

"There is something the matter with you to-day, Aileen, " observed Mamie, coming over to her and looking in her face. "You're not like yourself atall. "

"I've got something on my mind, " replied Aileen--"something that'sworrying me. I don't know just what to do--that's what's the matter. "

"Well, whatever can it be?" commented Mamie. "I never saw you act thisway before. Can't you tell me? What is it?"

"No, I don't think I can--not now, anyhow. " Aileen paused. "Do yousuppose your mother would object, " she asked, suddenly, "if I came hereand stayed a little while? I want to get away from home for a time for acertain reason. "

"Why, Aileen Butler, how you talk!" exclaimed her friend. "Object! Youknow she'd be delighted, and so would I. Oh, dear--can you come? Butwhat makes you want to leave home?"

"That's just what I can't tell you--not now, anyhow. Not you, so much, but your mother. You know, I'm afraid of what she'd think, " repliedAileen. "But, you mustn't ask me yet, anyhow. I want to think. Oh, dear!But I want to come, if you'll let me. Will you speak to your mother, orshall I?"

"Why, I will, " said Mamie, struck with wonder at this remarkabledevelopment; "but it's silly to do it. I know what she'll say before Itell her, and so do you. You can just bring your things and come. That'sall. She'd never say anything or ask anything, either, and you knowthat--if you didn't want her to. " Mamie was all agog and aglow at theidea. She wanted the companionship of Aileen so much. 

Aileen looked at her solemnly, and understood well enough why she wasso enthusiastic--both she and her mother. Both wanted her presence tobrighten their world. "But neither of you must tell anybody that I'mhere, do you hear? I don't want any one to know--particularly no one ofmy family. I've a reason, and a good one, but I can't tell you what itis--not now, anyhow. You'll promise not to tell any one. "

"Oh, of course, " replied Mamie eagerly. "But you're not going to runaway for good, are you, Aileen?" she concluded curiously and gravely. 

"Oh, I don't know; I don't know what I'll do yet. I only know that Iwant to get away for a while, just now--that's all. " She paused, whileMamie stood before her, agape. 

"Well, of all things, " replied her friend. "Wonders never cease, dothey, Aileen? But it will be so lovely to have you here. Mama will beso pleased. Of course, we won't tell anybody if you don't want us to. Hardly any one ever comes here; and if they do, you needn't see them. You could have this big room next to me. Oh, wouldn't that be nice?I'm perfectly delighted. " The young school-teacher's spirits rose to adecided height. "Come on, why not tell mama right now?"

Aileen hesitated because even now she was not positive whether sheshould do this, but finally they went down the stairs together, Aileenlingering behind a little as they neared the bottom. Mamie burst in uponher mother with: "Oh, mama, isn't it lovely? Aileen's coming to staywith us for a while. She doesn't want any one to know, and she's comingright away. " Mrs. Calligan, who was holding a sugarbowl in her hand, turned to survey her with a surprised but smiling face. She wasimmediately curious as to why Aileen should want to come--why leavehome. On the other hand, her feeling for Aileen was so deep that shewas greatly and joyously intrigued by the idea. And why not? Was not thecelebrated Edward Butler's daughter a woman grown, capable of regulatingher own affairs, and welcome, of course, as the honored member of soimportant a family. It was very flattering to the Calligans to thinkthat she would want to come under any circumstances. 

"I don't see how your parents can let you go, Aileen; but you'recertainly welcome here as long as you want to stay, and that's forever, if you want to. " And Mrs. Calligan beamed on her welcomingly. The ideaof Aileen Butler asking to be permitted to come here! And the hearty, comprehending manner in which she said this, and Mamie's enthusiasm, caused Aileen to breathe a sigh of relief. The matter of the expense ofher presence to the Calligans came into her mind. 

"I want to pay you, of course, " she said to Mrs. Calligan, "if I come. "

"The very idea, Aileen Butler!" exclaimed Mamie. "You'll do nothing ofthe sort. You'll come here and live with me as my guest. "

"No, I won't! If I can't pay I won't come, " replied Aileen. "You'll haveto let me do that. " She knew that the Calligans could not afford to keepher. 

"Well, we'll not talk about that now, anyhow, " replied Mrs. Calligan. "You can come when you like and stay as long as you like. Reach mesome clean napkins, Mamie. " Aileen remained for luncheon, and left soonafterward to keep her suggested appointment with Cowperwood, feelingsatisfied that her main problem had been solved. Now her way wasclear. She could come here if she wanted to. It was simply a matter ofcollecting a few necessary things or coming without bringing anything. Perhaps Frank would have something to suggest. 

In the meantime Cowperwood made no effort to communicate with Aileensince the unfortunate discovery of their meeting place, but had awaiteda letter from her, which was not long in coming. And, as usual, it was along, optimistic, affectionate, and defiant screed in which she relatedall that had occurred to her and her present plan of leaving home. Thislast puzzled and troubled him not a little. 

Aileen in the bosom of her family, smart and well-cared for, was onething. Aileen out in the world dependent on him was another. He hadnever imagined that she would be compelled to leave before he wasprepared to take her; and if she did now, it might stir up complicationswhich would be anything but pleasant to contemplate. Still he was fondof her, very, and would do anything to make her happy. He could supporther in a very respectable way even now, if he did not eventually go toprison, and even there he might manage to make some shift for her. Itwould be so much better, though, if he could persuade her to remain athome until he knew exactly what his fate was to be. He never doubted butthat some day, whatever happened, within a reasonable length of time, hewould be rid of all these complications and well-to-do again, in whichcase, if he could get a divorce, he wanted to marry Aileen. If not, hewould take her with him anyhow, and from this point of view it mightbe just as well as if she broke away from her family now. But from thepoint of view of present complications--the search Butler would make--itmight be dangerous. He might even publicly charge him with abduction. Hetherefore decided to persuade Aileen to stay at home, drop meetings andcommunications for the time being, and even go abroad. He would be allright until she came back and so would she--common sense ought to rulein this case. 

With all this in mind he set out to keep the appointment she suggestedin her letter, nevertheless feeling it a little dangerous to do so. 

"Are you sure, " he asked, after he had listened to her description ofthe Calligan homestead, "that you would like it there? It sounds ratherpoor to me. "

"Yes, but I like them so much, " replied Aileen. 

"And you're sure they won't tell on you?"

"Oh, no; never, never!"

"Very well, " he concluded. "You know what you're doing. I don't wantto advise you against your will. If I were you, though, I'd take yourfather's advice and go away for a while. He'll get over this then, andI'll still be here. I can write you occasionally, and you can write me. "

The moment Cowperwood said this Aileen's brow clouded. Her love for himwas so great that there was something like a knife thrust in the meresthint at an extended separation. Her Frank here and in trouble--on trialmaybe and she away! Never! What could he mean by suggesting such athing? Could it be that he didn't care for her as much as she did forhim? Did he really love her? she asked herself. Was he going to deserther just when she was going to do the thing which would bring themnearer together? Her eyes clouded, for she was terribly hurt. 

"Why, how you talk!" she exclaimed. "You know I won't leave Philadelphianow. You certainly don't expect me to leave you. "

Cowperwood saw it all very clearly. He was too shrewd not to. He wasimmensely fond of her. Good heaven, he thought, he would not hurt herfeelings for the world!

"Honey, " he said, quickly, when he saw her eyes, "you don't understand. I want you to do what you want to do. You've planned this out in orderto be with me; so now you do it. Don't think any more about me oranything I've said. I was merely thinking that it might make mattersworse for both of us; but I don't believe it will. You think your fatherloves you so much that after you're gone he'll change his mind. Verygood; go. But we must be very careful, sweet--you and I--really we must. This thing is getting serious. If you should go and your father shouldcharge me with abduction--take the public into his confidence and tellall about this, it would be serious for both of us--as much for you asfor me, for I'd be convicted sure then, just on that account, if nothingelse. And then what? You'd better not try to see me often for thepresent--not any oftener than we can possibly help. If we had usedcommon sense and stopped when your father got that letter, this wouldn'thave happened. But now that it has happened, we must be as wise as wecan, don't you see? So, think it over, and do what you think best andthen write me and whatever you do will be all right with me--do youhear?" He drew her to him and kissed her. "You haven't any money, haveyou?" he concluded wisely. 

Aileen, deeply moved by all he had just said, was none the lessconvinced once she had meditated on it a moment, that her course wasbest. Her father loved her too much. He would not do anything to hurther publicly and so he would not attack Cowperwood through her openly. More than likely, as she now explained to Frank, he would plead with herto come back. And he, listening, was compelled to yield. Why argue? Shewould not leave him anyhow. 

He went down in his pocket for the first time since he had known Aileenand produced a layer of bills. "Here's two hundred dollars, sweet, " hesaid, "until I see or hear from you. I'll see that you have whateveryou need; and now don't think that I don't love you. You know I do. I'mcrazy about you. "

Aileen protested that she did not need so much--that she did not reallyneed any--she had some at home; but he put that aside. He knew that shemust have money. 

"Don't talk, honey, " he said. "I know what you need. " She had beenso used to receiving money from her father and mother in comfortableamounts from time to time that she thought nothing of it. Frank lovedher so much that it made everything right between them. She softenedin her mood and they discussed the matter of letters, reaching theconclusion that a private messenger would be safest. When finally theyparted, Aileen, from being sunk in the depths by his uncertain attitude, was now once more on the heights. She decided that he did love her, andwent away smiling. She had her Frank to fall back on--she would teachher father. Cowperwood shook his head, following her with his eyes. Sherepresented an additional burden, but give her up, he certainly couldnot. Tear the veil from this illusion of affection and make her feel sowretched when he cared for her so much? No. There was really nothing forhim to do but what he had done. After all, he reflected, it might notwork out so badly. Any detective work that Butler might choose to dowould prove that she had not run to him. If at any moment it becamenecessary to bring common sense into play to save the situation froma deadly climax, he could have the Butlers secretly informed as toAileen's whereabouts. That would show he had little to do with it, and they could try to persuade Aileen to come home again. Good mightresult--one could not tell. He would deal with the evils as they arose. He drove quickly back to his office, and Aileen returned to her homedetermined to put her plan into action. Her father had given her somelittle time in which to decide--possibly he would give her longer--butshe would not wait. Having always had her wish granted in everything, she could not understand why she was not to have her way this time. Itwas about five o'clock now. She would wait until all the members of thefamily were comfortably seated at the dinner-table, which would be aboutseven o'clock, and then slip out. 

On arriving home, however, she was greeted by an unexpected reasonfor suspending action. This was the presence of a certain Mr. And Mrs. Steinmetz--the former a well-known engineer who drew the plans for manyof the works which Butler undertook. It was the day before Thanksgiving, and they were eager to have Aileen and Norah accompany them fora fortnight's stay at their new home in West Chester--a structureconcerning the charm of which Aileen had heard much. They wereexceedingly agreeable people--comparatively young and surrounded by acoterie of interesting friends. Aileen decided to delay her flight andgo. Her father was most cordial. The presence and invitation of theSteinmetzes was as much a relief to him as it was to Aileen. WestChester being forty miles from Philadelphia, it was unlikely that Aileenwould attempt to meet Cowperwood while there. 

She wrote Cowperwood of the changed condition and departed, and hebreathed a sigh of relief, fancying at the time that this storm hadpermanently blown over. 

Chapter XXXIX

In the meanwhile the day of Cowperwood's trial was drawing near. He wasunder the impression that an attempt was going to be made to convict himwhether the facts warranted it or not. He did not see any way out ofhis dilemma, however, unless it was to abandon everything and leavePhiladelphia for good, which was impossible. The only way to guard hisfuture and retain his financial friends was to stand trial as quickly aspossible, and trust them to assist him to his feet in the future incase he failed. He discussed the possibilities of an unfair trial withSteger, who did not seem to think that there was so much to that. In thefirst place, a jury could not easily be suborned by any one. In the nextplace, most judges were honest, in spite of their political cleavage, and would go no further than party bias would lead them in their rulingsand opinions, which was, in the main, not so far. The particular judgewho was to sit in this case, one Wilbur Payderson, of the Court ofQuarter Sessions, was a strict party nominee, and as such beholden toMollenhauer, Simpson, and Butler; but, in so far as Steger had everheard, he was an honest man. 

"What I can't understand, " said Steger, "is why these fellows should beso anxious to punish you, unless it is for the effect on the State atlarge. The election's over. I understand there's a movement on now toget Stener out in case he is convicted, which he will be. They have totry him. He won't go up for more than a year, or two or three, and ifhe does he'll be pardoned out in half the time or less. It would be thesame in your case, if you were convicted. They couldn't keep you in andlet him out. But it will never get that far--take my word for it. We'llwin before a jury, or we'll reverse the judgment of conviction beforethe State Supreme Court, certain. Those five judges up there are notgoing to sustain any such poppycock idea as this. "

Steger actually believed what he said, and Cowperwood was pleased. Thusfar the young lawyer had done excellently well in all of his cases. Still, he did not like the idea of being hunted down by Butler. It was aserious matter, and one of which Steger was totally unaware. Cowperwoodcould never quite forget that in listening to his lawyer's optimisticassurances. 

The actual beginning of the trial found almost all of the inhabitantsof this city of six hundred thousand "keyed up. " None of the women ofCowperwood's family were coming into court. He had insisted that thereshould be no family demonstration for the newspapers to comment upon. His father was coming, for he might be needed as a witness. Aileenhad written him the afternoon before saying she had returned from WestChester and wishing him luck. She was so anxious to know what wasto become of him that she could not stay away any longer and hadreturned--not to go to the courtroom, for he did not want her to dothat, but to be as near as possible when his fate was decided, adverselyor otherwise. She wanted to run and congratulate him if he won, or toconsole with him if he lost. She felt that her return would be likely toprecipitate a collision with her father, but she could not help that. 

The position of Mrs. Cowperwood was most anomalous. She had to gothrough the formality of seeming affectionate and tender, even when sheknew that Frank did not want her to be. He felt instinctively now thatshe knew of Aileen. He was merely awaiting the proper hour in which tospread the whole matter before her. She put her arms around him at thedoor on the fateful morning, in the somewhat formal manner into whichthey had dropped these later years, and for a moment, even though shewas keenly aware of his difficulties, she could not kiss him. He did notwant to kiss her, but he did not show it. She did kiss him, though, andadded: "Oh, I do hope things come out all right. "

"You needn't worry about that, I think, Lillian, " he replied, buoyantly. "I'll be all right. "

He ran down the steps and walked out on Girard Avenue to his former carline, where he bearded a car. He was thinking of Aileen and how keenlyshe was feeling for him, and what a mockery his married life now was, and whether he would face a sensible jury, and so on and so forth. If hedidn't--if he didn't--this day was crucial!

He stepped off the car at Third and Market and hurried to his office. Steger was already there. "Well, Harper, " observed Cowperwood, courageously, "today's the day. "

The Court of Quarter Sessions, Part I, where this trial was to takeplace, was held in famous Independence Hall, at Sixth and ChestnutStreets, which was at this time, as it had been for all of a centurybefore, the center of local executive and judicial life. It was a lowtwo-story building of red brick, with a white wooden central tower ofold Dutch and English derivation, compounded of the square, the circle, and the octagon. The total structure consisted of a central portion andtwo T-shaped wings lying to the right and left, whose small, oval-toppedold-fashioned windows and doors were set with those many-paned sashes somuch admired by those who love what is known as Colonial architecture. Here, and in an addition known as State House Row (since torn down), which extended from the rear of the building toward Walnut Street, were located the offices of the mayor, the chief of police, the citytreasurer, the chambers of council, and all the other important andexecutive offices of the city, together with the four branches ofQuarter Sessions, which sat to hear the growing docket of criminalcases. The mammoth city hall which was subsequently completed at Broadand Market Streets was then building. 

An attempt had been made to improve the reasonably large courtrooms byputting in them raised platforms of dark walnut surmounted by large, dark walnut desks, behind which the judges sat; but the attempt was notvery successful. The desks, jury-boxes, and railings generally weremade too large, and so the general effect was one of disproportion. Acream-colored wall had been thought the appropriate thing to go withblack walnut furniture, but time and dust had made the combinationdreary. There were no pictures or ornaments of any kind, save thestalky, over-elaborated gas-brackets which stood on his honor's desk, and the single swinging chandelier suspended from the center of theceiling. Fat bailiffs and court officers, concerned only in holdingtheir workless jobs, did not add anything to the spirit of the scene. Two of them in the particular court in which this trial was heldcontended hourly as to which should hand the judge a glass of water. Onepreceded his honor like a fat, stuffy, dusty majordomo to and from hisdressing-room. His business was to call loudly, when the latter entered, "His honor the Court, hats off. Everybody please rise, " while a secondbailiff, standing at the left of his honor when he was seated, andbetween the jury-box and the witness-chair, recited in an absolutelyunintelligible way that beautiful and dignified statement of collectivesociety's obligation to the constituent units, which begins, "Hear ye!hear ye! hear ye!" and ends, "All those of you having just cause forcomplaint draw near and ye shall be heard. " However, you would havethought it was of no import here. Custom and indifference had allowed itto sink to a mumble. A third bailiff guarded the door of the jury-room;and in addition to these there were present a court clerk--small, pale, candle-waxy, with colorless milk-and-water eyes, and thin, pork-fat-colored hair and beard, who looked for all the world likean Americanized and decidedly decrepit Chinese mandarin--and a courtstenographer. 

Judge Wilbur Payderson, a lean herring of a man, who had sat in thiscase originally as the examining judge when Cowperwood had been indictedby the grand jury, and who had bound him over for trial at this term, was a peculiarly interesting type of judge, as judges go. He was someager and thin-blooded that he was arresting for those qualities alone. Technically, he was learned in the law; actually, so far as life wasconcerned, absolutely unconscious of that subtle chemistry of thingsthat transcends all written law and makes for the spirit and, beyondthat, the inutility of all law, as all wise judges know. You could havelooked at his lean, pedantic body, his frizzled gray hair, his fishy, blue-gray eyes, without any depth of speculation in them, and hisnicely modeled but unimportant face, and told him that he was withoutimagination; but he would not have believed you--would have finedyou for contempt of court. By the careful garnering of all his littleopportunities, the furbishing up of every meager advantage; by listeningslavishly to the voice of party, and following as nearly as he could thebehests of intrenched property, he had reached his present state. It wasnot very far along, at that. His salary was only six thousand dollarsa year. His little fame did not extend beyond the meager realm of locallawyers and judges. But the sight of his name quoted daily as beingabout his duties, or rendering such and such a decision, was a greatsatisfaction to him. He thought it made him a significant figure inthe world. "Behold I am not as other men, " he often thought, and thiscomforted him. He was very much flattered when a prominent case came tohis calendar; and as he sat enthroned before the various litigants andlawyers he felt, as a rule, very significant indeed. Now and then somesubtlety of life would confuse his really limited intellect; but in allsuch cases there was the letter of the law. He could hunt in the reportsto find out what really thinking men had decided. Besides, lawyerseverywhere are so subtle. They put the rules of law, favorable orunfavorable, under the judge's thumb and nose. "Your honor, in thethirty-second volume of the Revised Reports of Massachusetts, page soand so, line so and so, in Arundel versus Bannerman, you will find, etc. " How often have you heard that in a court of law? The reasoningthat is left to do in most cases is not much. And the sanctity of thelaw is raised like a great banner by which the pride of the incumbent isstrengthened. 

Payderson, as Steger had indicated, could scarcely be pointed to as anunjust judge. He was a party judge--Republican in principle, or ratherbelief, beholden to the dominant party councils for his personalcontinuance in office, and as such willing and anxious to do whatever heconsidered that he reasonably could do to further the party welfare andthe private interests of his masters. Most people never trouble to lookinto the mechanics of the thing they call their conscience too closely. Where they do, too often they lack the skill to disentangle the tangledthreads of ethics and morals. Whatever the opinion of the timeis, whatever the weight of great interests dictates, that theyconscientiously believe. Some one has since invented the phrase "acorporation-minded judge. " There are many such. 

Payderson was one. He fairly revered property and power. To him Butlerand Mollenhauer and Simpson were great men--reasonably sure to be rightalways because they were so powerful. This matter of Cowperwood's andStener's defalcation he had long heard of. He knew by associating withone political light and another just what the situation was. Theparty, as the leaders saw it, had been put in a very bad position byCowperwood's subtlety. He had led Stener astray--more than an ordinarycity treasurer should have been led astray--and, although Stener wasprimarily guilty as the original mover in the scheme, Cowperwood wasmore so for having led him imaginatively to such disastrous lengths. Besides, the party needed a scapegoat--that was enough for Payderson, in the first place. Of course, after the election had been won, and itappeared that the party had not suffered so much, he did not understandquite why it was that Cowperwood was still so carefully included in theProceedings; but he had faith to believe that the leaders had some justgrounds for not letting him off. From one source and another he learnedthat Butler had some private grudge against Cowperwood. What it was noone seemed to know exactly. The general impression was that Cowperwoodhad led Butler into some unwholesome financial transactions. Anyhow, itwas generally understood that for the good of the party, and in order toteach a wholesome lesson to dangerous subordinates--it had been decidedto allow these several indictments to take their course. Cowperwood wasto be punished quite as severely as Stener for the moral effect on thecommunity. Stener was to be sentenced the maximum sentence for his crimein order that the party and the courts should appear properly righteous. Beyond that he was to be left to the mercy of the governor, who couldease things up for him if he chose, and if the leaders wished. In thesilly mind of the general public the various judges of Quarter Sessions, like girls incarcerated in boarding-schools, were supposed in theirserene aloofness from life not to know what was going on in thesubterranean realm of politics; but they knew well enough, and, knowing particularly well from whence came their continued position andauthority, they were duly grateful. 

Chapter XL

When Cowperwood came into the crowded courtroom with his fatherand Steger, quite fresh and jaunty (looking the part of the shrewdfinancier, the man of affairs), every one stared. It was really toomuch to expect, most of them thought, that a man like this would beconvicted. He was, no doubt, guilty; but, also, no doubt, he had waysand means of evading the law. His lawyer, Harper Steger, looked veryshrewd and canny to them. It was very cold, and both men wore long, dark, bluish-gray overcoats, cut in the latest mode. Cowperwood wasgiven to small boutonnieres in fair weather, but to-day he wore none. His tie, however, was of heavy, impressive silk, of lavender hue, set with a large, clear, green emerald. He wore only the thinnest ofwatch-chains, and no other ornament of any kind. He always looked jauntyand yet reserved, good-natured, and yet capable and self-sufficient. Never had he looked more so than he did to-day. 

He at once took in the nature of the scene, which had a peculiarinterest for him. Before him was the as yet empty judge's rostrum, andat its right the empty jury-box, between which, and to the judge's left, as he sat facing the audience, stood the witness-chair where he mustpresently sit and testify. Behind it, already awaiting the arrival ofthe court, stood a fat bailiff, one John Sparkheaver whose business itwas to present the aged, greasy Bible to be touched by the witnesses inmaking oath, and to say, "Step this way, " when the testimony was over. There were other bailiffs--one at the gate giving into the railed spacebefore the judge's desk, where prisoners were arraigned, lawyers sator pleaded, the defendant had a chair, and so on; another in the aisleleading to the jury-room, and still another guarding the door by whichthe public entered. Cowperwood surveyed Stener, who was one of thewitnesses, and who now, in his helpless fright over his own fate, waswithout malice toward any one. He had really never borne any. He wishedif anything now that he had followed Cowperwood's advice, seeing wherehe now was, though he still had faith that Mollenhauer and the politicalpowers represented by him would do something for him with the governor, once he was sentenced. He was very pale and comparatively thin. Alreadyhe had lost that ruddy bulk which had been added during the days ofhis prosperity. He wore a new gray suit and a brown tie, and wasclean-shaven. When his eye caught Cowperwood's steady beam, it falteredand drooped. He rubbed his ear foolishly. Cowperwood nodded. 

"You know, " he said to Steger, "I feel sorry for George. He's such afool. Still I did all I could. "

Cowperwood also watched Mrs. Stener out of the tail of his eye--anundersized, peaked, and sallow little woman, whose clothes fitted herabominably. It was just like Stener to marry a woman like that, hethought. The scrubby matches of the socially unelect or unfit alwaysinterested, though they did not always amuse, him. Mrs. Stener had noaffection for Cowperwood, of course, looking on him, as she did, as theunscrupulous cause of her husband's downfall. They were now quite pooragain, about to move from their big house into cheaper quarters; andthis was not pleasing for her to contemplate. 

Judge Payderson came in after a time, accompanied by his undersized butstout court attendant, who looked more like a pouter-pigeon than a humanbeing; and as they came, Bailiff Sparkheaver rapped on the judge's desk, beside which he had been slumbering, and mumbled, "Please rise!" Theaudience arose, as is the rule of all courts. Judge Payderson stirredamong a number of briefs that were lying on his desk, and asked, briskly, "What's the first case, Mr. Protus?" He was speaking to hisclerk. 

During the long and tedious arrangement of the day's docket and whilethe various minor motions of lawyers were being considered, thiscourtroom scene still retained interest for Cowperwood. He was so eagerto win, so incensed at the outcome of untoward events which had broughthim here. He was always intensely irritated, though he did not showit, by the whole process of footing delays and queries and quibbles, bywhich legally the affairs of men were too often hampered. Law, if youhad asked him, and he had accurately expressed himself, was a mistformed out of the moods and the mistakes of men, which befogged the seaof life and prevented plain sailing for the little commercial and socialbarques of men; it was a miasma of misinterpretation where the illsof life festered, and also a place where the accidentally wounded wereground between the upper and the nether millstones of force or chance;it was a strange, weird, interesting, and yet futile battle of witswhere the ignorant and the incompetent and the shrewd and the angry andthe weak were made pawns and shuttlecocks for men--lawyers, who wereplaying upon their moods, their vanities, their desires, and theirnecessities. It was an unholy and unsatisfactory disrupting and delayingspectacle, a painful commentary on the frailties of life, and men, atrick, a snare, a pit and gin. In the hands of the strong, like himselfwhen he was at his best, the law was a sword and a shield, a trap toplace before the feet of the unwary; a pit to dig in the path of thosewho might pursue. It was anything you might choose to make of it--a doorto illegal opportunity; a cloud of dust to be cast in the eyes ofthose who might choose, and rightfully, to see; a veil to be droppedarbitrarily between truth and its execution, justice and its judgment, crime and punishment. Lawyers in the main were intellectual mercenariesto be bought and sold in any cause. It amused him to hear the ethicaland emotional platitudes of lawyers, to see how readily they wouldlie, steal, prevaricate, misrepresent in almost any cause and for anypurpose. Great lawyers were merely great unscrupulous subtleties, like himself, sitting back in dark, close-woven lairs like spiders andawaiting the approach of unwary human flies. Life was at best a dark, inhuman, unkind, unsympathetic struggle built of cruelties and the law, and its lawyers were the most despicable representatives of the wholeunsatisfactory mess. Still he used law as he would use any other trap orweapon to rid him of a human ill; and as for lawyers, he picked themup as he would any club or knife wherewith to defend himself. He had noparticular respect for any of them--not even Harper Steger, though heliked him. They were tools to be used--knives, keys, clubs, anythingyou will; but nothing more. When they were through they were paidand dropped--put aside and forgotten. As for judges, they were merelyincompetent lawyers, at a rule, who were shelved by some fortunate turnof chance, and who would not, in all likelihood, be as efficient as thelawyers who pleaded before them if they were put in the same position. He had no respect for judges--he knew too much about them. He knew howoften they were sycophants, political climbers, political hacks, tools, time-servers, judicial door-mats lying before the financially andpolitically great and powerful who used them as such. Judges werefools, as were most other people in this dusty, shifty world. Pah! Hisinscrutable eyes took them all in and gave no sign. His only safety lay, he thought, in the magnificent subtley of his own brain, and nowhereelse. You could not convince Cowperwood of any great or inherent virtuein this mortal scheme of things. He knew too much; he knew himself. 

When the judge finally cleared away the various minor motions pending, he ordered his clerk to call the case of the City of Philadelphiaversus Frank A. Cowperwood, which was done in a clear voice. Both DennisShannon, the new district attorney, and Steger, were on their feet atonce. Steger and Cowperwood, together with Shannon and Strobik, whohad now come in and was standing as the representative of the State ofPennsylvania--the complainant--had seated themselves at the long tableinside the railing which inclosed the space before the judge's desk. Steger proposed to Judge Payderson, for effect's sake more than anythingelse, that this indictment be quashed, but was overruled. 

A jury to try the case was now quickly impaneled--twelve men out ofthe usual list called to serve for the month--and was then ready to bechallenged by the opposing counsel. The business of impaneling ajury was a rather simple thing so far as this court was concerned. Itconsisted in the mandarin-like clerk taking the names of all the jurorscalled to serve in this court for the month--some fifty in all--andputting them, each written on a separate slip of paper, in a whirlingdrum, spinning it around a few times, and then lifting out the firstslip which his hand encountered, thus glorifying chance and settling onwho should be juror No. 1. His hand reaching in twelve times drew outthe names of the twelve jurymen, who as their names were called, wereordered to take their places in the jury-box. 

Cowperwood observed this proceeding with a great deal of interest. Whatcould be more important than the men who were going to try him? Theprocess was too swift for accurate judgment, but he received a faintimpression of middle-class men. One man in particular, however, anold man of sixty-five, with iron-gray hair and beard, shaggy eyebrows, sallow complexion, and stooped shoulders, struck him as having thatkindness of temperament and breadth of experience which might undercertain circumstances be argumentatively swayed in his favor. Another, a small, sharp-nosed, sharp-chinned commercial man of some kind, heimmediately disliked. 

"I hope I don't have to have that man on my jury, " he said to Steger, quietly. 

"You don't, " replied Steger. "I'll challenge him. We have the rightto fifteen peremptory challenges on a case like this, and so has theprosecution. "

When the jury-box was finally full, the two lawyers waited for the clerkto bring them the small board upon which slips of paper bearing thenames of the twelve jurors were fastened in rows in order of theirselection--jurors one, two, and three being in the first row; four, five, and six in the second, and so on. It being the prerogative of theattorney for the prosecution to examine and challenge the jurors first, Shannon arose, and, taking the board, began to question them as to theirtrades or professions, their knowledge of the case before the court, andtheir possible prejudice for or against the prisoner. 

It was the business of both Steger and Shannon to find men who knew alittle something of finance and could understand a peculiar situationof this kind without any of them (looking at it from Steger's point ofview) having any prejudice against a man's trying to assist himself byreasonable means to weather a financial storm or (looking at it fromShannon's point of view) having any sympathy with such means, if theybore about them the least suspicion of chicanery, jugglery, or dishonestmanipulation of any kind. As both Shannon and Steger in due courseobserved for themselves in connection with this jury, it was composed ofthat assorted social fry which the dragnets of the courts, cast into theocean of the city, bring to the surface for purposes of this sort. It was made up in the main of managers, agents, tradesmen, editors, engineers, architects, furriers, grocers, traveling salesmen, authors, and every other kind of working citizen whose experience had fittedhim for service in proceedings of this character. Rarely would you havefound a man of great distinction; but very frequently a group of men whowere possessed of no small modicum of that interesting quality known ashard common sense. 

Throughout all this Cowperwood sat quietly examining the men. A youngflorist, with a pale face, a wide speculative forehead, and anemichands, struck him as being sufficiently impressionable to his personalcharm to be worth while. He whispered as much to Steger. There was ashrewd Jew, a furrier, who was challenged because he had read all of thenews of the panic and had lost two thousand dollars in street-railwaystocks. There was a stout wholesale grocer, with red cheeks, blue eyes, and flaxen hair, who Cowperwood said he thought was stubborn. He waseliminated. There was a thin, dapper manager of a small retail clothingstore, very anxious to be excused, who declared, falsely, that hedid not believe in swearing by the Bible. Judge Payderson, eyeing himseverely, let him go. There were some ten more in all--men who knewof Cowperwood, men who admitted they were prejudiced, men who werehidebound Republicans and resentful of this crime, men who knewStener--who were pleasantly eliminated. 

By twelve o'clock, however, a jury reasonably satisfactory to both sideshad been chosen. 

Chapter XLI

At two o'clock sharp Dennis Shannon, as district attorney, began hisopening address. He stated in a very simple, kindly way--for he had amost engaging manner--that the indictment as here presented charged Mr. Frank A. Cowperwood, who was sitting at the table inside the jury-rail, first with larceny, second with embezzlement, third with larceny asbailee, and fourth with embezzlement of a certain sum of money--aspecific sum, to wit, sixty thousand dollars--on a check given him(drawn to his order) October 9, 1871, which was intended to reimbursehim for a certain number of certificates of city loan, which he asagent or bailee of the check was supposed to have purchased for thecity sinking-fund on the order of the city treasurer (under some form ofagreement which had been in existence between them, and which hadbeen in force for some time)--said fund being intended to take upsuch certificates as they might mature in the hands of holders and bepresented for payment--for which purpose, however, the check in questionhad never been used. 

"Now, gentlemen, " said Mr. Shannon, very quietly, "before we go intothis very simple question of whether Mr. Cowperwood did or did not onthe date in question get from the city treasurer sixty thousand dollars, for which he made no honest return, let me explain to you just whatthe people mean when they charge him first with larceny, second withembezzlement, third with larceny as bailee, and fourth with embezzlementon a check. Now, as you see, there are four counts here, as we lawyersterm them, and the reason there are four counts is as follows: A man maybe guilty of larceny and embezzlement at the same time, or of larceny orembezzlement separately, and without being guilty of the other, and thedistrict attorney representing the people might be uncertain, not thathe was not guilty of both, but that it might not be possible to presentthe evidence under one count, so as to insure his adequate punishmentfor a crime which in a way involved both. In such cases, gentlemen, itis customary to indict a man under separate counts, as has been donein this case. Now, the four counts in this case, in a way, overlap andconfirm each other, and it will be your duty, after we have explainedtheir nature and character and presented the evidence, to say whetherthe defendant is guilty on one count or the other, or on two or three ofthe counts, or on all four, just as you see fit and proper--or, to putit in a better way, as the evidence warrants. Larceny, as you may ormay not know, is the act of taking away the goods or chattels of anotherwithout his knowledge or consent, and embezzlement is the fraudulentappropriation to one's own use of what is intrusted to one's care andmanagement, especially money. Larceny as bailee, on the other hand, is simply a more definite form of larceny wherein one fixes the act ofcarrying away the goods of another without his knowledge or consent onthe person to whom the goods were delivered in trust that is, the agentor bailee. Embezzlement on a check, which constitutes the fourth charge, is simply a more definite form of fixing charge number two in an exactway and signifies appropriating the money on a check given for a certaindefinite purpose. All of these charges, as you can see, gentlemen, arein a way synonymous. They overlap and overlay each other. The people, through their representative, the district attorney, contend that Mr. Cowperwood, the defendant here, is guilty of all four charges. So now, gentlemen, we will proceed to the history of this crime, which proves tome as an individual that this defendant has one of the most subtle anddangerous minds of the criminal financier type, and we hope by witnessesto prove that to you, also. "

Shannon, because the rules of evidence and court procedure here admittedof no interruption of the prosecution in presenting a case, then wenton to describe from his own point of view how Cowperwood had firstmet Stener; how he had wormed himself into his confidence; how littlefinancial knowledge Stener had, and so forth; coming down finally tothe day the check for sixty thousand dollars was given Cowperwood; howStener, as treasurer, claimed that he knew nothing of its delivery, which constituted the base of the charge of larceny; how Cowperwood, having it, misappropriated the certificates supposed to have beenpurchased for the sinking-fund, if they were purchased at all--all ofwhich Shannon said constituted the crimes with which the defendant wascharged, and of which he was unquestionably guilty. 

"We have direct and positive evidence of all that we have thus farcontended, gentlemen, " Mr. Shannon concluded violently. "This is not amatter of hearsay or theory, but of fact. You will be shown by directtestimony which cannot be shaken just how it was done. If, after youhave heard all this, you still think this man is innocent--that he didnot commit the crimes with which he is charged--it is your business toacquit him. On the other hand, if you think the witnesses whom we shallput on the stand are telling the truth, then it is your business toconvict him, to find a verdict for the people as against the defendant. I thank you for your attention. "

The jurors stirred comfortably and took positions of ease, in which theythought they were to rest for the time; but their idle comfort was ofshort duration for Shannon now called out the name of George W. Stener, who came hurrying forward very pale, very flaccid, very tired-looking. His eyes, as he took his seat in the witness-chair, laying his hand onthe Bible and swearing to tell the truth, roved in a restless, nervousmanner. 

His voice was a little weak as he started to give his testimony. He toldfirst how he had met Cowperwood in the early months of 1866--he couldnot remember the exact day; it was during his first term as citytreasurer--he had been elected to the office in the fall of 1864. He hadbeen troubled about the condition of city loan, which was below par, and which could not be sold by the city legally at anything but par. Cowperwood had been recommended to him by some one--Mr. Strobik, he believed, though he couldn't be sure. It was the custom of citytreasurers to employ brokers, or a broker, in a crisis of this kind, and he was merely following what had been the custom. He went on todescribe, under steady promptings and questions from the incisive mindof Shannon, just what the nature of this first conversation was--heremembered it fairly well; how Mr. Cowperwood had said he thought hecould do what was wanted; how he had gone away and drawn up a plan orthought one out; and how he had returned and laid it before Stener. Under Shannon's skillful guidance Stener elucidated just what thisscheme was--which wasn't exactly so flattering to the honesty of men ingeneral as it was a testimonial to their subtlety and skill. 

After much discussion of Stener's and Cowperwood's relations thestory finally got down to the preceding October, when by reasonof companionship, long business understanding, mutually prosperousrelationship, etc. , the place bad been reached where, it was explained, Cowperwood was not only handling several millions of city loan annually, buying and selling for the city and trading in it generally, but in thebargain had secured one five hundred thousand dollars' worth of citymoney at an exceedingly low rate of interest, which was being investedfor himself and Stener in profitable street-car ventures of one kind andanother. Stener was not anxious to be altogether clear on this point;but Shannon, seeing that he was later to prosecute Stener himself forthis very crime of embezzlement, and that Steger would soon follow incross-examination, was not willing to let him be hazy. Shannon wanted tofix Cowperwood in the minds of the jury as a clever, tricky person, andby degrees he certainly managed to indicate a very subtle-minded man. Occasionally, as one sharp point after another of Cowperwood's skill wasbrought out and made moderately clear, one juror or another turned tolook at Cowperwood. And he noting this and in order to impress them allas favorably as possible merely gazed Stenerward with a steady air ofintelligence and comprehension. 

The examination now came down to the matter of the particular check forsixty thousand dollars which Albert Stires had handed Cowperwood on theafternoon--late--of October 9, 1871. Shannon showed Stener the checkitself. Had he ever seen it? Yes. Where? In the office of DistrictAttorney Pettie on October 20th, or thereabouts last. Was that the firsttime he had seen it? Yes. Had he ever heard about it before then? Yes. When? On October 10th last. Would he kindly tell the jury in his own wayjust how and under what circumstances he first heard of it then? Stenertwisted uncomfortably in his chair. It was a hard thing to do. It wasnot a pleasant commentary on his own character and degree of moralstamina, to say the least. However, he cleared his throat again andbegan a description of that small but bitter section of his life's dramain which Cowperwood, finding himself in a tight place and about tofail, had come to him at his office and demanded that he loan him threehundred thousand dollars more in one lump sum. 

There was considerable bickering just at this point between Steger andShannon, for the former was very anxious to make it appear that Stenerwas lying out of the whole cloth about this. Steger got in his objectionat this point, and created a considerable diversion from the main theme, because Stener kept saying he "thought" or he "believed. "

"Object!" shouted Steger, repeatedly. "I move that that be stricken fromthe record as incompetent, irrelevant, and immaterial. The witness isnot allowed to say what he thinks, and the prosecution knows it verywell. "

"Your honor, " insisted Shannon, "I am doing the best I can to have thewitness tell a plain, straightforward story, and I think that it isobvious that he is doing so. "

"Object!" reiterated Steger, vociferously. "Your honor, I insist thatthe district attorney has no right to prejudice the minds of the jury byflattering estimates of the sincerity of the witness. What he thinks ofthe witness and his sincerity is of no importance in this case. I mustask that your honor caution him plainly in this matter. "

"Objection sustained, " declared Judge Payderson, "the prosecution willplease be more explicit"; and Shannon went on with his case. 

Stener's testimony, in one respect, was most important, for it madeplain what Cowperwood did not want brought out--namely, that he andStener had had a dispute before this; that Stener had distinctly toldCowperwood that he would not loan him any more money; that Cowperwoodhad told Stener, on the day before he secured this check, and again onthat very day, that he was in a very desperate situation financially, and that if he were not assisted to the extent of three hundred thousanddollars he would fail, and that then both he and Stener would be ruined. On the morning of this day, according to Stener, he had sent Cowperwooda letter ordering him to cease purchasing city loan certificates for thesinking-fund. It was after their conversation on the same afternoon thatCowperwood surreptitiously secured the check for sixty thousanddollars from Albert Stires without his (Stener's) knowledge; and it wassubsequent to this latter again that Stener, sending Albert to demandthe return of the check, was refused, though the next day at fiveo'clock in the afternoon Cowperwood made an assignment. And thecertificates for which the check had been purloined were not in thesinking-fund as they should have been. This was dark testimony forCowperwood. 

If any one imagines that all this was done without many vehementobjections and exceptions made and taken by Steger, and subsequentlywhen he was cross-examining Stener, by Shannon, he errs greatly. Attimes the chamber was coruscating with these two gentlemen's bitterwrangles, and his honor was compelled to hammer his desk with his gavel, and to threaten both with contempt of court, in order to bring them to asense of order. Indeed while Payderson was highly incensed, the jury wasamused and interested. 

"You gentlemen will have to stop this, or I tell you now that you willboth be heavily fined. This is a court of law, not a bar-room. Mr. Steger, I expect you to apologize to me and your colleague at once. Mr. Shannon, I must ask that you use less aggressive methods. Your manneris offensive to me. It is not becoming to a court of law. I will notcaution either of you again. "

Both lawyers apologized as lawyers do on such occasions, but it reallymade but little difference. Their individual attitudes and moodscontinued about as before. 

"What did he say to you, " asked Shannon of Stener, after one of thesetroublesome interruptions, "on that occasion, October 9th last, whenhe came to you and demanded the loan of an additional three hundredthousand dollars? Give his words as near as you can remember--exactly, if possible. "

"Object!" interposed Steger, vigorously. "His exact words are notrecorded anywhere except in Mr. Stener's memory, and his memory ofthem cannot be admitted in this case. The witness has testified to thegeneral facts. "

Judge Payderson smiled grimly. "Objection overruled, " he returned. 

"Exception!" shouted Steger. 

"He said, as near as I can remember, " replied Stener, drumming on thearms of the witness-chair in a nervous way, "that if I didn't give himthree hundred thousand dollars he was going to fail, and I would be poorand go to the penitentiary. "

"Object!" shouted Stager, leaping to his feet. "Your honor, I objectto the whole manner in which this examination is being conducted by theprosecution. The evidence which the district attorney is here trying toextract from the uncertain memory of the witness is in defiance of alllaw and precedent, and has no definite bearing on the facts of the case, and could not disprove or substantiate whether Mr. Cowperwood thoughtor did not think that he was going to fail. Mr. Stener might give oneversion of this conversation or any conversation that took place at thistime, and Mr. Cowperwood another. As a matter of fact, their versionsare different. I see no point in Mr. Shannon's line of inquiry, unless it is to prejudice the jury's minds towards accepting certainallegations which the prosecution is pleased to make and which it cannotpossibly substantiate. I think you ought to caution the witness totestify only in regard to things that he recalls exactly, not to whathe thinks he remembers; and for my part I think that all that has beentestified to in the last five minutes might be well stricken out. "

"Objection overruled, " replied Judge Payderson, rather indifferently;and Steger who had been talking merely to overcome the weight ofStener's testimony in the minds of the jury, sat down. 

Shannon once more approached Stener. 

"Now, as near as you can remember, Mr. Stener, I wish you would tellthe jury what else it was that Mr. Cowperwood said on that occasion. Hecertainly didn't stop with the remark that you would be ruined and go tothe penitentiary. Wasn't there other language that was employed on thatoccasion?"

"He said, as far as I can remember, " replied Stener, "that there werea lot of political schemers who were trying to frighten me, that if Ididn't give him three hundred thousand dollars we would both be ruined, and that I might as well be tried for stealing a sheep as a lamb. "

"Ha!" yelled Shannon. "He said that, did he?"

"Yes, sir; he did, " said Stener. 

"How did he say it, exactly? What were his exact words?" Shannondemanded, emphatically, pointing a forceful forefinger at Stener inorder to key him up to a clear memory of what had transpired. 

"Well, as near as I can remember, he said just that, " replied Stener, vaguely. "You might as well be tried for stealing a sheep as a lamb. "

"Exactly!" exclaimed Shannon, whirling around past the jury to look atCowperwood. "I thought so. "

"Pure pyrotechnics, your honor, " said Steger, rising to his feet on theinstant. "All intended to prejudice the minds of the jury. Acting. I wish you would caution the counsel for the prosecution to confinehimself to the evidence in hand, and not act for the benefit of hiscase. "

The spectators smiled; and Judge Payderson, noting it, frowned severely. "Do you make that as an objection, Mr. Steger?" he asked. 

"I certainly do, your honor, " insisted Steger, resourcefully. 

"Objection overruled. Neither counsel for the prosecution nor for thedefense is limited to a peculiar routine of expression. "

Steger himself was ready to smile, but he did not dare to. 

Cowperwood fearing the force of such testimony and regretting it, stilllooked at Stener, pityingly. The feebleness of the man; the weakness ofthe man; the pass to which his cowardice had brought them both!

When Shannon was through bringing out this unsatisfactory data, Stegertook Stener in hand; but he could not make as much out of him as hehoped. In so far as this particular situation was concerned, Stenerwas telling the exact truth; and it is hard to weaken the effect of theexact truth by any subtlety of interpretation, though it can, sometimes, be done. With painstaking care Steger went over all the ground ofStener's long relationship with Cowperwood, and tried to make itappear that Cowperwood was invariably the disinterested agent--not theringleader in a subtle, really criminal adventure. It was hard to do, but he made a fine impression. Still the jury listened with skepticalminds. It might not be fair to punish Cowperwood for seizing withavidity upon a splendid chance to get rich quick, they thought; but itcertainly was not worth while to throw a veil of innocence over suchpalpable human cupidity. Finally, both lawyers were through with Stenerfor the time being, anyhow, and then Albert Stires was called to thestand. 

He was the same thin, pleasant, alert, rather agreeable soul that he hadbeen in the heyday of his clerkly prosperity--a little paler now, butnot otherwise changed. His small property had been saved for him byCowperwood, who had advised Steger to inform the Municipal ReformAssociation that Stires' bondsmen were attempting to sequestrate it fortheir own benefit, when actually it should go to the city if therewere any real claim against him--which there was not. That watchfulorganization had issued one of its numerous reports covering thispoint, and Albert had had the pleasure of seeing Strobik and the otherswithdraw in haste. Naturally he was grateful to Cowperwood, even thoughonce he had been compelled to cry in vain in his presence. He wasanxious now to do anything he could to help the banker, but hisnaturally truthful disposition prevented him from telling anythingexcept the plain facts, which were partly beneficial and partly not. 

Stires testified that he recalled Cowperwood's saying that he hadpurchased the certificates, that he was entitled to the money, thatStener was unduly frightened, and that no harm would come to him, Albert. He identified certain memoranda in the city treasurer's books, which were produced, as being accurate, and others in Cowperwood'sbooks, which were also produced, as being corroborative. His testimonyas to Stener's astonishment on discovering that his chief clerk hadgiven Cowperwood a check was against the latter; but Cowperwood hoped toovercome the effect of this by his own testimony later. 

Up to now both Steger and Cowperwood felt that they were doing fairlywell, and that they need not be surprised if they won their case. 

Chapter XLII

The trial moved on. One witness for the prosecution after anotherfollowed until the State had built up an arraignment that satisfiedShannon that he had established Cowperwood's guilt, whereupon heannounced that he rested. Steger at once arose and began a long argumentfor the dismissal of the case on the ground that there was no evidenceto show this, that and the other, but Judge Payderson would have none ofit. He knew how important the matter was in the local political world. 

"I don't think you had better go into all that now, Mr. Steger, " hesaid, wearily, after allowing him to proceed a reasonable distance. "Iam familiar with the custom of the city, and the indictment as here madedoes not concern the custom of the city. Your argument is with the jury, not with me. I couldn't enter into that now. You may renew your motionat the close of the defendants' case. Motion denied. "

District-Attorney Shannon, who had been listening attentively, sat down. Steger, seeing there was no chance to soften the judge's mind by anysubtlety of argument, returned to Cowperwood, who smiled at the result. 

"We'll just have to take our chances with the jury, " he announced. 

"I was sure of it, " replied Cowperwood. 

Steger then approached the jury, and, having outlined the case brieflyfrom his angle of observation, continued by telling them what he wassure the evidence would show from his point of view. 

"As a matter of fact, gentlemen, there is no essential difference inthe evidence which the prosecution can present and that which we, thedefense, can present. We are not going to dispute that Mr. Cowperwoodreceived a check from Mr. Stener for sixty thousand dollars, or thathe failed to put the certificate of city loan which that sum of moneyrepresented, and to which he was entitled in payment as agent, in thesinking-fund, as the prosecution now claims he should have done; butwe are going to claim and prove also beyond the shadow of a reasonabledoubt that he had a right, as the agent of the city, doing business withthe city through its treasury department for four years, to withhold, under an agreement which he had with the city treasurer, all paymentsof money and all deposits of certificates in the sinking-fund until thefirst day of each succeeding month--the first month following any giventransaction. As a matter of fact we can and will bring many traders andbankers who have had dealings with the city treasury in the past in justthis way to prove this. The prosecution is going to ask you to believethat Mr. Cowperwood knew at the time he received this check that he wasgoing to fail; that he did not buy the certificates, as he claimed, withthe view of placing them in the sinking-fund; and that, knowing hewas going to fail, and that he could not subsequently deposit them, hedeliberately went to Mr. Albert Stires, Mr. Stener's secretary, toldhim that he had purchased such certificates, and on the strength of afalsehood, implied if not actually spoken, secured the check, and walkedaway. 

"Now, gentlemen, I am not going to enter into a long-winded discussionof these points at this time, since the testimony is going to show veryrapidly what the facts are. We have a number of witnesses here, andwe are all anxious to have them heard. What I am going to ask you toremember is that there is not one scintilla of testimony outside of thatwhich may possibly be given by Mr. George W. Stener, which will showeither that Mr. Cowperwood knew, at the time he called on the citytreasurer, that he was going to fail, or that he had not purchased thecertificates in question, or that he had not the right to withholdthem from the sinking-fund as long as he pleased up to the first ofthe month, the time he invariably struck a balance with the city. Mr. Stener, the ex-city treasurer, may possibly testify one way. Mr. Cowperwood, on his own behalf, will testify another. It will then be foryou gentlemen to decide between them, to decide which one you preferto believe--Mr. George W. Stener, the ex-city treasurer, the formercommercial associate of Mr. Cowperwood, who, after years and years ofprofit, solely because of conditions of financial stress, fire, andpanic, preferred to turn on his one-time associate from whose labors hehad reaped so much profit, or Mr. Frank A. Cowperwood, the well-knownbanker and financier, who did his best to weather the storm alone, whofulfilled to the letter every agreement he ever had with the city, whohas even until this hour been busy trying to remedy the unfair financialdifficulties forced upon him by fire and panic, and who only yesterdaymade an offer to the city that, if he were allowed to continue inuninterrupted control of his affairs he would gladly repay as quickly aspossible every dollar of his indebtedness (which is really not all his), including the five hundred thousand dollars under discussion between himand Mr. Stener and the city, and so prove by his works, not talk, thatthere was no basis for this unfair suspicion of his motives. As youperhaps surmise, the city has not chosen to accept his offer, and Ishall try and tell you why later, gentlemen. For the present we willproceed with the testimony, and for the defense all I ask is that yougive very close attention to all that is testified to here to-day. Listen very carefully to Mr. W. C. Davison when he is put on the stand. Listen equally carefully to Mr. Cowperwood when we call him to testify. Follow the other testimony closely, and then you will be able to judgefor yourselves. See if you can distinguish a just motive for thisprosecution. I can't. I am very much obliged to you for listening to me, gentlemen, so attentively. "

He then put on Arthur Rivers, who had acted for Cowperwood on 'changeas special agent during the panic, to testify to the large quantitiesof city loan he had purchased to stay the market; and then after him, Cowperwood's brothers, Edward and Joseph, who testified to instructionsreceived from Rivers as to buying and selling city loan on thatoccasion--principally buying. 

The next witness was President W. C. Davison of the Girard NationalBank. He was a large man physically, not so round of body as full andbroad. His shoulders and chest were ample. He had a big blond head, withan ample breadth of forehead, which was high and sane-looking. He hada thick, squat nose, which, however, was forceful, and thin, firm, evenlips. There was the faintest touch of cynical humor in his hard blueeyes at times; but mostly he was friendly, alert, placid-looking, without seeming in the least sentimental or even kindly. His business, as one could see plainly, was to insist on hard financial facts, andone could see also how he would naturally be drawn to Frank AlgernonCowperwood without being mentally dominated or upset by him. As he tookthe chair very quietly, and yet one might say significantly, it wasobvious that he felt that this sort of legal-financial palaver was abovethe average man and beneath the dignity of a true financier--in otherwords, a bother. The drowsy Sparkheaver holding up a Bible beside himfor him to swear by might as well have been a block of wood. His oathwas a personal matter with him. It was good business to tell the truthat times. His testimony was very direct and very simple. 

He had known Mr. Frank Algernon Cowperwood for nearly ten years. Hehad done business with or through him nearly all of that time. He knewnothing of his personal relations with Mr. Stener, and did not knowMr. Stener personally. As for the particular check of sixty thousanddollars--yes, he had seen it before. It had come into the bank onOctober 10th along with other collateral to offset an overdraft on thepart of Cowperwood & Co. It was placed to the credit of Cowperwood &Co. On the books of the bank, and the bank secured the cash through theclearing-house. No money was drawn out of the bank by Cowperwood & Co. After that to create an overdraft. The bank's account with Cowperwoodwas squared. 

Nevertheless, Mr. Cowperwood might have drawn heavily, and nothing wouldhave been thought of it. Mr. Davison did not know that Mr. Cowperwoodwas going to fail--did not suppose that he could, so quickly. He hadfrequently overdrawn his account with the bank; as a matter of fact, it was the regular course of his business to overdraw it. It kept hisassets actively in use, which was the height of good business. Hisoverdrafts were protected by collateral, however, and it was his customto send bundles of collateral or checks, or both, which were variouslydistributed to keep things straight. Mr. Cowperwood's account was thelargest and most active in the bank, Mr. Davison kindly volunteered. When Mr. Cowperwood had failed there had been over ninety thousanddollars' worth of certificates of city loan in the bank's possessionwhich Mr Cowperwood had sent there as collateral. Shannon, oncross-examination, tried to find out for the sake of the effect on thejury, whether Mr. Davison was not for some ulterior motive especiallyfavorable to Cowperwood. It was not possible for him to do that. Stegerfollowed, and did his best to render the favorable points made by Mr. Davison in Cowperwood's behalf perfectly clear to the jury by having himrepeat them. Shannon objected, of course, but it was of no use. Stegermanaged to make his point. 

He now decided to have Cowperwood take the stand, and at the mention ofhis name in this connection the whole courtroom bristled. 

Cowperwood came forward briskly and quickly. He was so calm, so jaunty, so defiant of life, and yet so courteous to it. These lawyers, thisjury, this straw-and-water judge, these machinations of fate, did notbasically disturb or humble or weaken him. He saw through the mentalequipment of the jury at once. He wanted to assist his counsel indisturbing and confusing Shannon, but his reason told him that only anindestructible fabric of fact or seeming would do it. He believed in thefinancial rightness of the thing he had done. He was entitled to do it. Life was war--particularly financial life; and strategy was its keynote, its duty, its necessity. Why should he bother about petty, picayuneminds which could not understand this? He went over his history forSteger and the jury, and put the sanest, most comfortable light on itthat he could. He had not gone to Mr. Stener in the first place, hesaid--he had been called. He had not urged Mr. Stener to anything. Hehad merely shown him and his friends financial possibilities which theywere only too eager to seize upon. And they had seized upon them. (Itwas not possible for Shannon to discover at this period how subtly hehad organized his street-car companies so that he could have "shakenout" Stener and his friends without their being able to voice a singleprotest, so he talked of these things as opportunities which he had madefor Stener and others. Shannon was not a financier, neither wasSteger. They had to believe in a way, though they doubted it, partly--particularly Shannon. ) He was not responsible for the customprevailing in the office of the city treasurer, he said. He was a bankerand broker. 

The jury looked at him, and believed all except this matter of thesixty-thousand-dollar check. When it came to that he explained it allplausibly enough. When he had gone to see Stener those several lastdays, he had not fancied that he was really going to fail. He hadasked Stener for some money, it is true--not so very much, all thingsconsidered--one hundred and fifty thousand dollars; but, as Stenershould have testified, he (Cowperwood) was not disturbed in his manner. Stener had merely been one resource of his. He was satisfied at thattime that he had many others. He had not used the forceful language ormade the urgent appeal which Stener said he had, although he had pointedout to Stener that it was a mistake to become panic-stricken, also towithhold further credit. It was true that Stener was his easiest, hisquickest resource, but not his only one. He thought, as a matter offact, that his credit would be greatly extended by his principal moneyfriends if necessary, and that he would have ample time to patch up hisaffairs and keep things going until the storm should blow over. He hadtold Stener of his extended purchase of city loan to stay the market onthe first day of the panic, and of the fact that sixty thousand dollarswas due him. Stener had made no objection. It was just possible thathe was too mentally disturbed at the time to pay close attention. Afterthat, to his, Cowperwood's, surprise, unexpected pressure on greatfinancial houses from unexpected directions had caused them to be notwillingly but unfortunately severe with him. This pressure, comingcollectively the next day, had compelled him to close his doors, thoughhe had not really expected to up to the last moment. His call for thesixty-thousand-dollar check at the time had been purely fortuitous. Heneeded the money, of course, but it was due him, and his clerks wereall very busy. He merely asked for and took it personally to save time. Stener knew if it had been refused him he would have brought suit. Thematter of depositing city loan certificates in the sinking-fund, when purchased for the city, was something to which he never gave anypersonal attention whatsoever. His bookkeeper, Mr. Stapley, attended toall that. He did not know, as a matter of fact, that they had not beendeposited. (This was a barefaced lie. He did know. ) As for the checkbeing turned over to the Girard National Bank, that was fortuitous. It might just as well have been turned over to some other bank if theconditions had been different. 

Thus on and on he went, answering all of Steger's and Shannon'ssearching questions with the most engaging frankness, and you could havesworn from the solemnity with which he took it all--the serious businessattention--that he was the soul of so-called commercial honor. And tosay truly, he did believe in the justice as well as the necessity andthe importance of all that he had done and now described. He wanted thejury to see it as he saw it--put itself in his place and sympathize withhim. 

He was through finally, and the effect on the jury of his testimony andhis personality was peculiar. Philip Moultrie, juror No. 1, decided thatCowperwood was lying. He could not see how it was possible that he couldnot know the day before that he was going to fail. He must have known, he thought. Anyhow, the whole series of transactions between himand Stener seemed deserving of some punishment, and all during thistestimony he was thinking how, when he got in the jury-room, he wouldvote guilty. He even thought of some of the arguments he would use toconvince the others that Cowperwood was guilty. Juror No. 2, on thecontrary, Simon Glassberg, a clothier, thought he understood how itall came about, and decided to vote for acquittal. He did not thinkCowperwood was innocent, but he did not think he deserved to bepunished. Juror No. 3, Fletcher Norton, an architect, thought Cowperwoodwas guilty, but at the same time that he was too talented to be sent toprison. Juror No. 4, Charles Hillegan, an Irishman, a contractor, anda somewhat religious-minded person, thought Cowperwood was guilty andought to be punished. Juror No. 5, Philip Lukash, a coal merchant, thought he was guilty. Juror No. 6, Benjamin Fraser, a mining expert, thought he was probably guilty, but he could not be sure. Uncertainwhat he would do, juror No. 7, J. J. Bridges, a broker in Third Street, small, practical, narrow, thought Cowperwood was shrewd and guilty anddeserved to be punished. He would vote for his punishment. Juror No. 8, Guy E. Tripp, general manager of a small steamboat company, wasuncertain. Juror No. 9, Joseph Tisdale, a retired glue manufacturer, thought Cowperwood was probably guilty as charged, but to Tisdale itwas no crime. Cowperwood was entitled to do as he had done under thecircumstances. Tisdale would vote for his acquittal. Juror No. 10, Richard Marsh, a young florist, was for Cowperwood in a sentimental way. He had, as a matter of fact, no real convictions. Juror No. 11, RichardWebber, a grocer, small financially, but heavy physically, was forCowperwood's conviction. He thought him guilty. Juror No. 12, WashingtonB. Thomas, a wholesale flour merchant, thought Cowperwood was guilty, but believed in a recommendation to mercy after pronouncing him so. Menought to be reformed, was his slogan. 

So they stood, and so Cowperwood left them, wondering whether any of histestimony had had a favorable effect. 

Chapter XLIII

Since it is the privilege of the lawyer for the defense to address thejury first, Steger bowed politely to his colleague and came forward. Putting his hands on the jury-box rail, he began in a very quiet, modest, but impressive way:

"Gentlemen of the jury, my client, Mr. Frank Algernon Cowperwood, awell-known banker and financier of this city, doing business in ThirdStreet, is charged by the State of Pennsylvania, represented by thedistrict attorney of this district, with fraudulently transferring fromthe treasury of the city of Philadelphia to his own purse the sum ofsixty thousand dollars, in the form of a check made out to his order, dated October 9, 1871, and by him received from one Albert Stires, theprivate secretary and head bookkeeper of the treasurer of this city, at the time in question. Now, gentlemen, what are the facts in thisconnection? You have heard the various witnesses and know the generaloutlines of the story. Take the testimony of George W. Stener, to beginwith. He tells you that sometime back in the year 1866 he was greatly inneed of some one, some banker or broker, who would tell him how to bringcity loan, which was selling very low at the time, to par--who would notonly tell him this, but proceed to demonstrate that his knowledge wasaccurate by doing it. Mr. Stener was an inexperienced man at the timein the matter of finance. Mr. Cowperwood was an active young man withan enviable record as a broker and a trader on 'change. He proceededto demonstrate to Mr. Stener not only in theory, but in fact, how thisthing of bringing city loan to par could be done. He made an arrangementat that time with Mr. Stener, the details of which you have heard fromMr. Stener himself, the result of which was that a large amount of cityloan was turned over to Mr. Cowperwood by Mr. Stener for sale, and byadroit manipulation--methods of buying and selling which need not begone into here, but which are perfectly sane and legitimate in the worldin which Mr. Cowperwood operated, did bring that loan to par, and keptit there year after year as you have all heard here testified to. 

"Now what is the bone of contention here, gentlemen, the significantfact which brings Mr. Stener into this court at this time charging hisold-time agent and broker with larceny and embezzlement, and allegingthat he has transferred to his own use without a shadow of return sixtythousand dollars of the money which belongs to the city treasury? Whatis it? Is it that Mr. Cowperwood secretly, with great stealth, as itwere, at some time or other, unknown to Mr. Stener or to his assistants, entered the office of the treasurer and forcibly, and with criminalintent, carried away sixty thousand dollars' worth of the city's money?Not at all. The charge is, as you have heard the district attorneyexplain, that Mr. Cowperwood came in broad daylight at between four andfive o'clock of the afternoon preceeding the day of his assignment; wascloseted with Mr. Stener for a half or three-quarters of an hour; cameout; explained to Mr. Albert Stires that he had recently bought sixtythousand dollars' worth of city loan for the city sinking-fund, forwhich he had not been paid; asked that the amount be credited on thecity's books to him, and that he be given a check, which was his due, and walked out. Anything very remarkable about that, gentlemen? Anythingvery strange? Has it been testified here to-day that Mr. Cowperwood wasnot the agent of the city for the transaction of just such business ashe said on that occasion that he had transacted? Did any one say here onthe witness-stand that he had not bought city loan as he said he had?

"Why is it then that Mr. Stener charges Mr. Cowperwood with larcenouslysecuring and feloniously disposing of a check for sixty thousand dollarsfor certificates which he had a right to buy, and which it has not beencontested here that he did buy? The reason lies just here--listen--justhere. At the time my client asked for the check and took it away withhim and deposited it in his own bank to his own account, he failed, sothe prosecution insists, to put the sixty thousand dollars' worth ofcertificates for which he had received the check, in the sinking-fund;and having failed to do that, and being compelled by the pressure offinancial events the same day to suspend payment generally, he thereby, according to the prosecution and the anxious leaders of theRepublican party in the city, became an embezzler, a thief, a this orthat--anything you please so long as you find a substitute for George W. Stener and the indifferent leaders of the Republican party in the eyesof the people. "

And here Mr. Steger proceeded boldly and defiantly to outline the entirepolitical situation as it had manifested itself in connection with theChicago fire, the subsequent panic and its political consequences, andto picture Cowperwood as the unjustly maligned agent, who before thefire was valuable and honorable enough to suit any of the politicalleaders of Philadelphia, but afterward, and when political defeatthreatened, was picked upon as the most available scapegoat anywherewithin reach. 

And it took him a half hour to do that. And afterward but only after hehad pointed to Stener as the true henchman and stalking horse, who had, in turn, been used by political forces above him to accomplish certainfinancial results, which they were not willing to have ascribed tothemselves, he continued with:

"But now, in the light of all this, only see how ridiculous all this is!How silly! Frank A. Cowperwood had always been the agent of the city inthese matters for years and years. He worked under certain ruleswhich he and Mr. Stener had agreed upon in the first place, and whichobviously came from others, who were above Mr. Stener, since they werehold-over customs and rules from administrations, which had been longbefore Mr. Stener ever appeared on the scene as city treasurer. One ofthem was that he could carry all transactions over until the first ofthe month following before he struck a balance. That is, he need not payany money over for anything to the city treasurer, need not send him anychecks or deposit any money or certificates in the sinking-fund untilthe first of the month because--now listen to this carefully, gentlemen;it is important--because his transactions in connection with city loanand everything else that he dealt in for the city treasurer were sonumerous, so swift, so uncalculated beforehand, that he had to have aloose, easy system of this kind in order to do his work properly--todo business at all. Otherwise he could not very well have worked to thebest advantage for Mr. Stener, or for any one else. It would have meanttoo much bookkeeping for him--too much for the city treasurer. Mr. Stener has testified to that in the early part of his story. AlbertStires has indicated that that was his understanding of it. Well, thenwhat? Why, just this. Would any jury suppose, would any sane businessman believe that if such were the case Mr. Cowperwood would be runningpersonally with all these items of deposit, to the different banks orthe sinking-fund or the city treasurer's office, or would be saying tohis head bookkeeper, 'Here, Stapley, here is a check for sixty thousanddollars. See that the certificates of loan which this represents are putin the sinking-fund to-day'? And why not? What a ridiculous suppositionany other supposition is! As a matter of course and as had always beenthe case, Mr. Cowperwood had a system. When the time came, this checkand these certificates would be automatically taken care of. He handedhis bookkeeper the check and forgot all about it. Would you imagine abanker with a vast business of this kind doing anything else?"

Mr. Steger paused for breath and inquiry, and then, having satisfiedhimself that his point had been sufficiently made, he continued:

"Of course the answer is that he knew he was going to fail. Well, Mr. Cowperwood's reply is that he didn't know anything of the sort. He haspersonally testified here that it was only at the last moment before itactually happened that he either thought or knew of such an occurrence. Why, then, this alleged refusal to let him have the check to which hewas legally entitled? I think I know. I think I can give a reason if youwill hear me out. "

Steger shifted his position and came at the jury from anotherintellectual angle:

"It was simply because Mr. George W. Stener at that time, owing toa recent notable fire and a panic, imagined for some reason--perhapsbecause Mr. Cowperwood cautioned him not to become frightened overlocal developments generally--that Mr. Cowperwood was going to close hisdoors; and having considerable money on deposit with him at a low rateof interest, Mr. Stener decided that Mr. Cowperwood must not have anymore money--not even the money that was actually due him for servicesrendered, and that had nothing whatsoever to do with the money loanedhim by Mr. Stener at two and one-half per cent. Now isn't that aridiculous situation? But it was because Mr. George W. Stener was filledwith his own fears, based on a fire and a panic which had absolutelynothing to do with Mr. Cowperwood's solvency in the beginning that hedecided not to let Frank A. Cowperwood have the money that was actuallydue him, because he, Stener, was criminally using the city's money tofurther his own private interests (through Mr. Cowperwood as a broker), and in danger of being exposed and possibly punished. Now where, I askyou, does the good sense of that decision come in? Is it apparent toyou, gentlemen? Was Mr. Cowperwood still an agent for the city at thetime he bought the loan certificates as here testified? He certainlywas. If so, was he entitled to that money? Who is going to stand up hereand deny it? Where is the question then, as to his right or his honestyin this matter? How does it come in here at all? I can tell you. Itsprang solely from one source and from nowhere else, and that is thedesire of the politicians of this city to find a scapegoat for theRepublican party. 

"Now you may think I am going rather far afield for an explanation ofthis very peculiar decision to prosecute Mr. Cowperwood, an agent of thecity, for demanding and receiving what actually belonged to him. ButI'm not. Consider the position of the Republican party at that time. Consider the fact that an exposure of the truth in regard to thedetails of a large defalcation in the city treasury would have a veryunsatisfactory effect on the election about to be held. The Republicanparty had a new city treasurer to elect, a new district attorney. Ithad been in the habit of allowing its city treasurers the privilege ofinvesting the funds in their possession at a low rate of interest forthe benefit of themselves and their friends. Their salaries were small. They had to have some way of eking out a reasonable existence. Was Mr. George Stener responsible for this custom of loaning out the city money?Not at all. Was Mr. Cowperwood? Not at all. The custom had been in voguelong before either Mr. Cowperwood or Mr. Stener came on the scene. Why, then, this great hue and cry about it now? The entire uproar sprangsolely from the fear of Mr. Stener at this juncture, the fear of thepoliticians at this juncture, of public exposure. No city treasurer hadever been exposed before. It was a new thing to face exposure, to facethe risk of having the public's attention called to a rather nefariouspractice of which Mr. Stener was taking advantage, that was all. A greatfire and a panic were endangering the security and well-being of manya financial organization in the city--Mr. Cowperwood's among others. It meant many possible failures, and many possible failures meant onepossible failure. If Frank A. Cowperwood failed, he would fail owing thecity of Philadelphia five hundred thousand dollars, borrowed from thecity treasurer at the very low rate of interest of two and one-half percent. Anything very detrimental to Mr. Cowperwood in that? Had he goneto the city treasurer and asked to be loaned money at two and one-halfper cent. ? If he had, was there anything criminal in it from a businesspoint of view? Isn't a man entitled to borrow money from any source hecan at the lowest possible rate of interest? Did Mr. Stener have to loanit to Mr. Cowperwood if he did not want to? As a matter of fact didn'the testify here to-day that he personally had sent for Mr. Cowperwoodin the first place? Why, then, in Heaven's name, this excited charge oflarceny, larceny as bailee, embezzlement, embezzlement on a check, etc. , etc. ?

"Once more, gentlemen, listen. I'll tell you why. The men who stoodbehind Stener, and whose bidding he was doing, wanted to make apolitical scapegoat of some one--of Frank Algernon Cowperwood, if theycouldn't get any one else. That's why. No other reason under God's bluesky, not one. Why, if Mr. Cowperwood needed more money just at that timeto tide him over, it would have been good policy for them to have givenit to him and hushed this matter up. It would have been illegal--thoughnot any more illegal than anything else that has ever been done in thisconnection--but it would have been safer. Fear, gentlemen, fear, lack ofcourage, inability to meet a great crisis when a great crisis appears, was all that really prevented them from doing this. They were afraid toplace confidence in a man who had never heretofore betrayed their trustand from whose loyalty and great financial ability they and the cityhad been reaping large profits. The reigning city treasurer of the timedidn't have the courage to go on in the face of fire and panic and therumors of possible failure, and stick by his illegal guns; and sohe decided to draw in his horns as testified here to-day--to ask Mr. Cowperwood to return all or at least a big part of the five hundredthousand dollars he had loaned him, and which Cowperwood had beenactually using for his, Stener's benefit, and to refuse him in additionthe money that was actually due him for an authorized purchase of cityloan. Was Cowperwood guilty as an agent in any of these transactions?Not in the least. Was there any suit pending to make him return the fivehundred thousand dollars of city money involved in his present failure?Not at all. It was simply a case of wild, silly panic on the part ofGeorge W. Stener, and a strong desire on the part of the Republicanparty leaders, once they discovered what the situation was, to find someone outside of Stener, the party treasurer, upon whom they could blamethe shortage in the treasury. You heard what Mr. Cowperwood testified tohere in this case to-day--that he went to Mr. Stener to forfend againstany possible action of this kind in the first place. And it was becauseof this very warning that Mr. Stener became wildly excited, lost hishead, and wanted Mr. Cowperwood to return him all his money, all thefive hundred thousand dollars he had loaned him at two and one-half percent. Isn't that silly financial business at the best? Wasn't that afine time to try to call a perfectly legal loan?

"But now to return to this particular check of sixty thousand dollars. When Mr. Cowperwood called that last afternoon before he failed, Mr. Stener testified that he told him that he couldn't have any more money, that it was impossible, and that then Mr. Cowperwood went out into hisgeneral office and without his knowledge or consent persuaded his chiefclerk and secretary, Mr. Albert Stires, to give him a check for sixtythousand dollars, to which he was not entitled and on which he, Stener, would have stopped payment if he had known. 

"What nonsense! Why didn't he know? The books were there, open to him. Mr. Stires told him the first thing the next morning. Mr. Cowperwoodthought nothing of it, for he was entitled to it, and could collect itin any court of law having jurisdiction in such cases, failure orno failure. It is silly for Mr. Stener to say he would have stoppedpayment. Such a claim was probably an after-thought of the next morningafter he had talked with his friends, the politicians, and was all apart, a trick, a trap, to provide the Republican party with a scapegoatat this time. Nothing more and nothing less; and you may be sure noone knew it better than the people who were most anxious to see Mr. Cowperwood convicted. "

Steger paused and looked significantly at Shannon. 

"Gentlemen of the jury [he finally concluded, quietly and earnestly], you are going to find, when you think it over in the jury-room thisevening, that this charge of larceny and larceny as bailee, andembezzlement of a check for sixty thousand dollars, which are containedin this indictment, and which represent nothing more than the eagereffort of the district attorney to word this one act in such a way thatit will look like a crime, represents nothing more than the excitedimagination of a lot of political refugees who are anxious to protecttheir own skirts at the expense of Mr. Cowperwood, and who care fornothing--honor, fair play, or anything else, so long as they are let offscot-free. They don't want the Republicans of Pennsylvania to think tooill of the Republican party management and control in this city. Theywant to protect George W. Stener as much as possible and to make apolitical scapegoat of my client. It can't be done, and it won't bedone. As honorable, intelligent men you won't permit it to be done. AndI think with that thought I can safely leave you. "

Steger suddenly turned from the jury-box and walked to his seat besideCowperwood, while Shannon arose, calm, forceful, vigorous, much younger. 

As between man and man, Shannon was not particularly opposed to the caseSteger had made out for Cowperwood, nor was he opposed to Cowperwood'shaving made money as he did. As a matter of fact, Shannon actuallythought that if he had been in Cowperwood's position he would havedone exactly the same thing. However, he was the newly elected districtattorney. He had a record to make; and, besides, the political powerswho were above him were satisfied that Cowperwood ought to be convictedfor the looks of the thing. Therefore he laid his hands firmly on therail at first, looked the jurors steadily in the eyes for a time, and, having framed a few thoughts in his mind began:

"Now, gentlemen of the jury, it seems to me that if we all pay strictattention to what has transpired here to-day, we will have no difficultyin reaching a conclusion; and it will be a very satisfactory one, ifwe all try to interpret the facts correctly. This defendant, Mr. Cowperwood, comes into this court to-day charged, as I have stated toyou before, with larceny, with larceny as bailee, with embezzlement, and with embezzlement of a specific check--namely, one dated October 9, 1871, drawn to the order of Frank A. Cowperwood & Company for the sumof sixty thousand dollars by the secretary of the city treasurer for thecity treasurer, and by him signed, as he had a perfect right to sign it, and delivered to the said Frank A. Cowperwood, who claims that he wasnot only properly solvent at the time, but had previously purchasedcertificates of city loan to the value of sixty thousand dollars, andhad at that time or would shortly thereafter, as was his custom, depositthem to the credit of the city in the city sinking-fund, and thus closewhat would ordinarily be an ordinary transaction--namely, that of FrankA. Cowperwood & Company as bankers and brokers for the city buying cityloan for the city, depositing it in the sinking-fund, and being promptlyand properly reimbursed. Now, gentlemen, what are the actual factsin this case? Was the said Frank A. Cowperwood & Company--there is nocompany, as you well know, as you have heard testified here to-day, onlyFrank A. Cowperwood--was the said Frank A. Cowperwood a fit person toreceive the check at this time in the manner he received it--that is, was he authorized agent of the city at the time, or was he not? Was hesolvent? Did he actually himself think he was going to fail, and wasthis sixty-thousand-dollar check a last thin straw which he was grabbingat to save his financial life regardless of what it involved legally, morally, or otherwise; or had he actually purchased certificates of cityloan to the amount he said he had in the way he said he had, at thetime he said he had, and was he merely collecting his honest due? Did heintend to deposit these certificates of loans in the city sinking-fund, as he said he would--as it was understood naturally and normally thathe would--or did he not? Were his relations with the city treasurer asbroker and agent the same as they had always been on the day that hesecured this particular check for sixty thousand dollars, or were theynot? Had they been terminated by a conversation fifteen minutes beforeor two days before or two weeks before--it makes no difference when, solong as they had been properly terminated--or had they not? A businessman has a right to abrogate an agreement at any time where there isno specific form of contract and no fixed period of operation enteredinto--as you all must know. You must not forget that in considering theevidence in this case. Did George W. Stener, knowing or suspecting thatFrank A. Cowperwood was in a tight place financially, unable to fulfillany longer properly and honestly the duties supposedly devolving onhim by this agreement, terminate it then and there on October 9, 1871, before this check for sixty thousand dollars was given, or did he not?Did Mr. Frank A. Cowperwood then and there, knowing that he was nolonger an agent of the city treasurer and the city, and knowing alsothat he was insolvent (having, as Mr. Stener contends, admitted to himthat he was so), and having no intention of placing the certificateswhich he subsequently declared he had purchased in the sinking-fund, goout into Mr. Stener's general office, meet his secretary, tell him hehad purchased sixty thousand dollars' worth of city loan, ask for thecheck, get it, put it in his pocket, walk off, and never make anyreturn of any kind in any manner, shape, or form to the city, and then, subsequently, twenty-four hours later, fail, owing this and five hundredthousand dollars more to the city treasury, or did he not? What arethe facts in this case? What have the witnesses testified to? What hasGeorge W. Stener testified to, Albert Stires, President Davison, Mr. Cowperwood himself? What are the interesting, subtle facts in this case, anyhow? Gentlemen, you have a very curious problem to decide. "

He paused and gazed at the jury, adjusting his sleeves as he did so, and looking as though he knew for certain that he was on the trail of aslippery, elusive criminal who was in a fair way to foist himself uponan honorable and decent community and an honorable and innocent jury asan honest man. 

Then he continued:

"Now, gentlemen, what are the facts? You can see for yourselves exactlyhow this whole situation has come about. You are sensible men. I don'tneed to tell you. Here are two men, one elected treasurer of the city ofPhiladelphia, sworn to guard the interests of the city and to manipulateits finances to the best advantage, and the other called in at a timeof uncertain financial cogitation to assist in unraveling a possiblydifficult financial problem; and then you have a case of a quiet, private financial understanding being reached, and of subsequent illegaldealings in which one man who is shrewder, wiser, more versed inthe subtle ways of Third Street leads the other along over seeminglycharming paths of fortunate investment into an accidental but none theless criminal mire of failure and exposure and public calumny and whatnot. And then they get to the place where the more vulnerable individualof the two--the man in the most dangerous position, the city treasurerof Philadelphia, no less--can no longer reasonably or, let us say, courageously, follow the other fellow; and then you have such aspectacle as was described here this afternoon in the witness-chair byMr. Stener--that is, you have a vicious, greedy, unmerciful financialwolf standing over a cowering, unsophisticated commercial lamb, andsaying to him, his white, shiny teeth glittering all the while, 'If youdon't advance me the money I ask for--the three hundred thousand dollarsI now demand--you will be a convict, your children will be thrown in thestreet, you and your wife and your family will be in poverty again, andthere will be no one to turn a hand for you. ' That is what Mr. Stenersays Mr. Cowperwood said to him. I, for my part, haven't a doubt in theworld that he did. Mr. Steger, in his very guarded references to hisclient, describes him as a nice, kind, gentlemanly agent, a brokermerely on whom was practically forced the use of five hundred thousanddollars at two and a half per cent. When money was bringing from ten tofifteen per cent. In Third Street on call loans, and even more. But Ifor one don't choose to believe it. The thing that strikes me asstrange in all of this is that if he was so nice and kind and gentle andremote--a mere hired and therefore subservient agent--how is it thathe could have gone to Mr. Stener's office two or three days before thematter of this sixty-thousand-dollar check came up and say to him, asMr. Stener testifies under oath that he did say to him, 'If you don'tgive me three hundred thousand dollars' worth more of the city's moneyat once, to-day, I will fail, and you will be a convict. You will goto the penitentiary. '? That's what he said to him. 'I will fail and youwill be a convict. They can't touch me, but they will arrest you. Iam an agent merely. ' Does that sound like a nice, mild, innocent, well-mannered agent, a hired broker, or doesn't it sound like a hard, defiant, contemptuous master--a man in control and ready to rule and winby fair means or foul?

"Gentlemen, I hold no brief for George W. Stener. In my judgment he isas guilty as his smug co-partner in crime--if not more so--this oilyfinancier who came smiling and in sheep's clothing, pointing out subtleways by which the city's money could be made profitable for both; butwhen I hear Mr. Cowperwood described as I have just heard him described, as a nice, mild, innocent agent, my gorge rises. Why, gentlemen, if youwant to get a right point of view on this whole proposition you willhave to go back about ten or twelve years and see Mr. George W. Steneras he was then, a rather poverty-stricken beginner in politics, andbefore this very subtle and capable broker and agent came along andpointed out ways and means by which the city's money could be madeprofitable; George W. Stener wasn't very much of a personage then, andneither was Frank A. Cowperwood when he found Stener newly elected tothe office of city treasurer. Can't you see him arriving at that timenice and fresh and young and well dressed, as shrewd as a fox, andsaying: 'Come to me. Let me handle city loan. Loan me the city's moneyat two per cent. Or less. ' Can't you hear him suggesting this? Can't yousee him?

"George W. Stener was a poor man, comparatively a very poor man, whenhe first became city treasurer. All he had was a small real-estateand insurance business which brought him in, say, twenty-five hundreddollars a year. He had a wife and four children to support, and he hadnever had the slightest taste of what for him might be called luxury orcomfort. Then comes Mr. Cowperwood--at his request, to be sure, but onan errand which held no theory of evil gains in Mr. Stener's mind at thetime--and proposes his grand scheme of manipulating all the city loanto their mutual advantage. Do you yourselves think, gentlemen, from whatyou have seen of George W. Stener here on the witness-stand, that it washe who proposed this plan of ill-gotten wealth to that gentleman overthere?"

He pointed to Cowperwood. 

"Does he look to you like a man who would be able to tell that gentlemananything about finance or this wonderful manipulation that followed?I ask you, does he look clever enough to suggest all the subtleties bywhich these two subsequently made so much money? Why, the statement ofthis man Cowperwood made to his creditors at the time of his failurehere a few weeks ago showed that he considered himself to be worth overone million two hundred and fifty thousand dollars, and he is only alittle over thirty-four years old to-day. How much was he worth at thetime he first entered business relations with the ex-city treasurer?Have you any idea? I can tell. I had the matter looked up almost a monthago on my accession to office. Just a little over two hundred thousanddollars, gentlemen--just a little over two hundred thousand dollars. Here is an abstract from the files of Dun & Company for that year. Nowyou can see how rapidly our Caesar has grown in wealth since then. You can see how profitable these few short years have been to him. WasGeorge W. Stener worth any such sum up to the time he was removed fromhis office and indicted for embezzlement? Was he? I have here a scheduleof his liabilities and assets made out at the time. You can see it foryourselves, gentlemen. Just two hundred and twenty thousand dollarsmeasured the sum of all his property three weeks ago; and it is anaccurate estimate, as I have reason to know. Why was it, do you suppose, that Mr. Cowperwood grew so fast in wealth and Mr. Stener so slowly?They were partners in crime. Mr. Stener was loaning Mr. Cowperwood vastsums of the city's money at two per cent. When call-rates for money inThird Street were sometimes as high as sixteen and seventeen per cent. Don't you suppose that Mr. Cowperwood sitting there knew how to use thisvery cheaply come-by money to the very best advantage? Does he look toyou as though he didn't? You have seen him on the witness-stand. Youhave heard him testify. Very suave, very straightforward-seeming, veryinnocent, doing everything as a favor to Mr. Stener and his friends, ofcourse, and yet making a million in a little over six years and allowingMr. Stener to make one hundred and sixty thousand dollars or less, for Mr. Stener had some little money at the time this partnership wasentered into--a few thousand dollars. "

Shannon now came to the vital transaction of October 9th, whenCowperwood called on Stener and secured the check for sixty thousanddollars from Albert Stires. His scorn for this (as he appeared to think)subtle and criminal transaction was unbounded. It was plain larceny, stealing, and Cowperwood knew it when he asked Stires for the check. 

"Think of it! [Shannon exclaimed, turning and looking squarely atCowperwood, who faced him quite calmly, undisturbed and unashamed. ]Think of it! Think of the colossal nerve of the man--the Machiavelliansubtlety of his brain. He knew he was going to fail. He knew aftertwo days of financial work--after two days of struggle to offset theprovidential disaster which upset his nefarious schemes--that he hadexhausted every possible resource save one, the city treasury, and thatunless he could compel aid there he was going to fail. He already owedthe city treasury five hundred thousand dollars. He had already used thecity treasurer as a cat's-paw so much, had involved him so deeply, thatthe latter, because of the staggering size of the debt, was becomingfrightened. Did that deter Mr. Cowperwood? Not at all. "

He shook his finger ominously in Cowperwood's face, and the latterturned irritably away. "He is showing off for the benefit of hisfuture, " he whispered to Steger. "I wish you could tell the jury that. "

"I wish I could, " replied Steger, smiling scornfully, "but my hour isover. "

"Why [continued Mr. Shannon, turning once more to the jury], think ofthe colossal, wolfish nerve that would permit a man to say to AlbertStires that he had just purchased sixty thousand dollars' worthadditional of city loan, and that he would then and there take the checkfor it! Had he actually purchased this city loan as he said he had?Who can tell? Could any human being wind through all the mazes of thecomplicated bookkeeping system which he ran, and actually tell? The bestanswer to that is that if he did purchase the certificates he intendedthat it should make no difference to the city, for he made no effortto put the certificates in the sinking-fund, where they belonged. Hiscounsel says, and he says, that he didn't have to until the first ofthe month, although the law says that he must do it at once, and he knewwell enough that legally he was bound to do it. His counsel says, and hesays, that he didn't know he was going to fail. Hence there was no needof worrying about it. I wonder if any of you gentlemen really believedthat? Had he ever asked for a check like that so quick before in hislife? In all the history of these nefarious transactions was thereanother incident like that? You know there wasn't. He had never before, on any occasion, asked personally for a check for anything in thisoffice, and yet on this occasion he did it. Why? Why should he ask forit this time? A few hours more, according to his own statement, wouldn'thave made any difference one way or the other, would it? He could havesent a boy for it, as usual. That was the way it had always been donebefore. Why anything different now? I'll tell you why! [Shannon suddenlyshouted, varying his voice tremendously. ] I'll tell you why! He knewthat he was a ruined man! He knew that his last semi-legitimate avenueof escape--the favor of George W. Stener--had been closed to him! Heknew that honestly, by open agreement, he could not extract anothersingle dollar from the treasury of the city of Philadelphia. He knewthat if he left the office without this check and sent a boy for it, thearoused city treasurer would have time to inform his clerks, andthat then no further money could be obtained. That's why! That's why, gentlemen, if you really want to know. 

"Now, gentlemen of the jury, I am about done with my arraignment of thisfine, honorable, virtuous citizen whom the counsel for the defense, Mr. Steger, tells you you cannot possibly convict without doing agreat injustice. All I have to say is that you look to me like sane, intelligent men--just the sort of men that I meet everywhere in theordinary walks of life, doing an honorable American business inan honorable American way. Now, gentlemen of the jury [he was verysoft-spoken now], all I have to say is that if, after all you have heardand seen here to-day, you still think that Mr. Frank A. Cowperwood isan honest, honorable man--that he didn't steal, willfully and knowingly, sixty thousand dollars from the Philadelphia city treasury; that he hadactually bought the certificates he said he had, and had intended to putthem in the sinking-fund, as he said he did, then don't you dare to doanything except turn him loose, and that speedily, so that he can goon back to-day into Third Street, and start to straighten out hismuch-entangled financial affairs. It is the only thing for honest, conscientious men to do--to turn him instantly loose into the heart ofthis community, so that some of the rank injustice that my opponent, Mr. Steger, alleges has been done him will be a little made up to him. Youowe him, if that is the way you feel, a prompt acknowledgment of hisinnocence. Don't worry about George W. Stener. His guilt is establishedby his own confession. He admits he is guilty. He will be sentencedwithout trial later on. But this man--he says he is an honest, honorableman. He says he didn't think he was going to fail. He says he used allthat threatening, compelling, terrifying language, not because he wasin danger of failing, but because he didn't want the bother of lookingfurther for aid. What do you think? Do you really think that hehad purchased sixty thousand dollars more of certificates for thesinking-fund, and that he was entitled to the money? If so, why didn'the put them in the sinking-fund? They're not there now, and the sixtythousand dollars is gone. Who got it? The Girard National Bank, where hewas overdrawn to the extent of one hundred thousand dollars! Did it getit and forty thousand dollars more in other checks and certificates?Certainly. Why? Do you suppose the Girard National Bank might be in anyway grateful for this last little favor before he closed his doors? Doyou think that President Davison, whom you saw here testifying so kindlyin this case feels at all friendly, and that that may possibly--Idon't say that it does--explain his very kindly interpretation of Mr. Cowperwood's condition? It might be. You can think as well along thatline as I can. Anyhow, gentlemen, President Davison says Mr. Cowperwoodis an honorable, honest man, and so does his counsel, Mr. Steger. Youhave heard the testimony. Now you think it over. If you want to turn himloose--turn him loose. [He waved his hand wearily. ] You're the judges. I wouldn't; but then I am merely a hard-working lawyer--one person, oneopinion. You may think differently--that's your business. [He waved hishand suggestively, almost contemptuously. ] However, I'm through, and Ithank you for your courtesy. Gentlemen, the decision rests with you. "

He turned away grandly, and the jury stirred--so did the idle spectatorsin the court. Judge Payderson sighed a sigh of relief. It was now quitedark, and the flaring gas forms in the court were all brightly lighted. Outside one could see that it was snowing. The judge stirred among hispapers wearily, and turning to the jurors solemnly, began his customaryexplanation of the law, after which they filed out to the jury-room. 

Cowperwood turned to his father who now came over across thefast-emptying court, and said:

"Well, we'll know now in a little while. "

"Yes, " replied Cowperwood, Sr. , a little wearily. "I hope it comes outright. I saw Butler back there a little while ago. "

"Did you?" queried Cowperwood, to whom this had a peculiar interest. 

"Yes, " replied his father. "He's just gone. "

So, Cowperwood thought, Butler was curious enough as to his fate to wantto come here and watch him tried. Shannon was his tool. Judge Paydersonwas his emissary, in a way. He, Cowperwood, might defeat him in thematter of his daughter, but it was not so easy to defeat him hereunless the jury should happen to take a sympathetic attitude. They mightconvict him, and then Butler's Judge Payderson would have the privilegeof sentencing him--giving him the maximum sentence. That would not be sonice--five years! He cooled a little as he thought of it, but there wasno use worrying about what had not yet happened. Steger came forward andtold him that his bail was now ended--had been the moment the jury leftthe room--and that he was at this moment actually in the care ofthe sheriff, of whom he knew--Sheriff Adlai Jaspers. Unless he wereacquitted by the jury, Steger added, he would have to remain in thesheriff's care until an application for a certificate of reasonabledoubt could be made and acted upon. 

"It would take all of five days, Frank, " Steger said, "but Jaspers isn'ta bad sort. He'd be reasonable. Of course if we're lucky you won't haveto visit him. You will have to go with this bailiff now, though. Then ifthings come out right we'll go home. Say, I'd like to win this case, "he said. "I'd like to give them the laugh and see you do it. I consideryou've been pretty badly treated, and I think I made that perfectlyclear. I can reverse this verdict on a dozen grounds if they happen todecide against you. "

He and Cowperwood and the latter's father now stalked off with thesheriff's subordinate--a small man by the name of "Eddie" Zanders, whohad approached to take charge. They entered a small room called the penat the back of the court, where all those on trial whose liberty hadbeen forfeited by the jury's leaving the room had to wait pending itsreturn. It was a dreary, high-ceiled, four-square place, with a windowlooking out into Chestnut Street, and a second door leading off intosomewhere--one had no idea where. It was dingy, with a worn woodenfloor, some heavy, plain, wooden benches lining the four sides, nopictures or ornaments of any kind. A single two-arm gas-pipe descendedfrom the center of the ceiling. It was permeated by a peculiarly staleand pungent odor, obviously redolent of all the flotsam and jetsam oflife--criminal and innocent--that had stood or sat in here from time totime, waiting patiently to learn what a deliberating fate held in store. 

Cowperwood was, of course, disgusted; but he was too self-reliantand capable to show it. All his life he had been immaculate, almostfastidious in his care of himself. Here he was coming, perforce, incontact with a form of life which jarred upon him greatly. Steger, whowas beside him, made some comforting, explanatory, apologetic remarks. 

"Not as nice as it might be, " he said, "but you won't mind waiting alittle while. The jury won't be long, I fancy. "

"That may not help me, " he replied, walking to the window. Afterward headded: "What must be, must be. "

His father winced. Suppose Frank was on the verge of a long prison term, which meant an atmosphere like this? Heavens! For a moment, he trembled, then for the first time in years he made a silent prayer. 

Chapter XLIV

Meanwhile the great argument had been begun in the jury-room, and allthe points that had been meditatively speculated upon in the jury-boxwere now being openly discussed. 

It is amazingly interesting to see how a jury will waver and speculatein a case like this--how curious and uncertain is the process by whichit makes up its so-called mind. So-called truth is a nebulous thing atbest; facts are capable of such curious inversion and interpretation, honest and otherwise. The jury had a strongly complicated problem beforeit, and it went over it and over it. 

Juries reach not so much definite conclusions as verdicts, in a curiousfashion and for curious reasons. Very often a jury will have concludedlittle so far as its individual members are concerned and yet it willhave reached a verdict. The matter of time, as all lawyers know, playsa part in this. Juries, speaking of the members collectively andfrequently individually, object to the amount of time it takes to decidea case. They do not enjoy sitting and deliberating over a problem unlessit is tremendously fascinating. The ramifications or the mystery of asyllogism can become a weariness and a bore. The jury-room itself mayand frequently does become a dull agony. 

On the other hand, no jury contemplates a disagreement with any degreeof satisfaction. There is something so inherently constructive in thehuman mind that to leave a problem unsolved is plain misery. It hauntsthe average individual like any other important task left unfinished. Men in a jury-room, like those scientifically demonstrated atoms of acrystal which scientists and philosophers love to speculate upon, likefinally to arrange themselves into an orderly and artistic whole, topresent a compact, intellectual front, to be whatever they have set outto be, properly and rightly--a compact, sensible jury. One sees thissame instinct magnificently displayed in every other phase of nature--inthe drifting of sea-wood to the Sargasso Sea, in the geometricinterrelation of air-bubbles on the surface of still water, in themarvelous unreasoned architecture of so many insects and atomic formswhich make up the substance and the texture of this world. It would seemas though the physical substance of life--this apparition of form whichthe eye detects and calls real were shot through with some vast subtletythat loves order, that is order. The atoms of our so-called being, inspite of our so-called reason--the dreams of a mood--know where to goand what to do. They represent an order, a wisdom, a willing that is notof us. They build orderly in spite of us. So the subconscious spiritof a jury. At the same time, one does not forget the strange hypnoticeffect of one personality on another, the varying effects of varyingtypes on each other, until a solution--to use the word in its purelychemical sense--is reached. In a jury-room the thought or determinationof one or two or three men, if it be definite enough, is likely topervade the whole room and conquer the reason or the opposition of themajority. One man "standing out" for the definite thought that is in himis apt to become either the triumphant leader of a pliant mass or thebrutally battered target of a flaming, concentrated intellectual fire. Men despise dull opposition that is without reason. In a jury-room, ofall places, a man is expected to give a reason for the faith that is inhim--if one is demanded. It will not do to say, "I cannot agree. " Jurorshave been known to fight. Bitter antagonisms lasting for years have beengenerated in these close quarters. Recalcitrant jurors have been houndedcommercially in their local spheres for their unreasoned oppositions orconclusions. 

After reaching the conclusion that Cowperwood unquestionably deservedsome punishment, there was wrangling as to whether the verdict should beguilty on all four counts, as charged in the indictment. Since they didnot understand how to differentiate between the various charges verywell, they decided it should be on all four, and a recommendation tomercy added. Afterward this last was eliminated, however; either he wasguilty or he was not. The judge could see as well as they could all theextenuating circumstances--perhaps better. Why tie his hands? As a ruleno attention was paid to such recommendations, anyhow, and it only madethe jury look wabbly. 

So, finally, at ten minutes after twelve that night, they were ready toreturn a verdict; and Judge Payderson, who, because of his interest inthe case and the fact that he lived not so far away, had decided to waitup this long, was recalled. Steger and Cowperwood were sent for. The court-room was fully lighted. The bailiff, the clerk, and thestenographer were there. The jury filed in, and Cowperwood, with Stegerat his right, took his position at the gate which gave into the railedspace where prisoners always stand to hear the verdict and listen to anycommentary of the judge. He was accompanied by his father, who was verynervous. 

For the first time in his life he felt as though he were walking inhis sleep. Was this the real Frank Cowperwood of two months before--sowealthy, so progressive, so sure? Was this only December 5th or 6th now(it was after midnight)? Why was it the jury had deliberated so long?What did it mean? Here they were now, standing and gazing solemnlybefore them; and here now was Judge Payderson, mounting the steps of hisrostrum, his frizzled hair standing out in a strange, attractiveway, his familiar bailiff rapping for order. He did not look atCowperwood--it would not be courteous--but at the jury, who gazed at himin return. At the words of the clerk, "Gentlemen of the jury, have youagreed upon a verdict?" the foreman spoke up, "We have. "

"Do you find the defendant guilty or not guilty?"

"We find the defendant guilty as charged in the indictment. "

How had they come to do this? Because he had taken a check for sixtythousand dollars which did not belong to him? But in reality it did. Good Lord, what was sixty thousand dollars in the sum total of all themoney that had passed back and forth between him and George W. Stener?Nothing, nothing! A mere bagatelle in its way; and yet here it hadrisen up, this miserable, insignificant check, and become a mountain ofopposition, a stone wall, a prison-wall barring his further progress. Itwas astonishing. He looked around him at the court-room. How large andbare and cold it was! Still he was Frank A. Cowperwood. Why should helet such queer thoughts disturb him? His fight for freedom and privilegeand restitution was not over yet. Good heavens! It had only begun. Infive days he would be out again on bail. Steger would take an appeal. He would be out, and he would have two long months in which to make anadditional fight. He was not down yet. He would win his liberty. Thisjury was all wrong. A higher court would say so. It would reverse theirverdict, and he knew it. He turned to Steger, where the latter washaving the clerk poll the jury, in the hope that some one juror had beenover-persuaded, made to vote against his will. 

"Is that your verdict?" he heard the clerk ask of Philip Moultrie, jurorNo. 1. 

"It is, " replied that worthy, solemnly. 

"Is that your verdict?" The clerk was pointing to Simon Glassberg. 

"Yes, sir. "

"Is that your verdict?" He pointed to Fletcher Norton. 

"Yes. "

So it went through the whole jury. All the men answered firmly andclearly, though Steger thought it might barely be possible that onewould have changed his mind. The judge thanked them and told them thatin view of their long services this night, they were dismissed for theterm. The only thing remaining to be done now was for Steger to persuadeJudge Payderson to grant a stay of sentence pending the hearing of amotion by the State Supreme Court for a new trial. 

The Judge looked at Cowperwood very curiously as Steger made thisrequest in proper form, and owing to the importance of the case andthe feeling he had that the Supreme Court might very readily granta certificate of reasonable doubt in this case, he agreed. There wasnothing left, therefore, but for Cowperwood to return at this late hourwith the deputy sheriff to the county jail, where he must now remain forfive days at least--possibly longer. 

The jail in question, which was known locally as Moyamensing Prison, was located at Tenth and Reed Streets, and from an architectural andartistic point of view was not actually displeasing to the eye. Itconsisted of a central portion--prison, residence for the sheriff orwhat you will--three stories high, with a battlemented cornice and around battlemented tower about one-third as high as the central portionitself, and two wings, each two stories high, with battlemented turretsat either end, giving it a highly castellated and consequently, from theAmerican point of view, a very prison-like appearance. The facade of theprison, which was not more than thirty-five feet high for the centralportion, nor more than twenty-five feet for the wings, was set back atleast a hundred feet from the street, and was continued at either end, from the wings to the end of the street block, by a stone wall all oftwenty feet high. The structure was not severely prison-like, for thecentral portion was pierced by rather large, unbarred apertures hung onthe two upper stories with curtains, and giving the whole front arather pleasant and residential air. The wing to the right, as one stoodlooking in from the street, was the section known as the county jailproper, and was devoted to the care of prisoners serving short-termsentences on some judicial order. The wing to the left was devotedexclusively to the care and control of untried prisoners. The wholebuilding was built of a smooth, light-colored stone, which on a snowynight like this, with the few lamps that were used in it glowingfeebly in the dark, presented an eery, fantastic, almost supernaturalappearance. 

It was a rough and blowy night when Cowperwood started for thisinstitution under duress. The wind was driving the snow before it incurious, interesting whirls. Eddie Zanders, the sheriff's deputy onguard at the court of Quarter Sessions, accompanied him and his fatherand Steger. Zanders was a little man, dark, with a short, stubbymustache, and a shrewd though not highly intelligent eye. He was anxiousfirst to uphold his dignity as a deputy sheriff, which was a veryimportant position in his estimation, and next to turn an honest pennyif he could. He knew little save the details of his small world, whichconsisted of accompanying prisoners to and from the courts and thejails, and seeing that they did not get away. He was not unfriendly toa particular type of prisoner--the well-to-do or moderatelyprosperous--for he had long since learned that it paid to be so. To-night he offered a few sociable suggestions--viz. , that it was ratherrough, that the jail was not so far but that they could walk, and thatSheriff Jaspers would, in all likelihood, be around or could be aroused. Cowperwood scarcely heard. He was thinking of his mother and his wifeand of Aileen. 

When the jail was reached he was led to the central portion, as it washere that the sheriff, Adlai Jaspers, had his private office. Jaspershad recently been elected to office, and was inclined to conform to alloutward appearances, in so far as the proper conduct of his office wasconcerned, without in reality inwardly conforming. Thus it was generallyknown among the politicians that one way he had of fattening his ratherlean salary was to rent private rooms and grant special privileges toprisoners who had the money to pay for the same. Other sheriffs had doneit before him. In fact, when Jaspers was inducted into office, severalprisoners were already enjoying these privileges, and it was not a partof his scheme of things to disturb them. The rooms that he let to the"right parties, " as he invariably put it, were in the central portionof the jail, where were his own private living quarters. They wereunbarred, and not at all cell-like. There was no particular danger ofescape, for a guard stood always at his private door instructed "tokeep an eye" on the general movements of all the inmates. A prisoner soaccommodated was in many respects quite a free person. His meals wereserved to him in his room, if he wished. He could read or play cards, orreceive guests; and if he had any favorite musical instrument, that wasnot denied him. There was just one rule that had to be complied with. Ifhe were a public character, and any newspaper men called, he had to bebrought down-stairs into the private interviewing room in order thatthey might not know that he was not confined in a cell like any otherprisoner. 

Nearly all of these facts had been brought to Cowperwood's attentionbeforehand by Steger; but for all that, when he crossed the threshold ofthe jail a peculiar sensation of strangeness and defeat came over him. He and his party were conducted to a little office to the left ofthe entrance, where were only a desk and a chair, dimly lighted bya low-burning gas-jet. Sheriff Jaspers, rotund and ruddy, met them, greeting them in quite a friendly way. Zanders was dismissed, and wentbriskly about his affairs. 

"A bad night, isn't it?" observed Jaspers, turning up the gas andpreparing to go through the routine of registering his prisoner. Stegercame over and held a short, private conversation with him in his corner, over his desk which resulted presently in the sheriff's face lightingup. 

"Oh, certainly, certainly! That's all right, Mr. Steger, to be sure!Why, certainly!"

Cowperwood, eyeing the fat sheriff from his position, understood whatit was all about. He had regained completely his critical attitude, hiscool, intellectual poise. So this was the jail, and this was the fatmediocrity of a sheriff who was to take care of him. Very good. Hewould make the best of it. He wondered whether he was to besearched--prisoners usually were--but he soon discovered that he was notto be. 

"That's all right, Mr. Cowperwood, " said Jaspers, getting up. "I guessI can make you comfortable, after a fashion. We're not running a hotelhere, as you know"--he chuckled to himself--"but I guess I can make youcomfortable. John, " he called to a sleepy factotum, who appeared fromanother room, rubbing his eyes, "is the key to Number Six down here?"

"Yes, sir. "

"Let me have it. "

John disappeared and returned, while Steger explained to Cowperwood thatanything he wanted in the way of clothing, etc. , could be brought in. Steger himself would stop round next morning and confer with him, aswould any of the members of Cowperwood's family whom he wished to see. Cowperwood immediately explained to his father his desire for as littleof this as possible. Joseph or Edward might come in the morning andbring a grip full of underwear, etc. ; but as for the others, let themwait until he got out or had to remain permanently. He did think ofwriting Aileen, cautioning her to do nothing; but the sheriff nowbeckoned, and he quietly followed. Accompanied by his father and Steger, he ascended to his new room. 

It was a simple, white-walled chamber fifteen by twenty feet in size, rather high-ceiled, supplied with a high-backed, yellow wooden bed, a yellow bureau, a small imitation-cherry table, three very ordinarycane-seated chairs with carved hickory-rod backs, cherry-stained also, and a wash-stand of yellow-stained wood to match the bed, containinga washbasin, a pitcher, a soap-dish, uncovered, and a small, cheap, pink-flowered tooth and shaving brush mug, which did not match theother ware and which probably cost ten cents. The value of this roomto Sheriff Jaspers was what he could get for it in cases likethis--twenty-five to thirty-five dollars a week. Cowperwood would paythirty-five. 

Cowperwood walked briskly to the window, which gave out on the lawn infront, now embedded in snow, and said he thought this was all right. Both his father and Steger were willing and anxious to confer with himfor hours, if he wished; but there was nothing to say. He did not wishto talk. 

"Let Ed bring in some fresh linen in the morning and a couple of suitsof clothes, and I will be all right. George can get my things together. "He was referring to a family servant who acted as valet and in othercapacities. "Tell Lillian not to worry. I'm all right. I'd rather shewould not come here so long as I'm going to be out in five days. If I'mnot, it will be time enough then. Kiss the kids for me. " And he smiledgood-naturedly. 

After his unfulfilled predictions in regard to the result of thispreliminary trial Steger was almost afraid to suggest confidentlywhat the State Supreme Court would or would not do; but he had to saysomething. 

"I don't think you need worry about what the outcome of my appeal willbe, Frank. I'll get a certificate of reasonable doubt, and that's asgood as a stay of two months, perhaps longer. I don't suppose the bailwill be more than thirty thousand dollars at the outside. You'll be outagain in five or six days, whatever happens. "

Cowperwood said that he hoped so, and suggested that they drop mattersfor the night. After a few fruitless parleys his father and Stegerfinally said good night, leaving him to his own private reflections. Hewas tired, however, and throwing off his clothes, tucked himself in hismediocre bed, and was soon fast asleep. 

Chapter XLV

Say what one will about prison life in general, modify it ever so muchby special chambers, obsequious turnkeys, a general tendency to make oneas comfortable as possible, a jail is a jail, and there is no gettingaway from that. Cowperwood, in a room which was not in any way inferiorto that of the ordinary boarding-house, was nevertheless conscious ofthe character of that section of this real prison which was not yet hisportion. He knew that there were cells there, probably greasy and smellyand vermin-infested, and that they were enclosed by heavy iron bars, which would have as readily clanked on him as on those who were nowtherein incarcerated if he had not had the price to pay for somethingbetter. So much for the alleged equality of man, he thought, which gaveto one man, even within the grim confines of the machinery of justice, such personal liberty as he himself was now enjoying, and to another, because he chanced to lack wit or presence or friends or wealth, deniedthe more comfortable things which money would buy. 

The morning after the trial, on waking, he stirred curiously, andthen it suddenly came to him that he was no longer in the free andcomfortable atmosphere of his own bedroom, but in a jail-cell, or ratherits very comfortable substitute, a sheriff's rented bedroom. He got upand looked out the window. The ground outside and Passayunk Avenuewere white with snow. Some wagons were silently lumbering by. A fewPhiladelphians were visible here and there, going to and fro on morningerrands. He began to think at once what he must do, how he must actto carry on his business, to rehabilitate himself; and as he did so hedressed and pulled the bell-cord, which had been indicated to him, andwhich would bring him an attendant who would build him a fire and laterbring him something to eat. A shabby prison attendant in a blue uniform, conscious of Cowperwood's superiority because of the room he occupied, laid wood and coal in the grate and started a fire, and later broughthim his breakfast, which was anything but prison fare, though poorenough at that. 

After that he was compelled to wait in patience several hours, in spiteof the sheriff's assumption of solicitous interest, before his brotherEdward was admitted with his clothes. An attendant, for a consideration, brought him the morning papers, and these, except for the financialnews, he read indifferently. Late in the afternoon Steger arrived, saying he had been busy having certain proceedings postponed, but thathe had arranged with the sheriff for Cowperwood to be permitted to seesuch of those as had important business with him. 

By this time, Cowperwood had written Aileen under no circumstances totry to see him, as he would be out by the tenth, and that either thatday, or shortly after, they would meet. As he knew, she wanted greatlyto see him, but he had reason to believe she was under surveillance bydetectives employed by her father. This was not true, but it was preyingon her fancy, and combined with some derogatory remarks dropped by Owenand Callum at the dinner table recently, had proved almost too much forher fiery disposition. But, because of Cowperwood's letter reaching herat the Calligans', she made no move until she read on the morning of thetenth that Cowperwood's plea for a certificate of reasonable doubt hadbeen granted, and that he would once more, for the time being at least, be a free man. This gave her courage to do what she had long wanted todo, and that was to teach her father that she could get along withouthim and that he could not make her do anything she did not want to do. She still had the two hundred dollars Cowperwood had given her and someadditional cash of her own--perhaps three hundred and fifty dollars inall. This she thought would be sufficient to see her to the end of heradventure, or at least until she could make some other arrangement forher personal well-being. From what she knew of the feeling of her familyfor her, she felt that the agony would all be on their side, not hers. Perhaps when her father saw how determined she was he would decide tolet her alone and make peace with her. She was determined to try it, anyhow, and immediately sent word to Cowperwood that she was going tothe Calligans and would welcome him to freedom. 

In a way, Cowperwood was rather gratified by Aileen's message, forhe felt that his present plight, bitter as it was, was largely due toButler's opposition and he felt no compunction in striking him throughhis daughter. His former feeling as to the wisdom of not enraging Butlerhad proved rather futile, he thought, and since the old man could not beplacated it might be just as well to have Aileen demonstrate to him thatshe was not without resources of her own and could live without him. Shemight force him to change his attitude toward her and possibly even tomodify some of his political machinations against him, Cowperwood. Anyport in a storm--and besides, he had now really nothing to lose, andinstinct told him that her move was likely to prove more favorable thanotherwise--so he did nothing to prevent it. 

She took her jewels, some underwear, a couple of dresses which shethought would be serviceable, and a few other things, and packed themin the most capacious portmanteau she had. Shoes and stockings came intoconsideration, and, despite her efforts, she found that she could notget in all that she wished. Her nicest hat, which she was determined totake, had to be carried outside. She made a separate bundle of it, which was not pleasant to contemplate. Still she decided to take it. She rummaged in a little drawer where she kept her money and jewels, andfound the three hundred and fifty dollars and put it in her purse. Itwasn't much, as Aileen could herself see, but Cowperwood would helpher. If he did not arrange to take care of her, and her father would notrelent, she would have to get something to do. Little she knew of thesteely face the world presents to those who have not been practicallytrained and are not economically efficient. She did not understand thebitter reaches of life at all. She waited, humming for effect, until sheheard her father go downstairs to dinner on this tenth day of December, then leaned over the upper balustrade to make sure that Owen, Callum, Norah, and her mother were at the table, and that Katy, the housemaid, was not anywhere in sight. Then she slipped into her father's den, and, taking a note from inside her dress, laid it on his desk, and went out. It was addressed to "Father, " and read:

 Dear Father, --I just cannot do what you want me to. I have made up my mind that I love Mr. Cowperwood too much, so I am going away. Don't look for me with him. You won't find me where you think. I am not going to him; I will not be there. I am going to try to get along by myself for a while, until he wants me and can marry me. I'm terribly sorry; but I just can't do what you want. I can't ever forgive you for the way you acted to me. Tell mama and Norah and the boys good-by for me. 

 Aileen

To insure its discovery, she picked up Butler's heavy-rimmed spectacleswhich he employed always when reading, and laid them on it. For a momentshe felt very strange, somewhat like a thief--a new sensation forher. She even felt a momentary sense of ingratitude coupled with pain. Perhaps she was doing wrong. Her father had been very good to her. Hermother would feel so very bad. Norah would be sorry, and Callum andOwen. Still, they did not understand her any more. She was resentful ofher father's attitude. He might have seen what the point was; but no, hewas too old, too hidebound in religion and conventional ideas--he neverwould. He might never let her come back. Very well, she would get alongsomehow. She would show him. She might get a place as a school-teacher, and live with the Calligans a long while, if necessary, or teach music. 

She stole downstairs and out into the vestibule, opening the outer doorand looking out into the street. The lamps were already flaring in thedark, and a cool wind was blowing. Her portmanteau was heavy, but shewas quite strong. She walked briskly to the corner, which was some fiftyfeet away, and turned south, walking rather nervously and irritably, forthis was a new experience for her, and it all seemed so undignified, sounlike anything she was accustomed to doing. She put her bag down ona street corner, finally, to rest. A boy whistling in the distanceattracted her attention, and as he drew near she called to him: "Boy!Oh, boy!"

He came over, looking at her curiously. 

"Do you want to earn some money?"

"Yes, ma'am, " he replied politely, adjusting a frowsy cap over one ear. 

"Carry this bag for me, " said Aileen, and he picked it up and marchedoff. 

In due time she arrived at the Calligans', and amid much excitement wasinstalled in the bosom of her new home. She took her situation withmuch nonchalance, once she was properly placed, distributing her toiletarticles and those of personal wear with quiet care. The fact that shewas no longer to have the services of Kathleen, the maid who had servedher and her mother and Norah jointly, was odd, though not trying. Shescarcely felt that she had parted from these luxuries permanently, andso made herself comfortable. 

Mamie Calligan and her mother were adoring slaveys, so she was notentirely out of the atmosphere which she craved and to which she wasaccustomed. 

Chapter XLVI

Meanwhile, in the Butler home the family was assembling for dinner. Mrs. Butler was sitting in rotund complacency at the foot of the table, hergray hair combed straight back from her round, shiny forehead. She hadon a dark-gray silk dress, trimmed with gray-and-white striped ribbon. It suited her florid temperament admirably. Aileen had dictated hermother's choice, and had seen that it had been properly made. Norah wasrefreshingly youthful in a pale-green dress, with red-velvet cuffs andcollar. She looked young, slender, gay. Her eyes, complexion and hairwere fresh and healthy. She was trifling with a string of coral beadswhich her mother had just given her. 

"Oh, look, Callum, " she said to her brother opposite her, who wasdrumming idly on the table with his knife and fork. "Aren't they lovely?Mama gave them to me. "

"Mama does more for you than I would. You know what you'd get from me, don't you?"

"What?"

He looked at her teasingly. For answer Norah made a face at him. Justthen Owen came in and took his place at the table. Mrs. Butler sawNorah's grimace. 

"Well, that'll win no love from your brother, ye can depend on that, "she commented. 

"Lord, what a day!" observed Owen, wearily, unfolding his napkin. "I'vehad my fill of work for once. "

"What's the trouble?" queried his mother, feelingly. 

"No real trouble, mother, " he replied. "Just everything--ducks anddrakes, that's all. "

"Well, ye must ate a good, hearty meal now, and that'll refresh ye, "observed his mother, genially and feelingly. "Thompson"--she wasreferring to the family grocer--"brought us the last of his beans. Youmust have some of those. "

"Sure, beans'll fix it, whatever it is, Owen, " joked Callum. "Mother'sgot the answer. "

"They're fine, I'd have ye know, " replied Mrs. Butler, quite unconsciousof the joke. 

"No doubt of it, mother, " replied Callum. "Real brain-food. Let's feedsome to Norah. "

"You'd better eat some yourself, smarty. My, but you're gay! I supposeyou're going out to see somebody. That's why. "

"Right you are, Norah. Smart girl, you. Five or six. Ten to fifteenminutes each. I'd call on you if you were nicer. "

"You would if you got the chance, " mocked Norah. "I'd have you know Iwouldn't let you. I'd feel very bad if I couldn't get somebody betterthan you. "

"As good as, you mean, " corrected Callum. 

"Children, children!" interpolated Mrs. Butler, calmly, looking aboutfor old John, the servant. "You'll be losin' your tempers in a minute. Hush now. Here comes your father. Where's Aileen?"

Butler walked heavily in and took his seat. 

John, the servant, appeared bearing a platter of beans among otherthings, and Mrs. Butler asked him to send some one to call Aileen. 

"It's gettin' colder, I'm thinkin', " said Butler, by way ofconversation, and eyeing Aileen's empty chair. She would come soonnow--his heavy problem. He had been very tactful these last twomonths--avoiding any reference to Cowperwood in so far as he could helpin her presence. 

"It's colder, " remarked Owen, "much colder. We'll soon see real winternow. "

Old John began to offer the various dishes in order; but when all hadbeen served Aileen had not yet come. 

"See where Aileen is, John, " observed Mrs. Butler, interestedly. "Themeal will be gettin' cold. "

Old John returned with the news that Aileen was not in her room. 

"Sure she must be somewhere, " commented Mrs. Butler, only slightlyperplexed. "She'll be comin', though, never mind, if she wants to. Sheknows it's meal-time. "

The conversation drifted from a new water-works that was being plannedto the new city hall, then nearing completion; Cowperwood's financialand social troubles, and the state of the stock market generally; a newgold-mine in Arizona; the departure of Mrs. Mollenhauer the followingTuesday for Europe, with appropriate comments by Norah and Callum; and aChristmas ball that was going to be given for charity. 

"Aileen'll be wantin' to go to that, " commented Mrs. Butler. 

"I'm going, you bet, " put in Norah. 

"Who's going to take you?" asked Callum. 

"That's my affair, mister, " she replied, smartly. 

The meal was over, and Mrs. Butler strolled up to Aileen's room to seewhy she had not come down to dinner. Butler entered his den, wishing somuch that he could take his wife into his confidence concerning all thatwas worrying him. On his desk, as he sat down and turned up the light, he saw the note. He recognized Aileen's handwriting at once. What couldshe mean by writing him? A sense of the untoward came to him, andhe tore it open slowly, and, putting on his glasses, contemplated itsolemnly. 

So Aileen was gone. The old man stared at each word as if it had beenwritten in fire. She said she had not gone with Cowperwood. It waspossible, just the same, that he had run away from Philadelphia andtaken her with him. This was the last straw. This ended it. Aileenlured away from home--to where--to what? Butler could scarcely believe, though, that Cowperwood had tempted her to do this. He had too much atstake; it would involve his own and Butler's families. The papers wouldbe certain to get it quickly. He got up, crumpling the paper in hishand, and turned about at a noise. His wife was coming in. He pulledhimself together and shoved the letter in his pocket. 

"Aileen's not in her room, " she said, curiously. "She didn't sayanything to you about going out, did she?"

"No, " he replied, truthfully, wondering how soon he should have to tellhis wife. 

"That's odd, " observed Mrs. Butler, doubtfully. "She must have gone outafter somethin'. It's a wonder she wouldn't tell somebody. "

Butler gave no sign. He dared not. "She'll be back, " he said, more inorder to gain time than anything else. He was sorry to have to pretend. Mrs. Butler went out, and he closed the door. Then he took outthe letter and read it again. The girl was crazy. She was doing anabsolutely wild, inhuman, senseless thing. Where could she go, exceptto Cowperwood? She was on the verge of a public scandal, and this wouldproduce it. There was just one thing to do as far as he could see. Cowperwood, if he were still in Philadelphia, would know. He would go tohim--threaten, cajole, actually destroy him, if necessary. Aileen mustcome back. She need not go to Europe, perhaps, but she must come backand behave herself at least until Cowperwood could legitimately marryher. That was all he could expect now. She would have to wait, and someday perhaps he could bring himself to accept her wretched proposition. Horrible thought! It would kill her mother, disgrace her sister. He gotup, took down his hat, put on his overcoat, and started out. 

Arriving at the Cowperwood home he was shown into the reception-room. Cowperwood at the time was in his den looking over some private papers. When the name of Butler was announced he immediately went down-stairs. It was characteristic of the man that the announcement of Butler'spresence created no stir in him whatsoever. So Butler had come. Thatmeant, of course, that Aileen had gone. Now for a battle, not of words, but of weights of personalities. He felt himself to be intellectually, socially, and in every other way the more powerful man of the two. Thatspiritual content of him which we call life hardened to the texture ofsteel. He recalled that although he had told his wife and his fatherthat the politicians, of whom Butler was one, were trying to make ascapegoat of him, Butler, nevertheless, was not considered to be whollyalienated as a friend, and civility must prevail. He would like verymuch to placate him if he could, to talk out the hard facts of life in aquiet and friendly way. But this matter of Aileen had to be adjusted nowonce and for all. And with that thought in his mind he walked quicklyinto Butler's presence. 

The old man, when he learned that Cowperwood was in and would see him, determined to make his contact with the financier as short and effectiveas possible. He moved the least bit when he heard Cowperwood's step, aslight and springy as ever. 

"Good evening, Mr. Butler, " said Cowperwood, cheerfully, when he sawhim, extending his hand. "What can I do for you?"

"Ye can take that away from in front of me, for one thing, " said Butler, grimly referring to his hand. "I have no need of it. It's my daughterI've come to talk to ye about, and I want plain answers. Where is she?"

"You mean Aileen?" said Cowperwood, looking at him with steady, curious, unrevealing eyes, and merely interpolating this to obtain a moment forreflection. "What can I tell you about her?"

"Ye can tell me where she is, that I know. And ye can make her come backto her home, where she belongs. It was bad fortune that ever brought yeacross my doorstep; but I'll not bandy words with ye here. Ye'll tell mewhere my daughter is, and ye'll leave her alone from now, or I'll--" Theold man's fists closed like a vise, and his chest heaved with suppressedrage. "Ye'll not be drivin' me too far, man, if ye're wise, " he added, after a time, recovering his equanimity in part. "I want no truck withye. I want my daughter. "

"Listen, Mr. Butler, " said Cowperwood, quite calmly, relishing thesituation for the sheer sense of superiority it gave him. "I want tobe perfectly frank with you, if you will let me. I may know where yourdaughter is, and I may not. I may wish to tell you, and I may not. Shemay not wish me to. But unless you wish to talk with me in a civil waythere is no need of our going on any further. You are privileged to dowhat you like. Won't you come up-stairs to my room? We can talk morecomfortably there. "

Butler looked at his former protege in utter astonishment. He hadnever before in all his experience come up against a more ruthlesstype--suave, bland, forceful, unterrified. This man had certainlycome to him as a sheep, and had turned out to be a ravening wolf. Hisincarceration had not put him in the least awe. 

"I'll not come up to your room, " Butler said, "and ye'll not get out ofPhiladelphy with her if that's what ye're plannin'. I can see to that. Ye think ye have the upper hand of me, I see, and ye're anxious to makesomething of it. Well, ye're not. It wasn't enough that ye come to meas a beggar, cravin' the help of me, and that I took ye in and helped yeall I could--ye had to steal my daughter from me in the bargain. If itwasn't for the girl's mother and her sister and her brothers--dacentermen than ever ye'll know how to be--I'd brain ye where ye stand. Takin'a young, innocent girl and makin' an evil woman out of her, and ye amarried man! It's a God's blessin' for ye that it's me, and not one ofme sons, that's here talkin' to ye, or ye wouldn't be alive to say whatye'd do. "

The old man was grim but impotent in his rage. 

"I'm sorry, Mr. Butler, " replied Cowperwood, quietly. "I'm willing toexplain, but you won't let me. I'm not planning to run away with yourdaughter, nor to leave Philadelphia. You ought to know me well enough toknow that I'm not contemplating anything of that kind; my interests aretoo large. You and I are practical men. We ought to be able to talkthis matter over together and reach an understanding. I thought onceof coming to you and explaining this; but I was quite sure you wouldn'tlisten to me. Now that you are here I would like to talk to you. If youwill come up to my room I will be glad to--otherwise not. Won't you comeup?"

Butler saw that Cowperwood had the advantage. He might as well go up. Otherwise it was plain he would get no information. 

"Very well, " he said. 

Cowperwood led the way quite amicably, and, having entered his privateoffice, closed the door behind him. 

"We ought to be able to talk this matter over and reach anunderstanding, " he said again, when they were in the room and he hadclosed the door. "I am not as bad as you think, though I know I appearvery bad. " Butler stared at him in contempt. "I love your daughter, andshe loves me. I know you are asking yourself how I can do this whileI am still married; but I assure you I can, and that I do. I am nothappily married. I had expected, if this panic hadn't come along, toarrange with my wife for a divorce and marry Aileen. My intentions areperfectly good. The situation which you can complain of, of course, isthe one you encountered a few weeks ago. It was indiscreet, but it wasentirely human. Your daughter does not complain--she understands. " Atthe mention of his daughter in this connection Butler flushed with rageand shame, but he controlled himself. 

"And ye think because she doesn't complain that it's all right, do ye?"he asked, sarcastically. 

"From my point of view, yes; from yours no. You have one view of life, Mr. Butler, and I have another. "

"Ye're right there, " put in Butler, "for once, anyhow. "

"That doesn't prove that either of us is right or wrong. In my judgmentthe present end justifies the means. The end I have in view is to marryAileen. If I can possibly pull myself out of this financial scrape thatI am in I will do so. Of course, I would like to have your consentfor that--so would Aileen; but if we can't, we can't. " (Cowperwood wasthinking that while this might not have a very soothing effect on theold contractor's point of view, nevertheless it must make some appeal tohis sense of the possible or necessary. Aileen's present situationwas quite unsatisfactory without marriage in view. And even if he, Cowperwood, was a convicted embezzler in the eyes of the public, thatdid not make him so. He might get free and restore himself--wouldcertainly--and Aileen ought to be glad to marry him if she couldunder the circumstances. He did not quite grasp the depth of Butler'sreligious and moral prejudices. ) "Lately, " he went on, "you have beendoing all you can, as I understand it, to pull me down, on account ofAileen, I suppose; but that is simply delaying what I want to do. "

"Ye'd like me to help ye do that, I suppose?" suggested Butler, withinfinite disgust and patience. 

"I want to marry Aileen, " Cowperwood repeated, for emphasis' sake. "Shewants to marry me. Under the circumstances, however you may feel, youcan have no real objection to my doing that, I am sure; yet you go onfighting me--making it hard for me to do what you really know ought tobe done. "

"Ye're a scoundrel, " said Butler, seeing through his motives quiteclearly. "Ye're a sharper, to my way of thinkin', and it's no child ofmine I want connected with ye. I'm not sayin', seein' that things areas they are, that if ye were a free man it wouldn't be better that sheshould marry ye. It's the one dacent thing ye could do--if ye would, which I doubt. But that's nayther here nor there now. What can ye wantwith her hid away somewhere? Ye can't marry her. Ye can't get a divorce. Ye've got your hands full fightin' your lawsuits and kapin' yourself outof jail. She'll only be an added expense to ye, and ye'll be wantin' allthe money ye have for other things, I'm thinkin'. Why should ye want tobe takin' her away from a dacent home and makin' something out of herthat ye'd be ashamed to marry if you could? The laist ye could do, ifye were any kind of a man at all, and had any of that thing that ye'replased to call love, would be to lave her at home and keep her asrespectable as possible. Mind ye, I'm not thinkin' she isn't tenthousand times too good for ye, whatever ye've made of her. But if yehad any sinse of dacency left, ye wouldn't let her shame her family andbreak her old mother's heart, and that for no purpose except to makeher worse than she is already. What good can ye get out of it, now? Whatgood can ye expect to come of it? Be hivins, if ye had any sinse at allI should think ye could see that for yerself. Ye're only addin' to yourtroubles, not takin' away from them--and she'll not thank ye for thatlater on. "

He stopped, rather astonished that he should have been drawn into anargument. His contempt for this man was so great that he couldscarcely look at him, but his duty and his need was to get Aileen back. Cowperwood looked at him as one who gives serious attention to another. He seemed to be thinking deeply over what Butler had said. 

"To tell you the truth, Mr. Butler, " he said, "I did not want Aileen toleave your home at all; and she will tell you so, if you ever talkto her about it. I did my best to persuade her not to, and when sheinsisted on going the only thing I could do was to be sure she wouldbe comfortable wherever she went. She was greatly outraged to think youshould have put detectives on her trail. That, and the fact that youwanted to send her away somewhere against her will, was the principalreasons for her leaving. I assure you I did not want her to go. I thinkyou forget sometimes, Mr. Butler, that Aileen is a grown woman, andthat she has a will of her own. You think I control her to her greatdisadvantage. As a matter of fact, I am very much in love with her, andhave been for three or four years; and if you know anything about loveyou know that it doesn't always mean control. I'm not doing Aileen anyinjustice when I say that she has had as much influence on me as I havehad on her. I love her, and that's the cause of all the trouble. Youcome and insist that I shall return your daughter to you. As a matter offact, I don't know whether I can or not. I don't know that she would goif I wanted her to. She might turn on me and say that I didn't care forher any more. That is not true, and I would not want her to feel thatway. She is greatly hurt, as I told you, by what you did to her, andthe fact that you want her to leave Philadelphia. You can do as much toremedy that as I can. I could tell you where she is, but I do not knowthat I want to. Certainly not until I know what your attitude toward herand this whole proposition is to be. "

He paused and looked calmly at the old contractor, who eyed him grimlyin return. 

"What proposition are ye talkin' about?" asked Butler, interested bythe peculiar developments of this argument. In spite of himself he wasgetting a slightly different angle on the whole situation. The scenewas shifting to a certain extent. Cowperwood appeared to be reasonablysincere in the matter. His promises might all be wrong, but perhaps hedid love Aileen; and it was possible that he did intend to get a divorcefrom his wife some time and marry her. Divorce, as Butler knew, wasagainst the rules of the Catholic Church, which he so much revered. Thelaws of God and any sense of decency commanded that Cowperwood shouldnot desert his wife and children and take up with another woman--noteven Aileen, in order to save her. It was a criminal thing to plan, sociologically speaking, and showed what a villain Cowperwood inherentlywas; but, nevertheless, Cowperwood was not a Catholic, his views of lifewere not the same as his own, Butler's, and besides and worst of all (nodoubt due in part to Aileen's own temperament), he had compromised hersituation very materially. She might not easily be restored to a senseof of the normal and decent, and so the matter was worth taking intothought. Butler knew that ultimately he could not countenance any suchthing--certainly not, and keep his faith with the Church--but he washuman enough none the less to consider it. Besides, he wanted Aileen tocome back; and Aileen from now on, he knew, would have some say as towhat her future should be. 

"Well, it's simple enough, " replied Cowperwood. "I should like to haveyou withdraw your opposition to Aileen's remaining in Philadelphia, forone thing; and for another, I should like you to stop your attackson me. " Cowperwood smiled in an ingratiating way. He hoped reallyto placate Butler in part by his generous attitude throughout thisprocedure. "I can't make you do that, of course, unless you want to. Imerely bring it up, Mr. Butler, because I am sure that if it hadn't beenfor Aileen you would not have taken the course you have taken toward me. I understood you received an anonymous letter, and that afternoon youcalled your loan with me. Since then I have heard from one source andanother that you were strongly against me, and I merely wish to say thatI wish you wouldn't be. I am not guilty of embezzling any sixty thousanddollars, and you know it. My intentions were of the best. I did notthink I was going to fail at the time I used those certificates, andif it hadn't been for several other loans that were called I would havegone on to the end of the month and put them back in time, as I alwayshad. I have always valued your friendship very highly, and I am verysorry to lose it. Now I have said all I am going to say. "

Butler looked at Cowperwood with shrewd, calculating eyes. The man hadsome merit, but much unconscionable evil in him. Butler knew very wellhow he had taken the check, and a good many other things in connectionwith it. The manner in which he had played his cards to-night was on apar with the way he had run to him on the night of the fire. He was justshrewd and calculating and heartless. 

"I'll make ye no promise, " he said. "Tell me where my daughter is, andI'll think the matter over. Ye have no claim on me now, and I owe ye nogood turn. But I'll think it over, anyhow. "

"That's quite all right, " replied Cowperwood. "That's all I can expect. But what about Aileen? Do you expect her to leave Philadelphia?"

"Not if she settles down and behaves herself: but there must be an endof this between you and her. She's disgracin' her family and ruinin' hersoul in the bargain. And that's what you are doin' with yours. It'llbe time enough to talk about anything else when you're a free man. Morethan that I'll not promise. "

Cowperwood, satisfied that this move on Aileen's part had done her areal service if it had not aided him especially, was convinced that itwould be a good move for her to return to her home at once. He couldnot tell how his appeal to the State Supreme Court would eventuate. Hismotion for a new trial which was now to be made under the privilege ofthe certificate of reasonable doubt might not be granted, in which casehe would have to serve a term in the penitentiary. If he were compelledto go to the penitentiary she would be safer--better off in the bosom ofher family. His own hands were going to be exceedingly full for thenext two months until he knew how his appeal was coming out. And afterthat--well, after that he would fight on, whatever happened. 

During all the time that Cowperwood had been arguing his case in thisfashion he had been thinking how he could adjust this compromise so asto retain the affection of Aileen and not offend her sensibilities byurging her to return. He knew that she would not agree to give up seeinghim, and he was not willing that she should. Unless he had a good andsufficient reason, he would be playing a wretched part by telling Butlerwhere she was. He did not intend to do so until he saw exactly how to doit--the way that would make it most acceptable to Aileen. He knew thatshe would not long be happy where she was. Her flight was due in part toButler's intense opposition to himself and in part to his determinationto make her leave Philadelphia and behave; but this last was now in partobviated. Butler, in spite of his words, was no longer a stern Nemesis. He was a melting man--very anxious to find his daughter, very willingto forgive her. He was whipped, literally beaten, at his own game, andCowperwood could see it in the old man's eyes. If he himself could talkto Aileen personally and explain just how things were, he felt sure hecould make her see that it would be to their mutual advantage, for thepresent at least, to have the matter amicably settled. The thing to dowas to make Butler wait somewhere--here, possibly--while he went andtalked to her. When she learned how things were she would probablyacquiesce. 

"The best thing that I can do under the circumstances, " he said, after atime, "would be to see Aileen in two or three days, and ask her what shewishes to do. I can explain the matter to her, and if she wants to goback, she can. I will promise to tell her anything that you say. "

"Two or three days!" exclaimed Butler, irritably. "Two or threefiddlesticks! She must come home to-night. Her mother doesn't know she'sleft the place yet. To-night is the time! I'll go and fetch her meselfto-night. "

"No, that won't do, " said Cowperwood. "I shall have to go myself. If youwish to wait here I will see what can be done, and let you know. "

"Very well, " grunted Butler, who was now walking up and down with hishands behind his back. "But for Heaven's sake be quick about it. There'sno time to lose. " He was thinking of Mrs. Butler. Cowperwood called theservant, ordered his runabout, and told George to see that his privateoffice was not disturbed. Then, as Butler strolled to and fro in this, to him, objectionable room, Cowperwood drove rapidly away. 

Chapter XLVII

Although it was nearly eleven o'clock when he arrived at the Calligans', Aileen was not yet in bed. In her bedroom upstairs she was confidingto Mamie and Mrs. Calligan some of her social experiences when the bellrang, and Mrs. Calligan went down and opened the door to Cowperwood. 

"Miss Butler is here, I believe, " he said. "Will you tell her that thereis some one here from her father?" Although Aileen had instructed thather presence here was not to be divulged even to the members of herfamily the force of Cowperwood's presence and the mention of Butler'sname cost Mrs. Calligan her presence of mind. "Wait a moment, " she said;"I'll see. "

She stepped back, and Cowperwood promptly stepped in, taking off his hatwith the air of one who was satisfied that Aileen was there. "Say to herthat I only want to speak to her for a few moments, " he called, as Mrs. Calligan went up-stairs, raising his voice in the hope that Aileen mighthear. She did, and came down promptly. She was very much astonishedto think that he should come so soon, and fancied, in her vanity, thatthere must be great excitement in her home. She would have greatlygrieved if there had not been. 

The Calligans would have been pleased to hear, but Cowperwood wascautious. As she came down the stairs he put his finger to his lips insign for silence, and said, "This is Miss Butler, I believe. "

"Yes, " replied Aileen, with a secret smile. Her one desire was to kisshim. "What's the trouble darling?" she asked, softly. 

"You'll have to go back, dear, I'm afraid, " whispered Cowperwood. "You'll have everything in a turmoil if you don't. Your mother doesn'tknow yet, it seems, and your father is over at my place now, waiting foryou. It may be a good deal of help to me if you do. Let me tell you--"He went off into a complete description of his conversation with Butlerand his own views in the matter. Aileen's expression changed from timeto time as the various phases of the matter were put before her; but, persuaded by the clearness with which he put the matter, and byhis assurance that they could continue their relations as beforeuninterrupted, once this was settled, she decided to return. In a way, her father's surrender was a great triumph. She made her farewells tothe Calligans, saying, with a smile, that they could not do without herat home, and that she would send for her belongings later, and returnedwith Cowperwood to his own door. There he asked her to wait in therunabout while he sent her father down. 

"Well?" said Butler, turning on him when he opened the door, and notseeing Aileen. 

"You'll find her outside in my runabout, " observed Cowperwood. "You mayuse that if you choose. I will send my man for it. "

"No, thank you; we'll walk, " said Butler. 

Cowperwood called his servant to take charge of the vehicle, and Butlerstalked solemnly out. 

He had to admit to himself that the influence of Cowperwood over hisdaughter was deadly, and probably permanent. The best he could do wouldbe to keep her within the precincts of the home, where she might still, possibly, be brought to her senses. He held a very guarded conversationwith her on his way home, for fear that she would take additionaloffense. Argument was out of the question. 

"Ye might have talked with me once more, Aileen, " he said, "before yeleft. Yer mother would be in a terrible state if she knew ye were gone. She doesn't know yet. Ye'll have to say ye stayed somewhere to dinner. "

"I was at the Calligans, " replied Aileen. "That's easy enough. Mamawon't think anything about it. "

"It's a sore heart I have, Aileen. I hope ye'll think over your ways anddo better. I'll not say anythin' more now. "

Aileen returned to her room, decidedly triumphant in her mood for themoment, and things went on apparently in the Butler household as before. But those who imagine that this defeat permanently altered the attitudeof Butler toward Cowperwood are mistaken. 

In the meanwhile between the day of his temporary release and thehearing of his appeal which was two months off, Cowperwood was going ondoing his best to repair his shattered forces. He took up his workwhere he left off; but the possibility of reorganizing his businesswas distinctly modified since his conviction. Because of his action intrying to protect his largest creditors at the time of his failure, hefancied that once he was free again, if ever he got free, his credit, other things being equal, would be good with those who could helphim most--say, Cooke & Co. , Clark & Co. , Drexel & Co. , and the GirardNational Bank--providing his personal reputation had not been too badlyinjured by his sentence. Fortunately for his own hopefulness of mind, he failed fully to realize what a depressing effect a legal decision ofthis character, sound or otherwise, had on the minds of even his mostenthusiastic supporters. 

His best friends in the financial world were by now convinced that hiswas a sinking ship. A student of finance once observed that nothing isso sensitive as money, and the financial mind partakes largely of thequality of the thing in which it deals. There was no use trying todo much for a man who might be going to prison for a term of years. Something might be done for him possibly in connection with thegovernor, providing he lost his case before the Supreme Court and wasactually sentenced to prison; but that was two months off, or more, andthey could not tell what the outcome of that would be. So Cowperwood'srepeated appeals for assistance, extension of credit, or the acceptanceof some plan he had for his general rehabilitation, were met with thekindly evasions of those who were doubtful. They would think it over. They would see about it. Certain things were standing in the way. Andso on, and so forth, through all the endless excuses of those who donot care to act. In these days he went about the money world in hiscustomary jaunty way, greeting all those whom he had known there manyyears and pretending, when asked, to be very hopeful, to be doing verywell; but they did not believe him, and he really did not care whetherthey did or not. His business was to persuade or over-persuade any onewho could really be of assistance to him, and at this task he workeduntiringly, ignoring all others. 

"Why, hello, Frank, " his friends would call, on seeing him. "How are yougetting on?"

"Fine! Fine!" he would reply, cheerfully. "Never better, " and he wouldexplain in a general way how his affairs were being handled. He conveyedmuch of his own optimism to all those who knew him and were interestedin his welfare, but of course there were many who were not. 

In these days also, he and Steger were constantly to be met with incourts of law, for he was constantly being reexamined in some petitionin bankruptcy. They were heartbreaking days, but he did not flinch. Hewanted to stay in Philadelphia and fight the thing to a finish--puttinghimself where he had been before the fire; rehabilitating himself inthe eyes of the public. He felt that he could do it, too, if he werenot actually sent to prison for a long term; and even then, so naturallyoptimistic was his mood, when he got out again. But, in so far asPhiladelphia was concerned, distinctly he was dreaming vain dreams. 

One of the things militating against him was the continued oppositionof Butler and the politicians. Somehow--no one could have said exactlywhy--the general political feeling was that the financier and the formercity treasurer would lose their appeals and eventually be sentencedtogether. Stener, in spite of his original intention to plead guilty andtake his punishment without comment, had been persuaded by some of hispolitical friends that it would be better for his future's sake to pleadnot guilty and claim that his offense had been due to custom, ratherthan to admit his guilt outright and so seem not to have hadany justification whatsoever. This he did, but he was convictednevertheless. For the sake of appearances, a trumped-up appeal was madewhich was now before the State Supreme Court. 

Then, too, due to one whisper and another, and these originating withthe girl who had written Butler and Cowperwood's wife, there was at thistime a growing volume of gossip relating to the alleged relations ofCowperwood with Butler's daughter, Aileen. There had been a house inTenth Street. It had been maintained by Cowperwood for her. No wonderButler was so vindictive. This, indeed, explained much. And even in thepractical, financial world, criticism was now rather against Cowperwoodthan his enemies. For, was it not a fact, that at the inception of hiscareer, he had been befriended by Butler? And what a way to reward thatfriendship! His oldest and firmest admirers wagged their heads. Forthey sensed clearly that this was another illustration of that innate "Isatisfy myself" attitude which so regulated Cowperwood's conduct. He wasa strong man, surely--and a brilliant one. Never had Third Street seen amore pyrotechnic, and yet fascinating and financially aggressive, andat the same time, conservative person. Yet might one not fairly temptNemesis by a too great daring and egotism? Like Death, it loves ashining mark. He should not, perhaps, have seduced Butler's daughter;unquestionably he should not have so boldly taken that check, especiallyafter his quarrel and break with Stener. He was a little too aggressive. Was it not questionable whether--with such a record--he could berestored to his former place here? The bankers and business men who wereclosest to him were decidedly dubious. 

But in so far as Cowperwood and his own attitude toward life wasconcerned, at this time--the feeling he had--"to satisfy myself"--whencombined with his love of beauty and love and women, still made himruthless and thoughtless. Even now, the beauty and delight of a girllike Aileen Butler were far more important to him than the good-will offifty million people, if he could evade the necessity of having theirgood-will. Previous to the Chicago fire and the panic, his star had beenso rapidly ascending that in the helter-skelter of great and favorableevents he had scarcely taken thought of the social significance of thething he was doing. Youth and the joy of life were in his blood. He feltso young, so vigorous, so like new grass looks and feels. The freshnessof spring evenings was in him, and he did not care. After thecrash, when one might have imagined he would have seen the wisdom ofrelinquishing Aileen for the time being, anyhow, he did not care to. Sherepresented the best of the wonderful days that had gone before. She wasa link between him and the past and a still-to-be triumphant future. 

His worst anxiety was that if he were sent to the penitentiary, oradjudged a bankrupt, or both, he would probably lose the privilege ofa seat on 'change, and that would close to him the most distinguishedavenue of his prosperity here in Philadelphia for some time, if notforever. At present, because of his complications, his seat had beenattached as an asset, and he could not act. Edward and Joseph, almostthe only employees he could afford, were still acting for him in a smallway; but the other members on 'change naturally suspected his brothersas his agents, and any talk that they might raise of going into businessfor themselves merely indicated to other brokers and bankers thatCowperwood was contemplating some concealed move which would notnecessarily be advantageous to his creditors, and against the lawanyhow. Yet he must remain on 'change, whatever happened, potentially ifnot actively; and so in his quick mental searchings he hit upon the ideathat in order to forfend against the event of his being put into prisonor thrown into bankruptcy, or both, he ought to form a subsidiary silentpartnership with some man who was or would be well liked on 'change, andwhom he could use as a cat's-paw and a dummy. 

Finally he hit upon a man who he thought would do. He did not amount tomuch--had a small business; but he was honest, and he liked Cowperwood. His name was Wingate--Stephen Wingate--and he was eking out a not toorobust existence in South Third Street as a broker. He was forty-fiveyears of age, of medium height, fairly thick-set, not at allunprepossessing, and rather intelligent and active, but not too forcefuland pushing in spirit. He really needed a man like Cowperwood to makehim into something, if ever he was to be made. He had a seat on 'change, and was well thought of; respected, but not so very prosperous. In timespast he had asked small favors of Cowperwood--the use of small loans ata moderate rate of interest, tips, and so forth; and Cowperwood, becausehe liked him and felt a little sorry for him, had granted them. NowWingate was slowly drifting down toward a none too successful old age, and was as tractable as such a man would naturally be. No one for thetime being would suspect him of being a hireling of Cowperwood's, andthe latter could depend on him to execute his orders to the letter. Hesent for him and had a long conversation with him. He told him just whatthe situation was, what he thought he could do for him as a partner, howmuch of his business he would want for himself, and so on, and found himagreeable. 

"I'll be glad to do anything you say, Mr. Cowperwood, " he assured thelatter. "I know whatever happens that you'll protect me, and there'snobody in the world I would rather work with or have greater respectfor. This storm will all blow over, and you'll be all right. We can tryit, anyhow. If it don't work out you can see what you want to do aboutit later. "

And so this relationship was tentatively entered into and Cowperwoodbegan to act in a small way through Wingate. 

Chapter XLVIII

By the time the State Supreme Court came to pass upon Cowperwood's pleafor a reversal of the lower court and the granting of a new trial, therumor of his connection with Aileen had spread far and wide. As has beenseen, it had done and was still doing him much damage. It confirmed theimpression, which the politicians had originally tried to create, that Cowperwood was the true criminal and Stener the victim. Hissemi-legitimate financial subtlety, backed indeed by his financialgenius, but certainly on this account not worse than that beingpracticed in peace and quiet and with much applause in many otherquarters--was now seen to be Machiavellian trickery of the mostdangerous type. He had a wife and two children; and without knowing whathis real thoughts had been the fruitfully imaginative public jumpedto the conclusion that he had been on the verge of deserting them, divorcing Lillian, and marrying Aileen. This was criminal enoughin itself, from the conservative point of view; but when taken inconnection with his financial record, his trial, conviction, and generalbankruptcy situation, the public was inclined to believe that he was allthe politicians said he was. He ought to be convicted. The SupremeCourt ought not to grant his prayer for a new trial. It is thus thatour inmost thoughts and intentions burst at times via no known materialagency into public thoughts. People know, when they cannotapparently possibly know why they know. There is such a thing asthought-transference and transcendentalism of ideas. 

It reached, for one thing, the ears of the five judges of the StateSupreme Court and of the Governor of the State. 

During the four weeks Cowperwood had been free on a certificate ofreasonable doubt both Harper Steger and Dennis Shannon appeared beforethe judges of the State Supreme Court, and argued pro and con as to thereasonableness of granting a new trial. Through his lawyer, Cowperwoodmade a learned appeal to the Supreme Court judges, showing how hehad been unfairly indicted in the first place, how there was no realsubstantial evidence on which to base a charge of larceny or anythingelse. It took Steger two hours and ten minutes to make his argument, and District-Attorney Shannon longer to make his reply, during which thefive judges on the bench, men of considerable legal experience but nogreat financial understanding, listened with rapt attention. Three ofthem, Judges Smithson, Rainey, and Beckwith, men most amenable to thepolitical feeling of the time and the wishes of the bosses, were littleinterested in this story of Cowperwood's transaction, particularly sincehis relations with Butler's daughter and Butler's consequent oppositionto him had come to them. They fancied that in a way they wereconsidering the whole matter fairly and impartially; but the manner inwhich Cowperwood had treated Butler was never out of their minds. Two ofthem, Judges Marvin and Rafalsky, who were men of larger sympathiesand understanding, but of no greater political freedom, did feel thatCowperwood had been badly used thus far, but they did not see what theycould do about it. He had put himself in a most unsatisfactory position, politically and socially. They understood and took into considerationhis great financial and social losses which Steger described accurately;and one of them, Judge Rafalsky, because of a similar event in his ownlife in so far as a girl was concerned, was inclined to argue stronglyagainst the conviction of Cowperwood; but, owing to his politicalconnections and obligations, he realized that it would not be wisepolitically to stand out against what was wanted. Still, when he andMarvin learned that Judges Smithson, Rainey, and Beckwith were inclinedto convict Cowperwood without much argument, they decided to hand down adissenting opinion. The point involved was a very knotty one. Cowperwoodmight carry it to the Supreme Court of the United States on somefundamental principle of liberty of action. Anyhow, other judges inother courts in Pennsylvania and elsewhere would be inclined to examinethe decision in this case, it was so important. The minority decidedthat it would not do them any harm to hand down a dissentingopinion. The politicians would not mind as long as Cowperwood wasconvicted--would like it better, in fact. It looked fairer. Besides, Marvin and Rafalsky did not care to be included, if they could helpit, with Smithson, Rainey, and Beckwith in a sweeping condemnation ofCowperwood. So all five judges fancied they were considering thewhole matter rather fairly and impartially, as men will under suchcircumstances. Smithson, speaking for himself and Judges Rainey andBeckwith on the eleventh of February, 1872, said:

"The defendant, Frank A. Cowperwood, asks that the finding of the juryin the lower court (the State of Pennsylvania vs. Frank A. Cowperwood)be reversed and a new trial granted. This court cannot see that anysubstantial injustice has been done the defendant. [Here followeda rather lengthy resume of the history of the case, in which it waspointed out that the custom and precedent of the treasurer's office, tosay nothing of Cowperwood's easy method of doing business with the citytreasury, could have nothing to do with his responsibility for failureto observe both the spirit and the letter of the law. ] The obtaining ofgoods under color of legal process [went on Judge Smithson, speakingfor the majority] may amount to larceny. In the present case it wasthe province of the jury to ascertain the felonious intent. They havesettled that against the defendant as a question of fact, and thecourt cannot say that there was not sufficient evidence to sustain theverdict. For what purpose did the defendant get the check? He was uponthe eve of failure. He had already hypothecated for his own debtsthe loan of the city placed in his hands for sale--he had unlawfullyobtained five hundred thousand dollars in cash as loans; and it isreasonable to suppose that he could obtain nothing more from the citytreasury by any ordinary means. Then it is that he goes there, and, by means of a falsehood implied if not actual, obtains sixty thousanddollars more. The jury has found the intent with which this was done. "

It was in these words that Cowperwood's appeal for a new trial wasdenied by the majority. 

For himself and Judge Rafalsky, Judge Marvin, dissenting, wrote:

"It is plain from the evidence in the case that Mr. Cowperwood did notreceive the check without authority as agent to do so, and it has notbeen clearly demonstrated that within his capacity as agent he did notperform or intend to perform the full measure of the obligation whichthe receipt of this check implied. It was shown in the trial that as amatter of policy it was understood that purchases for the sinking-fundshould not be known or understood in the market or by the public in thatlight, and that Mr. Cowperwood as agent was to have an absolutelyfree hand in the disposal of his assets and liabilities so long as theultimate result was satisfactory. There was no particular time when theloan was to be bought, nor was there any particular amount mentioned atany time to be purchased. Unless the defendant intended at the timehe received the check fraudulently to appropriate it he could not beconvicted even on the first count. The verdict of the jury does notestablish this fact; the evidence does not show conclusively that itcould be established; and the same jury, upon three other counts, foundthe defendant guilty without the semblance of shadow of evidence. Howcan we say that their conclusions upon the first count are unerring whenthey so palpably erred on the other counts? It is the opinion of theminority that the verdict of the jury in charging larceny on the firstcount is not valid, and that that verdict should be set aside and a newtrial granted. "

Judge Rafalsky, a meditative and yet practical man of Jewish extractionbut peculiarly American appearance, felt called upon to write a thirdopinion which should especially reflect his own cogitation and bea criticism on the majority as well as a slight variation from andaddition to the points on which he agreed with Judge Marvin. It wasa knotty question, this, of Cowperwood's guilt, and, aside from thepolitical necessity of convicting him, nowhere was it more clearly shownthan in these varying opinions of the superior court. Judge Rafalskyheld, for instance, that if a crime had been committed at all, it wasnot that known as larceny, and he went on to add:

"It is impossible, from the evidence, to come to the conclusion eitherthat Cowperwood did not intend shortly to deliver the loan or thatAlbert Stires, the chief clerk, or the city treasurer did not intendto part not only with the possession, but also and absolutely with theproperty in the check and the money represented by it. It was testifiedby Mr. Stires that Mr. Cowperwood said he had bought certificates ofcity loan to this amount, and it has not been clearly demonstrated thathe had not. His non-placement of the same in the sinking-fund must inall fairness, the letter of the law to the contrary notwithstanding, belooked upon and judged in the light of custom. Was it his custom so todo? In my judgment the doctrine now announced by the majority of thecourt extends the crime of constructive larceny to such limits that anybusiness man who engages in extensive and perfectly legitimate stocktransactions may, before he knows it, by a sudden panic in the marketor a fire, as in this instance, become a felon. When a principle isasserted which establishes such a precedent, and may lead to suchresults, it is, to say the least, startling. "

While he was notably comforted by the dissenting opinions of the judgesin minority, and while he had been schooling himself to expect the worstin this connection and had been arranging his affairs as well as hecould in anticipation of it, Cowperwood was still bitterly disappointed. It would be untrue to say that, strong and self-reliant as he normallywas, he did not suffer. He was not without sensibilities of the highestorder, only they were governed and controlled in him by that cold ironthing, his reason, which never forsook him. There was no further appealpossible save to the United States Supreme Court, as Steger pointed out, and there only on the constitutionality of some phase of the decisionand his rights as a citizen, of which the Supreme Court of the UnitedStates must take cognizance. This was a tedious and expensive thing todo. It was not exactly obvious at the moment on what point he could makean appeal. It would involve a long delay--perhaps a year and a half, perhaps longer, at the end of which period he might have to serve hisprison term anyhow, and pending which he would certainly have to undergoincarceration for a time. 

Cowperwood mused speculatively for a few moments after hearing Steger'spresentation of the case. Then he said: "Well, it looks as if I have togo to jail or leave the country, and I've decided on jail. I can fightthis out right here in Philadelphia in the long run and win. I can getthat decision reversed in the Supreme Court, or I can get the Governorto pardon me after a time, I think. I'm not going to run away, andeverybody knows I'm not. These people who think they have me downhaven't got one corner of me whipped. I'll get out of this thing aftera while, and when I do I'll show some of these petty little politicianswhat it means to put up a real fight. They'll never get a damned dollarout of me now--not a dollar! I did intend to pay that five hundredthousand dollars some time if they had let me go. Now they can whistle!"

He set his teeth and his gray eyes fairly snapped their determination. 

"Well, I've done all I can, Frank, " pleaded Steger, sympathetically. "You'll do me the justice to say that I put up the best fight I knewhow. I may not know how--you'll have to answer for that--but within mylimits I've done the best I can. I can do a few things more to carrythis thing on, if you want me to, but I'm going to leave it to you now. Whatever you say goes. "

"Don't talk nonsense at this stage, Harper, " replied Cowperwood almosttestily. "I know whether I'm satisfied or not, and I'd soon tell you ifI wasn't. I think you might as well go on and see if you can find somedefinite grounds for carrying it to the Supreme Court, but meanwhileI'll begin my sentence. I suppose Payderson will be naming a day to haveme brought before him now shortly. "

"It depends on how you'd like to have it, Frank. I could get a stayof sentence for a week maybe, or ten days, if it will do you any good. Shannon won't make any objection to that, I'm sure. There's only onehitch. Jaspers will be around here tomorrow looking for you. It's hisduty to take you into custody again, once he's notified that your appealhas been denied. He'll be wanting to lock you up unless you pay him, but we can fix that. If you do want to wait, and want any time off, I suppose he'll arrange to let you out with a deputy; but I'm afraidyou'll have to stay there nights. They're pretty strict about that sincethat Albertson case of a few years ago. "

Steger referred to the case of a noted bank cashier who, being let outof the county jail at night in the alleged custody of a deputy, waspermitted to escape. There had been emphatic and severe condemnation ofthe sheriff's office at the time, and since then, repute or no repute, money or no money, convicted criminals were supposed to stay in thecounty jail at night at least. 

Cowperwood meditated this calmly, looking out of the lawyer's windowinto Second Street. He did not much fear anything that might happento him in Jaspers's charge since his first taste of that gentleman'shospitality, although he did object to spending nights in the countyjail when his general term of imprisonment was being reduced no whitthereby. All that he could do now in connection with his affairs, unlesshe could have months of freedom, could be as well adjusted from a prisoncell as from his Third Street office--not quite, but nearly so. Anyhow, why parley? He was facing a prison term, and he might as well accept itwithout further ado. He might take a day or two finally to look afterhis affairs; but beyond that, why bother?

"When, in the ordinary course of events, if you did nothing at all, would I come up for sentence?"

"Oh, Friday or Monday, I fancy, " replied Steger. "I don't know what moveShannon is planning to make in this matter. I thought I'd walk aroundand see him in a little while. "

"I think you'd better do that, " replied Cowperwood. "Friday or Mondaywill suit me, either way. I'm really not particular. Better make itMonday if you can. You don't suppose there is any way you can induceJaspers to keep his hands off until then? He knows I'm perfectlyresponsible. "

"I don't know, Frank, I'm sure; I'll see. I'll go around and talk to himto-night. Perhaps a hundred dollars will make him relax the rigor of hisrules that much. "

Cowperwood smiled grimly. 

"I fancy a hundred dollars would make Jaspers relax a whole lot ofrules, " he replied, and he got up to go. 

Steger arose also. "I'll see both these people, and then I'll callaround at your house. You'll be in, will you, after dinner?"

"Yes. "

They slipped on their overcoats and went out into the cold February day, Cowperwood back to his Third Street office, Steger to see Shannon andJaspers. 

Chapter XLIX

The business of arranging Cowperwood's sentence for Monday was soondisposed of through Shannon, who had no personal objection to anyreasonable delay. 

Steger next visited the county jail, close on to five o'clock, whenit was already dark. Sheriff Jaspers came lolling out from his privatelibrary, where he had been engaged upon the work of cleaning his pipe. 

"How are you, Mr. Steger?" he observed, smiling blandly. "How are you?Glad to see you. Won't you sit down? I suppose you're round here againon that Cowperwood matter. I just received word from the districtattorney that he had lost his case. "

"That's it, Sheriff, " replied Steger, ingratiatingly. "He asked meto step around and see what you wanted him to do in the matter. JudgePayderson has just fixed the sentence time for Monday morning at teno'clock. I don't suppose you'll be much put out if he doesn't show uphere before Monday at eight o'clock, will you, or Sunday night, anyhow?He's perfectly reliable, as you know. " Steger was sounding Jaspersout, politely trying to make the time of Cowperwood's arrival a trivialmatter in order to avoid paying the hundred dollars, if possible. ButJaspers was not to be so easily disposed of. His fat face lengthenedconsiderably. How could Steger ask him such a favor and not even suggestthe slightest form of remuneration?

"It's ag'in' the law, Mr. Steger, as you know, " he began, cautiouslyand complainingly. "I'd like to accommodate him, everything else beingequal, but since that Albertson case three years ago we've had to runthis office much more careful, and--"

"Oh, I know, Sheriff, " interrupted Steger, blandly, "but this isn't anordinary case in any way, as you can see for yourself. Mr. Cowperwood isa very important man, and he has a great many things to attend to. Nowif it were only a mere matter of seventy-five or a hundred dollarsto satisfy some court clerk with, or to pay a fine, it would be easyenough, but--" He paused and looked wisely away, and Mr. Jaspers's facebegan to relax at once. The law against which it was ordinarily so hardto offend was not now so important. Steger saw that it was needless tointroduce any additional arguments. 

"It's a very ticklish business, this, Mr. Steger, " put in the sheriff, yieldingly, and yet with a slight whimper in his voice. "If anythingwere to happen, it would cost me my place all right. I don't like to doit under any circumstances, and I wouldn't, only I happen to know bothMr. Cowperwood and Mr. Stener, and I like 'em both. I don' thinkthey got their rights in this matter, either. I don't mind making anexception in this case if Mr. Cowperwood don't go about too publicly. Iwouldn't want any of the men in the district attorney's office to knowthis. I don't suppose he'll mind if I keep a deputy somewhere near allthe time for looks' sake. I have to, you know, really, under the law. He won't bother him any. Just keep on guard like. " Jaspers looked atMr. Steger very flatly and wisely--almost placatingly under thecircumstances--and Steger nodded. 

"Quite right, Sheriff, quite right. You're quite right, " and he drew outhis purse while the sheriff led the way very cautiously back into hislibrary. 

"I'd like to show you the line of law-books I'm fixing up for myselfin here, Mr. Steger, " he observed, genially, but meanwhile closing hisfingers gently on the small roll of ten-dollar bills Steger was handinghim. "We have occasional use for books of that kind here, as you see. Ithought it a good sort of thing to have them around. " He waved one armcomprehensively at the line of State reports, revised statutes, prisonregulations, etc. , the while he put the money in his pocket and Stegerpretended to look. 

"A good idea, I think, Sheriff. Very good, indeed. So you think if Mr. Cowperwood gets around here very early Monday morning, say eight oreight-thirty, that it will be all right?"

"I think so, " replied the sheriff, curiously nervous, but agreeable, anxious to please. "I don't think that anything will come up that willmake me want him earlier. If it does I'll let you know, and you canproduce him. I don't think so, though, Mr. Steger; I think everythingwill be all right. " They were once more in the main hall now. "Glad tohave seen you again, Mr. Steger--very glad, " he added. "Call again someday. "

Waving the sheriff a pleasant farewell, he hurried on his way toCowperwood's house. 

You would not have thought, seeing Cowperwood mount the front steps ofhis handsome residence in his neat gray suit and well-cut overcoat onhis return from his office that evening, that he was thinking that thismight be his last night here. His air and walk indicated no weakeningof spirit. He entered the hall, where an early lamp was aglow, andencountered "Wash" Sims, an old negro factotum, who was just coming upfrom the basement, carrying a bucket of coal for one of the fireplaces. 

"Mahty cold out, dis evenin', Mistah Coppahwood, " said Wash, to whomanything less than sixty degrees was very cold. His one regret was thatPhiladelphia was not located in North Carolina, from whence he came. 

"'Tis sharp, Wash, " replied Cowperwood, absentmindedly. He was thinkingfor the moment of the house and how it had looked, as he came toward itwest along Girard Avenue--what the neighbors were thinking of him, too, observing him from time to time out of their windows. It was clear andcold. The lamps in the reception-hall and sitting-room had been lit, forhe had permitted no air of funereal gloom to settle down over thisplace since his troubles had begun. In the far west of the street a lasttingling gleam of lavender and violet was showing over the cold whitesnow of the roadway. The house of gray-green stone, with its lightedwindows, and cream-colored lace curtains, had looked especiallyattractive. He had thought for the moment of the pride he had taken inputting all this here, decorating and ornamenting it, and whether, ever, he could secure it for himself again. "Where is your mistress?" he addedto Wash, when he bethought himself. 

"In the sitting-room, Mr. Coppahwood, ah think. "

Cowperwood ascended the stairs, thinking curiously that Wash would soonbe out of a job now, unless Mrs. Cowperwood, out of all the wreck ofother things, chose to retain him, which was not likely. He entered thesitting-room, and there sat his wife by the oblong center-table, sewinga hook and eye on one of Lillian, second's, petticoats. She lookedup, at his step, with the peculiarly uncertain smile she used thesedays--indication of her pain, fear, suspicion--and inquired, "Well, whatis new with you, Frank?" Her smile was something like a hat or belt orornament which one puts on or off at will. 

"Nothing in particular, " he replied, in his offhand way, "except that Iunderstand I have lost that appeal of mine. Steger is coming here ina little while to let me know. I had a note from him, and I fancy it'sabout that. "

He did not care to say squarely that he had lost. He knew that she wassufficiently distressed as it was, and he did not care to be too abruptjust now. 

"You don't say!" replied Lillian, with surprise and fright in her voice, and getting up. 

She had been so used to a world where prisons were scarcely thought of, where things went on smoothly from day to day without any noticeableintrusion of such distressing things as courts, jails, and the like, that these last few months had driven her nearly mad. Cowperwood had sodefinitely insisted on her keeping in the background--he had told herso very little that she was all at sea anyhow in regard to the wholeprocedure. Nearly all that she had had in the way of intelligence hadbeen from his father and mother and Anna, and from a close and almostsecret scrutiny of the newspapers. 

At the time he had gone to the county jail she did not even knowanything about it until his father had come back from the court-room andthe jail and had broken the news to her. It had been a terrific blow toher. Now to have this thing suddenly broken to her in this offhand way, even though she had been expecting and dreading it hourly, was too much. 

She was still a decidedly charming-looking woman as she stood holdingher daughter's garment in her hand, even if she was forty years old toCowperwood's thirty-five. She was robed in one of the creations of theirlate prosperity, a cream-colored gown of rich silk, with dark browntrimmings--a fetching combination for her. Her eyes were a littlehollow, and reddish about the rims, but otherwise she showed no sign ofher keen mental distress. There was considerable evidence of the formertranquil sweetness that had so fascinated him ten years before. 

"Isn't that terrible?" she said, weakly, her hands trembling in anervous way. "Isn't it dreadful? Isn't there anything more you can do, truly? You won't really have to go to prison, will you?" He objectedto her distress and her nervous fears. He preferred a stronger, moreself-reliant type of woman, but still she was his wife, and in his dayhe had loved her much. 

"It looks that way, Lillian, " he said, with the first note of realsympathy he had used in a long while, for he felt sorry for her now. Atthe same time he was afraid to go any further along that line, for fearit might give her a false sense as to his present attitude toward herwhich was one essentially of indifference. But she was not so dull butwhat she could see that the consideration in his voice had been broughtabout by his defeat, which meant hers also. She choked a little--andeven so was touched. The bare suggestion of sympathy brought back theold days so definitely gone forever. If only they could be brought back!

"I don't want you to feel distressed about me, though, " he went on, before she could say anything to him. "I'm not through with my fighting. I'll get out of this. I have to go to prison, it seems, in order to getthings straightened out properly. What I would like you to do is to keepup a cheerful appearance in front of the rest of the family--father andmother particularly. They need to be cheered up. " He thought once oftaking her hand, then decided not. She noted mentally his hesitation, the great difference between his attitude now and that of ten or twelveyears before. It did not hurt her now as much as she once would havethought. She looked at him, scarcely knowing what to say. There wasreally not so much to say. 

"Will you have to go soon, if you do have to go?" she ventured, wearily. 

"I can't tell yet. Possibly to-night. Possibly Friday. Possibly notuntil Monday. I'm waiting to hear from Steger. I expect him here anyminute. "

To prison! To prison! Her Frank Cowperwood, her husband--the substanceof their home here--and all their soul destruction going to prison. Andeven now she scarcely grasped why! She stood there wondering what shecould do. 

"Is there anything I can get for you?" she asked, starting forward as ifout of a dream. "Do you want me to do anything? Don't you think perhapsyou had better leave Philadelphia, Frank? You needn't go to prisonunless you want to. "

She was a little beside herself, for the first time in her life shockedout of a deadly calm. 

He paused and looked at her for a moment in his direct, examining way, his hard commercial business judgment restored on the instant. 

"That would be a confession of guilt, Lillian, and I'm not guilty, "he replied, almost coldly. "I haven't done anything that warrants myrunning away or going to prison, either. I'm merely going there to savetime at present. I can't be litigating this thing forever. I'll getout--be pardoned out or sued out in a reasonable length of time. Justnow it's better to go, I think. I wouldn't think of running away fromPhiladelphia. Two of five judges found for me in the decision. That'spretty fair evidence that the State has no case against me. "

His wife saw she had made a mistake. It clarified her judgment onthe instant. "I didn't mean in that way, Frank, " she replied, apologetically. "You know I didn't. Of course I know you're not guilty. Why should I think you were, of all people?"

She paused, expecting some retort, some further argument--a kind wordmaybe. A trace of the older, baffling love, but he had quietly turned tohis desk and was thinking of other things. 

At this point the anomaly of her own state came over her again. It wasall so sad and so hopeless. And what was she to do in the future? Andwhat was he likely to do? She paused half trembling and yet decided, because of her peculiarly nonresisting nature--why trespass on his time?Why bother? No good would really come of it. He really did not care forher any more--that was it. Nothing could make him, nothing could bringthem together again, not even this tragedy. He was interested in anotherwoman--Aileen--and so her foolish thoughts and explanations, her fear, sorrow, distress, were not important to him. He could take her agonizedwish for his freedom as a comment on his probable guilt, a doubt ofhis innocence, a criticism of him! She turned away for a minute, and hestarted to leave the room. 

"I'll be back again in a few moments, " he volunteered. "Are the childrenhere?"

"Yes, they're up in the play-room, " she answered, sadly, utterlynonplussed and distraught. 

"Oh, Frank!" she had it on her lips to cry, but before she could utterit he had bustled down the steps and was gone. She turned back to thetable, her left hand to her mouth, her eyes in a queer, hazy, melancholymist. Could it be, she thought, that life could really come tothis--that love could so utterly, so thoroughly die? Ten yearsbefore--but, oh, why go back to that? Obviously it could, and thoughtsconcerning that would not help now. Twice now in her life her affairshad seemed to go to pieces--once when her first husband had died, andnow when her second had failed her, had fallen in love with another andwas going to be sent off to prison. What was it about her that causedsuch things? Was there anything wrong with her? What was she going todo? Where go? She had no idea, of course, for how long a term of yearshe would be sent away. It might be one year or it might be five years, as the papers had said. Good heavens! The children could almost come toforget him in five years. She put her other hand to her mouth, also, andthen to her forehead, where there was a dull ache. She tried to thinkfurther than this, but somehow, just now, there was no further thought. Suddenly quite outside of her own volition, with no thought that shewas going to do such a thing, her bosom began to heave, her throatcontracted in four or five short, sharp, aching spasms, her eyes burned, and she shook in a vigorous, anguished, desperate, almost one might havesaid dry-eyed, cry, so hot and few were the tears. She could not stopfor the moment, just stood there and shook, and then after a while adull ache succeeded, and she was quite as she had been before. 

"Why cry?" she suddenly asked herself, fiercely--for her. "Why breakdown in this stormy, useless way? Would it help?"

But, in spite of her speculative, philosophic observations to herself, she still felt the echo, the distant rumble, as it were, of the storm inher own soul. "Why cry? Why not cry?" She might have said--but wouldn't, and in spite of herself and all her logic, she knew that this tempestwhich had so recently raged over her was now merely circling around hersoul's horizon and would return to break again. 

Chapter L

The arrival of Steger with the information that no move of any kindwould be made by the sheriff until Monday morning, when Cowperwood couldpresent himself, eased matters. This gave him time to think--to adjusthome details at his leisure. He broke the news to his father and motherin a consoling way and talked with his brothers and father about gettingmatters immediately adjusted in connection with the smaller houses towhich they were now shortly to be compelled to move. There was muchconferring among the different members of this collapsing organizationin regard to the minor details; and what with his conferences withSteger, his seeing personally Davison, Leigh, Avery Stone, of Jay Cooke& Co. , George Waterman (his old-time employer Henry was dead), ex-State Treasurer Van Nostrand, who had gone out with the last Stateadministration, and others, he was very busy. Now that he was reallygoing into prison, he wanted his financial friends to get together andsee if they could get him out by appealing to the Governor. The divisionof opinion among the judges of the State Supreme Court was his excuseand strong point. He wanted Steger to follow this up, and he spared nopains in trying to see all and sundry who might be of use to him--EdwardTighe, of Tighe & Co. , who was still in business in Third Street; NewtonTargool; Arthur Rivers; Joseph Zimmerman, the dry-goods prince, now amillionaire; Judge Kitchen; Terrence Relihan, the former representativeof the money element at Harrisburg; and many others. 

Cowperwood wanted Relihan to approach the newspapers and see if he couldnot readjust their attitude so as to work to get him out, and he wantedWalter Leigh to head the movement of getting up a signed petition whichshould contain all the important names of moneyed people and others, asking the Governor to release him. Leigh agreed to this heartily, asdid Relihan, and many others. 

And, afterwards there was really nothing else to do, unless it was tosee Aileen once more, and this, in the midst of his other complicationsand obligations, seemed all but impossible at times--and yet he didachieve that, too--so eager was he to be soothed and comforted by theignorant and yet all embracing volume of her love. Her eyes these days!The eager, burning quest of him and his happiness that blazed inthem. To think that he should be tortured so--her Frank! Oh, sheknew--whatever he said, and however bravely and jauntily he talked. Tothink that her love for him should have been the principal cause of hisbeing sent to jail, as she now believed. And the cruelty of her father!And the smallness of his enemies--that fool Stener, for instance, whosepictures she had seen in the papers. Actually, whenever in the presenceof her Frank, she fairly seethed in a chemic agony for him--her strong, handsome lover--the strongest, bravest, wisest, kindest, handsomest manin the world. Oh, didn't she know! And Cowperwood, looking in her eyesand realizing this reasonless, if so comforting fever for him, smiledand was touched. Such love! That of a dog for a master; that of a motherfor a child. And how had he come to evoke it? He could not say, but itwas beautiful. 

And so, now, in these last trying hours, he wished to see her much--anddid--meeting her at least four times in the month in which he had beenfree, between his conviction and the final dismissal of his appeal. Hehad one last opportunity of seeing her--and she him--just before hisentrance into prison this last time--on the Saturday before the Mondayof his sentence. He had not come in contact with her since the decisionof the Supreme Court had been rendered, but he had had a letter from hersent to a private mail-box, and had made an appointment for Saturday ata small hotel in Camden, which, being across the river, was safer, inhis judgment, than anything in Philadelphia. He was a little uncertainas to how she would take the possibility of not seeing him soon againafter Monday, and how she would act generally once he was where shecould not confer with him as often as she chose. And in consequence, hewas anxious to talk to her. But on this occasion, as he anticipated, andeven feared, so sorry for her was he, she was not less emphatic in herprotestations than she had ever been; in fact, much more so. When shesaw him approaching in the distance, she went forward to meet him inthat direct, forceful way which only she could attempt with him, a sortof mannish impetuosity which he both enjoyed and admired, and slippingher arms around his neck, said: "Honey, you needn't tell me. I saw itin the papers the other morning. Don't you mind, honey. I love you. I'll wait for you. I'll be with you yet, if it takes a dozen years ofwaiting. It doesn't make any difference to me if it takes a hundred, only I'm so sorry for you, sweetheart. I'll be with you every daythrough this, darling, loving you with all my might. "

She caressed him while he looked at her in that quiet way whichbetokened at once his self-poise and yet his interest and satisfactionin her. He couldn't help loving Aileen, he thought who could? She wasso passionate, vibrant, desireful. He couldn't help admiring hertremendously, now more than ever, because literally, in spite of all hisintellectual strength, he really could not rule her. She went at him, even when he stood off in a calm, critical way, as if he wereher special property, her toy. She would talk to him always, andparticularly when she was excited, as if he were just a baby, her pet;and sometimes he felt as though she would really overcome him mentally, make him subservient to her, she was so individual, so sure of herimportance as a woman. 

Now on this occasion she went babbling on as if he were broken-hearted, in need of her greatest care and tenderness, although he really wasn'tat all; and for the moment she actually made him feel as though he was. 

"It isn't as bad as that, Aileen, " he ventured to say, eventually; andwith a softness and tenderness almost unusual for him, even where shewas concerned, but she went on forcefully, paying no heed to him. 

"Oh, yes, it is, too, honey. I know. Oh, my poor Frank! But I'll seeyou. I know how to manage, whatever happens. How often do they letvisitors come out to see the prisoners there?"

"Only once in three months, pet, so they say, but I think we can fixthat after I get there; only do you think you had better try to comeright away, Aileen? You know what the feeling now is. Hadn't you betterwait a while? Aren't you in danger of stirring up your father? He mightcause a lot of trouble out there if he were so minded. "

"Only once in three months!" she exclaimed, with rising emphasis, ashe began this explanation. "Oh, Frank, no! Surely not! Once in threemonths! Oh, I can't stand that! I won't! I'll go and see the wardenmyself. He'll let me see you. I'm sure he will, if I talk to him. "

She fairly gasped in her excitement, not willing to pause in her tirade, but Cowperwood interposed with her, "You're not thinking what you'resaying, Aileen. You're not thinking. Remember your father! Remember yourfamily! Your father may know the warden out there. You don't want it toget all over town that you're running out there to see me, do you? Yourfather might cause you trouble. Besides you don't know the small partypoliticians as I do. They gossip like a lot of old women. You'll have tobe very careful what you do and how you do it. I don't want to lose you. I want to see you. But you'll have to mind what you're doing. Don't tryto see me at once. I want you to, but I want to find out how the landlies, and I want you to find out too. You won't lose me. I'll be there, well enough. "

He paused as he thought of the long tier of iron cells which must bethere, one of which would be his--for how long?--and of Aileen seeinghim through the door of it or in it. At the same time he was thinking, in spite of all his other calculations, how charming she was lookingto-day. How young she kept, and how forceful! While he was nearing hisfull maturity she was a comparatively young girl, and as beautiful asever. She was wearing a black-and-white-striped silk in the curiousbustle style of the times, and a set of sealskin furs, including alittle sealskin cap set jauntily on top her red-gold hair. 

"I know, I know, " replied Aileen, firmly. "But think of three months!Honey, I can't! I won't! It's nonsense. Three months! I know thatmy father wouldn't have to wait any three months if he wanted to seeanybody out there, nor anybody else that he wanted to ask favors for. And I won't, either. I'll find some way. "

Cowperwood had to smile. You could not defeat Aileen so easily. 

"But you're not your father, honey; and you don't want him to know. "

"I know I don't, but they don't need to know who I am. I can go heavilyveiled. I don't think that the warden knows my father. He may. Anyhow, he doesn't know me; and he wouldn't tell on me if he did if I talked tohim. "

Her confidence in her charms, her personality, her earthly privilegeswas quite anarchistic. Cowperwood shook his head. 

"Honey, you're about the best and the worst there is when it comes to awoman, " he observed, affectionately, pulling her head down to kissher, "but you'll have to listen to me just the same. I have a lawyer, Steger--you know him. He's going to take up this matter with the wardenout there--is doing it today. He may be able to fix things, and he maynot. I'll know to-morrow or Sunday, and I'll write you. But don't go anddo anything rash until you hear. I'm sure I can cut that visiting limitin half, and perhaps down to once a month or once in two weeks even. They only allow me to write one letter in three months"--Aileen explodedagain--"and I'm sure I can have that made different--some; but don'twrite me until you hear, or at least don't sign any name or put anyaddress in. They open all mail and read it. If you see me or write meyou'll have to be cautious, and you're not the most cautious person inthe world. Now be good, will you?"

They talked much more--of his family, his court appearance Monday, whether he would get out soon to attend any of the suits still pending, or be pardoned. Aileen still believed in his future. She had read theopinions of the dissenting judges in his favor, and that of thethree agreed judges against him. She was sure his day was not over inPhiladelphia, and that he would some time reestablish himself and thentake her with him somewhere else. She was sorry for Mrs. Cowperwood, butshe was convinced that she was not suited to him--that Frank needed someone more like herself, some one with youth and beauty and force--her, noless. She clung to him now in ecstatic embraces until it was time to go. So far as a plan of procedure could have been adjusted in a situation soincapable of accurate adjustment, it had been done. She was desperatelydowncast at the last moment, as was he, over their parting; but shepulled herself together with her usual force and faced the dark futurewith a steady eye. 

Chapter LI

Monday came and with it his final departure. All that could be done hadbeen done. Cowperwood said his farewells to his mother and father, his brothers and sister. He had a rather distant but sensible andmatter-of-fact talk with his wife. He made no special point of sayinggood-by to his son or his daughter; when he came in on Thursday, Friday, Saturday, and Sunday evenings, after he had learned that he was todepart Monday, it was with the thought of talking to them a little inan especially affectionate way. He realized that his general moral orunmoral attitude was perhaps working them a temporary injustice. Stillhe was not sure. Most people did fairly well with their lives, whethercoddled or deprived of opportunity. These children would probably do aswell as most children, whatever happened--and then, anyhow, he had nointention of forsaking them financially, if he could help it. He didnot want to separate his wife from her children, nor them from her. Sheshould keep them. He wanted them to be comfortable with her. He wouldlike to see them, wherever they were with her, occasionally. Onlyhe wanted his own personal freedom, in so far as she and they wereconcerned, to go off and set up a new world and a new home with Aileen. So now on these last days, and particularly this last Sunday night, hewas rather noticeably considerate of his boy and girl, without being tooopenly indicative of his approaching separation from them. 

"Frank, " he said to his notably lackadaisical son on this occasion, "aren't you going to straighten up and be a big, strong, healthy fellow?You don't play enough. You ought to get in with a gang of boys and be aleader. Why don't you fit yourself up a gymnasium somewhere and see howstrong you can get?"

They were in the senior Cowperwood's sitting-room, where they had allrather consciously gathered on this occasion. 

Lillian, second, who was on the other side of the big library table fromher father, paused to survey him and her brother with interest. Bothhad been carefully guarded against any real knowledge of their father'saffairs or his present predicament. He was going away on a journey forabout a month or so they understood. Lillian was reading in a Chatterboxbook which had been given her the previous Christmas. 

"He won't do anything, " she volunteered, looking up from her reading ina peculiarly critical way for her. "Why, he won't ever run races with mewhen I want him to. "

"Aw, who wants to run races with you, anyhow?" returned Frank, junior, sourly. "You couldn't run if I did want to run with you. "

"Couldn't I?" she replied. "I could beat you, all right. "

"Lillian!" pleaded her mother, with a warning sound in her voice. 

Cowperwood smiled, and laid his hand affectionately on his son's head. "You'll be all right, Frank, " he volunteered, pinching his ear lightly. "Don't worry--just make an effort. "

The boy did not respond as warmly as he hoped. Later in the evening Mrs. Cowperwood noticed that her husband squeezed his daughter's slim littlewaist and pulled her curly hair gently. For the moment she was jealousof her daughter. 

"Going to be the best kind of a girl while I'm away?" he said to her, privately. 

"Yes, papa, " she replied, brightly. 

"That's right, " he returned, and leaned over and kissed her mouthtenderly. "Button Eyes, " he said. 

Mrs. Cowperwood sighed after he had gone. "Everything for the children, nothing for me, " she thought, though the children had not got so vastlymuch either in the past. 

Cowperwood's attitude toward his mother in this final hour was aboutas tender and sympathetic as any he could maintain in this world. Heunderstood quite clearly the ramifications of her interests, and how shewas suffering for him and all the others concerned. He had not forgottenher sympathetic care of him in his youth; and if he could have doneanything to have spared her this unhappy breakdown of her fortunes inher old age, he would have done so. There was no use crying over spilledmilk. It was impossible at times for him not to feel intensely inmoments of success or failure; but the proper thing to do was to bearup, not to show it, to talk little and go your way with an air not somuch of resignation as of self-sufficiency, to whatever was awaitingyou. That was his attitude on this morning, and that was what heexpected from those around him--almost compelled, in fact, by his ownattitude. 

"Well, mother, " he said, genially, at the last moment--he would not lether nor his wife nor his sister come to court, maintaining that it wouldmake not the least difference to him and would only harrow their ownfeelings uselessly--"I'm going now. Don't worry. Keep up your spirits. "

He slipped his arm around his mother's waist, and she gave him a long, unrestrained, despairing embrace and kiss. 

"Go on, Frank, " she said, choking, when she let him go. "God bless you. I'll pray for you. " He paid no further attention to her. He didn't dare. 

"Good-by, Lillian, " he said to his wife, pleasantly, kindly. "I'll beback in a few days, I think. I'll be coming out to attend some of thesecourt proceedings. "

To his sister he said: "Good-by, Anna. Don't let the others get toodown-hearted. "

"I'll see you three afterward, " he said to his father and brothers; andso, dressed in the very best fashion of the time, he hurried down intothe reception-hall, where Steger was waiting, and was off. His family, hearing the door close on him, suffered a poignant sense of desolation. They stood there for a moment, his mother crying, his father lookingas though he had lost his last friend but making a great effort to seemself-contained and equal to his troubles, Anna telling Lillian not tomind, and the latter staring dumbly into the future, not knowing whatto think. Surely a brilliant sun had set on their local scene, and in avery pathetic way. 

Chapter LII

When Cowperwood reached the jail, Jaspers was there, glad to see him butprincipally relieved to feel that nothing had happened to mar hisown reputation as a sheriff. Because of the urgency of court mattersgenerally, it was decided to depart for the courtroom at nine o'clock. Eddie Zanders was once more delegated to see that Cowperwood was broughtsafely before Judge Payderson and afterward taken to the penitentiary. All of the papers in the case were put in his care to be delivered tothe warden. 

"I suppose you know, " confided Sheriff Jaspers to Steger, "that Steneris here. He ain't got no money now, but I gave him a private room justthe same. I didn't want to put a man like him in no cell. " SheriffJaspers sympathized with Stener. 

"That's right. I'm glad to hear that, " replied Steger, smiling tohimself. 

"I didn't suppose from what I've heard that Mr. Cowperwood would want tomeet Stener here, so I've kept 'em apart. George just left a minute agowith another deputy. "

"That's good. That's the way it ought to be, " replied Steger. He wasglad for Cowperwood's sake that the sheriff had so much tact. EvidentlyGeorge and the sheriff were getting along in a very friendly way, forall the former's bitter troubles and lack of means. 

The Cowperwood party walked, the distance not being great, and as theydid so they talked of rather simple things to avoid the more serious. 

"Things aren't going to be so bad, " Edward said to his father. "Stegersays the Governor is sure to pardon Stener in a year or less, and if hedoes he's bound to let Frank out too. "

Cowperwood, the elder, had heard this over and over, but he was nevertired of hearing it. It was like some simple croon with which babies arehushed to sleep. The snow on the ground, which was enduring remarkablywell for this time of year, the fineness of the day, which had startedout to be clear and bright, the hope that the courtroom might not befull, all held the attention of the father and his two sons. Cowperwood, senior, even commented on some sparrows fighting over a piece ofbread, marveling how well they did in winter, solely to ease hismind. Cowperwood, walking on ahead with Steger and Zanders, talked ofapproaching court proceedings in connection with his business and whatought to be done. 

When they reached the court the same little pen in which Cowperwood hadawaited the verdict of his jury several months before was waiting toreceive him. 

Cowperwood, senior, and his other sons sought places in the courtroomproper. Eddie Zanders remained with his charge. Stener and a deputy bythe name of Wilkerson were in the room; but he and Cowperwood pretendednow not to see each other. Frank had no objection to talking to hisformer associate, but he could see that Stener was diffident andashamed. So he let the situation pass without look or word of any kind. After some three-quarters of an hour of dreary waiting the door leadinginto the courtroom proper opened and a bailiff stepped in. 

"All prisoners up for sentence, " he called. 

There were six, all told, including Cowperwood and Stener. Two of themwere confederate housebreakers who had been caught red-handed at theirmidnight task. 

Another prisoner was no more and no less than a plain horse-thief, ayoung man of twenty-six, who had been convicted by a jury of stealinga grocer's horse and selling it. The last man was a negro, a tall, shambling, illiterate, nebulous-minded black, who had walked off withan apparently discarded section of lead pipe which he had found in alumber-yard. His idea was to sell or trade it for a drink. He reallydid not belong in this court at all; but, having been caught by anundersized American watchman charged with the care of the property, andhaving at first refused to plead guilty, not quite understanding whatwas to be done with him, he had been perforce bound over to this courtfor trial. Afterward he had changed his mind and admitted his guilt, sohe now had to come before Judge Payderson for sentence or dismissal. The lower court before which he had originally been brought had lostjurisdiction by binding him over to to higher court for trial. Eddie Zanders, in his self-appointed position as guide and mentor toCowperwood, had confided nearly all of this data to him as he stoodwaiting. 

The courtroom was crowded. It was very humiliating to Cowperwood to haveto file in this way along the side aisle with these others, followed byStener, well dressed but sickly looking and disconsolate. 

The negro, Charles Ackerman, was the first on the list. 

"How is it this man comes before me?" asked Payderson, peevishly, whenhe noted the value of the property Ackerman was supposed to have stolen. 

"Your honor, " the assistant district attorney explained, promptly, "this man was before a lower court and refused, because he was drunk, or something, to plead guilty. The lower court, because the complainantwould not forego the charge, was compelled to bind him over to thiscourt for trial. Since then he has changed his mind and has admittedhis guilt to the district attorney. He would not be brought before youexcept we have no alternative. He has to be brought here now in order toclear the calendar. "

Judge Payderson stared quizzically at the negro, who, obviously not verymuch disturbed by this examination, was leaning comfortably on the gateor bar before which the average criminal stood erect and terrified. He had been before police-court magistrates before on one charge andanother--drunkenness, disorderly conduct, and the like--but his wholeattitude was one of shambling, lackadaisical, amusing innocence. 

"Well, Ackerman, " inquired his honor, severely, "did you or did you notsteal this piece of lead pipe as charged here--four dollars and eightycents' worth?"

"Yassah, I did, " he began. "I tell you how it was, jedge. I was a-comin'along past dat lumber-yard one Saturday afternoon, and I hadn't beenwuckin', an' I saw dat piece o' pipe thoo de fence, lyin' inside, and Ijes' reached thoo with a piece o' boad I found dey and pulled it overto me an' tuck it. An' aftahwahd dis Mistah Watchman man"--he waved hishand oratorically toward the witness-chair, where, in case the judgemight wish to ask him some questions, the complainant had taken hisstand--"come around tuh where I live an' accused me of done takin' it. "

"But you did take it, didn't you?"

"Yassah, I done tuck it. "

"What did you do with it?"

"I traded it foh twenty-five cents. "

"You mean you sold it, " corrected his honor. 

"Yassah, I done sold it. "

"Well, don't you know it's wrong to do anything like that? Didn't youknow when you reached through that fence and pulled that pipe over toyou that you were stealing? Didn't you?"

"Yassah, I knowed it was wrong, " replied Ackerman, sheepishly. "I didn'think 'twuz stealin' like zackly, but I done knowed it was wrong. I doneknowed I oughtn' take it, I guess. "

"Of course you did. Of course you did. That's just it. You knew you werestealing, and still you took it. Has the man to whom this negro soldthe lead pipe been apprehended yet?" the judge inquired sharply of thedistrict attorney. "He should be, for he's more guilty than this negro, a receiver of stolen goods. "

"Yes, sir, " replied the assistant. "His case is before Judge Yawger. "

"Quite right. It should be, " replied Payderson, severely. "This matterof receiving stolen property is one of the worst offenses, in myjudgment. "

He then turned his attention to Ackerman again. "Now, look here, Ackerman, " he exclaimed, irritated at having to bother with such apretty case, "I want to say something to you, and I want you to paystrict attention to me. Straighten up, there! Don't lean on that gate!You are in the presence of the law now. " Ackerman had sprawled himselfcomfortably down on his elbows as he would have if he had been leaningover a back-fence gate talking to some one, but he immediately drewhimself straight, still grinning foolishly and apologetically, when heheard this. "You are not so dull but that you can understand what I amgoing to say to you. The offense you have committed--stealing a pieceof lead pipe--is a crime. Do you hear me? A criminal offense--one that Icould punish you very severely for. I could send you to the penitentiaryfor one year if I chose--the law says I may--one year at hard labor forstealing a piece of lead pipe. Now, if you have any sense you will paystrict attention to what I am going to tell you. I am not going to sendyou to the penitentiary right now. I'm going to wait a little while. Iam going to sentence you to one year in the penitentiary--one year. Do you understand?" Ackerman blanched a little and licked his lipsnervously. "And then I am going to suspend that sentence--hold it overyour head, so that if you are ever caught taking anything else you willbe punished for this offense and the next one also at one and the sametime. Do you understand that? Do you know what I mean? Tell me. Do you?"

"Yessah! I does, sir, " replied the negro. "You'se gwine to let me gonow--tha's it. "

The audience grinned, and his honor made a wry face to prevent his owngrim grin. 

"I'm going to let you go only so long as you don't steal anything else, "he thundered. "The moment you steal anything else, back you come to thiscourt, and then you go to the penitentiary for a year and whatevermore time you deserve. Do you understand that? Now, I want you towalk straight out of this court and behave yourself. Don't ever stealanything. Get something to do! Don't steal, do you hear? Don't touchanything that doesn't belong to you! Don't come back here! If you do, I'll send you to the penitentiary, sure. "

"Yassah! No, sah, I won't, " replied Ackerman, nervously. "I won't takenothin' more that don't belong tuh me. "

He shuffled away, after a moment, urged along by the guiding hand of abailiff, and was put safely outside the court, amid a mixture of smilesand laughter over his simplicity and Payderson's undue severity ofmanner. But the next case was called and soon engrossed the interest ofthe audience. 

It was that of the two housebreakers whom Cowperwood had been and wasstill studying with much curiosity. In all his life before he had neverwitnessed a sentencing scene of any kind. He had never been in policeor criminal courts of any kind--rarely in any of the civil ones. Hewas glad to see the negro go, and gave Payderson credit for having somesense and sympathy--more than he had expected. 

He wondered now whether by any chance Aileen was here. He had objectedto her coming, but she might have done so. She was, as a matter of fact, in the extreme rear, pocketed in a crowd near the door, heavily veiled, but present. She had not been able to resist the desire to know quicklyand surely her beloved's fate--to be near him in his hour of realsuffering, as she thought. She was greatly angered at seeing him broughtin with a line of ordinary criminals and made to wait in this, to her, shameful public manner, but she could not help admiring all the more thedignity and superiority of his presence even here. He was not even pale, as she saw, just the same firm, calm soul she had always known him tobe. If he could only see her now; if he would only look so she couldlift her veil and smile! He didn't, though; he wouldn't. He didn't wantto see her here. But she would tell him all about it when she saw himagain just the same. 

The two burglars were quickly disposed of by the judge, with a sentenceof one year each, and they were led away, uncertain, and apparently notknowing what to think of their crime or their future. 

When it came to Cowperwood's turn to be called, his honor himselfstiffened and straightened up, for this was a different type of man andcould not be handled in the usual manner. He knew exactly what hewas going to say. When one of Mollenhauer's agents, a close friend ofButler's, had suggested that five years for both Cowperwood and Stenerwould be about right, he knew exactly what to do. "Frank AlgernonCowperwood, " called the clerk. 

Cowperwood stepped briskly forward, sorry for himself, ashamed of hisposition in a way, but showing it neither in look nor manner. Paydersoneyed him as he had the others. 

"Name?" asked the bailiff, for the benefit of the court stenographer. 

"Frank Algernon Cowperwood. "

"Residence?"

"1937 Girard Avenue. "

"Occupation?"

"Banker and broker. "

Steger stood close beside him, very dignified, very forceful, ready tomake a final statement for the benefit of the court and the public whenthe time should come. Aileen, from her position in the crowd near thedoor, was for the first time in her life biting her fingers nervouslyand there were great beads of perspiration on her brow. Cowperwood'sfather was tense with excitement and his two brothers looked quicklyaway, doing their best to hide their fear and sorrow. 

"Ever convicted before?"

"Never, " replied Steger for Cowperwood, quietly. 

"Frank Algernon Cowperwood, " called the clerk, in his nasal, singsongway, coming forward, "have you anything to say why judgment should notnow be pronounced upon you? If so, speak. "

Cowperwood started to say no, but Steger put up his hand. 

"If the court pleases, my client, Mr. Cowperwood, the prisoner at thebar, is neither guilty in his own estimation, nor in that of two-fifthsof the Pennsylvania State Supreme Court--the court of last resort inthis State, " he exclaimed, loudly and clearly, so that all might hear. 

One of the interested listeners and spectators at this point was EdwardMalia Butler, who had just stepped in from another courtroom where hehad been talking to a judge. An obsequious court attendant had warnedhim that Cowperwood was about to be sentenced. He had really come herethis morning in order not to miss this sentence, but he cloaked hismotive under the guise of another errand. He did not know that Aileenwas there, nor did he see her. 

"As he himself testified at the time of his trial, " went on Steger, "andas the evidence clearly showed, he was never more than an agent for thegentleman whose offense was subsequently adjudicated by this court;and as an agent he still maintains, and two-fifths of the State SupremeCourt agree with him, that he was strictly within his rights andprivileges in not having deposited the sixty thousand dollars' worth ofcity loan certificates at the time, and in the manner which the people, acting through the district attorney, complained that he should have. Myclient is a man of rare financial ability. By the various letters whichhave been submitted to your honor in his behalf, you will see that hecommands the respect and the sympathy of a large majority of themost forceful and eminent men in his particular world. He is a man ofdistinguished social standing and of notable achievements. Only themost unheralded and the unkindest thrust of fortune has brought himhere before you today--a fire and its consequent panic which involved afinancial property of the most thorough and stable character. In spiteof the verdict of the jury and the decision of three-fifths of the StateSupreme Court, I maintain that my client is not an embezzler, that hehas not committed larceny, that he should never have been convicted, and that he should not now be punished for something of which he is notguilty. 

"I trust that your honor will not misunderstand me or my motives when Ipoint out in this situation that what I have said is true. I do not wishto cast any reflection on the integrity of the court, nor of any court, nor of any of the processes of law. But I do condemn and deplore theuntoward chain of events which has built up a seeming situation, not easily understood by the lay mind, and which has brought mydistinguished client within the purview of the law. I think it is butfair that this should be finally and publicly stated here and now. Iask that your honor be lenient, and that if you cannot conscientiouslydismiss this charge you will at least see that the facts, as I haveindicated them, are given due weight in the measure of the punishmentinflicted. "

Steger stepped back and Judge Payderson nodded, as much as to say he hadheard all the distinguished lawyer had to say, and would give it suchconsideration as it deserved--no more. Then he turned to Cowperwood, and, summoning all his judicial dignity to his aid, he began:

"Frank Algernon Cowperwood, you have been convicted by a jury of yourown selection of the offense of larceny. The motion for a new trial, made in your behalf by your learned counsel, has been carefullyconsidered and overruled, the majority of the court being entirelysatisfied with the propriety of the conviction, both upon the law andthe evidence. Your offense was one of more than usual gravity, the moreso that the large amount of money which you obtained belonged to thecity. And it was aggravated by the fact that you had in addition theretounlawfully used and converted to your own use several hundred thousanddollars of the loan and money of the city. For such an offensethe maximum punishment affixed by the law is singularly merciful. Nevertheless, the facts in connection with your hitherto distinguishedposition, the circumstances under which your failure was brought about, and the appeals of your numerous friends and financial associates, willbe given due consideration by this court. It is not unmindful of anyimportant fact in your career. " Payderson paused as if in doubt, though he knew very well how he was about to proceed. He knew what hissuperiors expected of him. 

"If your case points no other moral, " he went on, after a moment, toyingwith the briefs, "it will at least teach the lesson much needed at thepresent time, that the treasury of the city is not to be invadedand plundered with impunity under the thin disguise of a businesstransaction, and that there is still a power in the law to vindicateitself and to protect the public. 

"The sentence of the court, " he added, solemnly, the while Cowperwoodgazed unmoved, "is, therefore, that you pay a fine of five thousanddollars to the commonwealth for the use of the county, that you pay thecosts of prosecution, and that you undergo imprisonment in theState Penitentiary for the Eastern District by separate or solitaryconfinement at labor for a period of four years and three months, andthat you stand committed until this sentence is complied with. "

Cowperwood's father, on hearing this, bowed his head to hide his tears. Aileen bit her lower lip and clenched her hands to keep down her rageand disappointment and tears. Four years and three months! That wouldmake a terrible gap in his life and hers. Still, she could wait. It wasbetter than eight or ten years, as she had feared it might be. Perhapsnow, once this was really over and he was in prison, the Governor wouldpardon him. 

The judge now moved to pick up the papers in connection with Stener'scase, satisfied that he had given the financiers no chance to say he hadnot given due heed to their plea in Cowperwood's behalf and yet certainthat the politicians would be pleased that he had so nearly givenCowperwood the maximum while appearing to have heeded the pleas formercy. Cowperwood saw through the trick at once, but it did not disturbhim. It struck him as rather weak and contemptible. A bailiff cameforward and started to hurry him away. 

"Allow the prisoner to remain for a moment, " called the judge. 

The name, of George W. Stener had been called by the clerk andCowperwood did not quite understand why he was being detained, but hesoon learned. It was that he might hear the opinion of the court inconnection with his copartner in crime. The latter's record was taken. Roger O'Mara, the Irish political lawyer who had been his counsel allthrough his troubles, stood near him, but had nothing to say beyondasking the judge to consider Stener's previously honorable career. 

"George W. Stener, " said his honor, while the audience, includingCowperwood, listened attentively. "The motion for a new trial as well asan arrest of judgment in your case having been overruled, it remainsfor the court to impose such sentence as the nature of your offenserequires. I do not desire to add to the pain of your position by anyextended remarks of my own; but I cannot let the occasion pass withoutexpressing my emphatic condemnation of your offense. The misapplicationof public money has become the great crime of the age. If not promptlyand firmly checked, it will ultimately destroy our institutions. Whena republic becomes honeycombed with corruption its vitality is gone. Itmust crumble upon the first pressure. 

"In my opinion, the public is much to blame for your offense and othersof a similar character. Heretofore, official fraud has been regardedwith too much indifference. What we need is a higher and purer politicalmorality--a state of public opinion which would make the improper use ofpublic money a thing to be execrated. It was the lack of this which madeyour offense possible. Beyond that I see nothing of extenuation in yourcase. " Judge Payderson paused for emphasis. He was coming to his finestflight, and he wanted it to sink in. 

"The people had confided to you the care of their money, " he went on, solemnly. "It was a high, a sacred trust. You should have guarded thedoor of the treasury even as the cherubim protected the Garden of Eden, and should have turned the flaming sword of impeccable honestyagainst every one who approached it improperly. Your position as therepresentative of a great community warranted that. 

"In view of all the facts in your case the court can do no less thanimpose a major penalty. The seventy-fourth section of the CriminalProcedure Act provides that no convict shall be sentenced by the courtof this commonwealth to either of the penitentiaries thereof, forany term which shall expire between the fifteenth of November and thefifteenth day of February of any year, and this provision requires me toabate three months from the maximum of time which I would affix in yourcase--namely, five years. The sentence of the court is, therefore, thatyou pay a fine of five thousand dollars to the commonwealth for the useof the county"--Payderson knew well enough that Stener could never paythat sum--"and that you undergo imprisonment in the State Penitentiaryfor the Eastern District, by separate and solitary confinement atlabor, for the period of four years and nine months, and that you standcommitted until this sentence is complied with. " He laid down the briefsand rubbed his chin reflectively while both Cowperwood and Stener werehurried out. Butler was the first to leave after the sentence--quitesatisfied. Seeing that all was over so far as she was concerned, Aileenstole quickly out; and after her, in a few moments, Cowperwood's fatherand brothers. They were to await him outside and go with him to thepenitentiary. The remaining members of the family were at home eagerlyawaiting intelligence of the morning's work, and Joseph Cowperwood wasat once despatched to tell them. 

The day had now become cloudy, lowery, and it looked as if there mightbe snow. Eddie Zanders, who had been given all the papers in the case, announced that there was no need to return to the county jail. Inconsequence the five of them--Zanders, Steger, Cowperwood, his father, and Edward--got into a street-car which ran to within a few blocks ofthe prison. Within half an hour they were at the gates of the EasternPenitentiary. 

Chapter LIII

The Eastern District Penitentiary of Pennsylvania, standing at FairmountAvenue and Twenty-first Street in Philadelphia, where Cowperwood wasnow to serve his sentence of four years and three months, was a large, gray-stone structure, solemn and momentous in its mien, not at allunlike the palace of Sforzas at Milan, although not so distinguished. It stretched its gray length for several blocks along four differentstreets, and looked as lonely and forbidding as a prison should. Thewall which inclosed its great area extending over ten acres and gave itso much of its solemn dignity was thirty-five feet high and some sevenfeet thick. The prison proper, which was not visible from the outside, consisted of seven arms or corridors, ranged octopus-like around acentral room or court, and occupying in their sprawling length abouttwo-thirds of the yard inclosed within the walls, so that there was butlittle space for the charm of lawn or sward. The corridors, forty-twofeet wide from outer wall to outer wall, were one hundred and eightyfeet in length, and in four instances two stories high, and extendedin their long reach in every direction. There were no windows in thecorridors, only narrow slits of skylights, three and one-half feet longby perhaps eight inches wide, let in the roof; and the ground-floorcells were accompanied in some instances by a small yard ten bysixteen--the same size as the cells proper--which was surrounded by ahigh brick wall in every instance. The cells and floors and roofs weremade of stone, and the corridors, which were only ten feet wide betweenthe cells, and in the case of the single-story portion only fifteenfeet high, were paved with stone. If you stood in the central room, orrotunda, and looked down the long stretches which departed from youin every direction, you had a sense of narrowness and confinementnot compatible with their length. The iron doors, with their outeraccompaniment of solid wooden ones, the latter used at times to shut theprisoner from all sight and sound, were grim and unpleasing to behold. The halls were light enough, being whitewashed frequently and set withthe narrow skylights, which were closed with frosted glass in winter;but they were, as are all such matter-of-fact arrangements forincarceration, bare--wearisome to look upon. Life enough there was inall conscience, seeing that there were four hundred prisoners here atthat time, and that nearly every cell was occupied; but it was a life ofwhich no one individual was essentially aware as a spectacle. He was ofit; but he was not. Some of the prisoners, after long service, were usedas "trusties" or "runners, " as they were locally called; but not many. There was a bakery, a machine-shop, a carpenter-shop, a store-room, a flour-mill, and a series of gardens, or truck patches; but themanipulation of these did not require the services of a large number. 

The prison proper dated from 1822, and it had grown, wing by wing, untilits present considerable size had been reached. Its population consistedof individuals of all degrees of intelligence and crime, from murderersto minor practitioners of larceny. It had what was known as the"Pennsylvania System" of regulation for its inmates, which was nothingmore nor less than solitary confinement for all concerned--a life ofabsolute silence and separate labor in separate cells. 

Barring his comparatively recent experience in the county jail, whichafter all was far from typical, Cowperwood had never been in a prison inhis life. Once, when a boy, in one of his perambulations through severalof the surrounding towns, he had passed a village "lock-up, " as thetown prisons were then called--a small, square, gray building with longiron-barred windows, and he had seen, at one of these rather depressingapertures on the second floor, a none too prepossessing drunkard or townne'er-do-well who looked down on him with bleary eyes, unkempt hair, anda sodden, waxy, pallid face, and called--for it was summer and the jailwindow was open:

"Hey, sonny, get me a plug of tobacco, will you?"

Cowperwood, who had looked up, shocked and disturbed by the man'sdisheveled appearance, had called back, quite without stopping to think:

"Naw, I can't. "

"Look out you don't get locked up yourself sometime, you little runt, "the man had replied, savagely, only half recovered from his debauch ofthe day before. 

He had not thought of this particular scene in years, but now suddenlyit came back to him. Here he was on his way to be locked up in thisdull, somber prison, and it was snowing, and he was being cut out ofhuman affairs as much as it was possible for him to be cut out. 

No friends were permitted to accompany him beyond the outer gate--noteven Steger for the time being, though he might visit him later inthe day. This was an inviolable rule. Zanders being known to thegate-keeper, and bearing his commitment paper, was admitted at once. Theothers turned solemnly away. They bade a gloomy if affectionate farewellto Cowperwood, who, on his part, attempted to give it all an air ofinconsequence--as, in part and even here, it had for him. 

"Well, good-by for the present, " he said, shaking hands. "I'll be allright and I'll get out soon. Wait and see. Tell Lillian not to worry. "

He stepped inside, and the gate clanked solemnly behind him. Zanders ledthe way through a dark, somber hall, wide and high-ceiled, to a farthergate, where a second gateman, trifling with a large key, unlocked abarred door at his bidding. Once inside the prison yard, Zanders turnedto the left into a small office, presenting his prisoner before a small, chest-high desk, where stood a prison officer in uniform of blue. The latter, the receiving overseer of the prison--a thin, practical, executive-looking person with narrow gray eyes and light hair, took thepaper which the sheriff's deputy handed him and read it. This was hisauthority for receiving Cowperwood. In his turn he handed Zanders aslip, showing that he had so received the prisoner; and then Zandersleft, receiving gratefully the tip which Cowperwood pressed in his hand. 

"Well, good-by, Mr. Cowperwood, " he said, with a peculiar twist of hisdetective-like head. "I'm sorry. I hope you won't find it so bad here. "

He wanted to impress the receiving overseer with his familiarity withthis distinguished prisoner, and Cowperwood, true to his policy ofmake-believe, shook hands with him cordially. 

"I'm much obliged to you for your courtesy, Mr. Zanders, " he said, thenturned to his new master with the air of a man who is determined to makea good impression. He was now in the hands of petty officials, he knew, who could modify or increase his comfort at will. He wanted to impressthis man with his utter willingness to comply and obey--his sense ofrespect for his authority--without in any way demeaning himself. Hewas depressed but efficient, even here in the clutch of that eventualmachine of the law, the State penitentiary, which he had been strugglingso hard to evade. 

The receiving overseer, Roger Kendall, though thin and clerical, wasa rather capable man, as prison officials go--shrewd, not particularlywell educated, not over-intelligent naturally, not over-industrious, but sufficiently energetic to hold his position. He knew something aboutconvicts--considerable--for he had been dealing with them for nearlytwenty-six years. His attitude toward them was cold, cynical, critical. 

He did not permit any of them to come into personal contact withhim, but he saw to it that underlings in his presence carried out therequirements of the law. 

When Cowperwood entered, dressed in his very good clothing--a darkgray-blue twill suit of pure wool, a light, well-made gray overcoat, ablack derby hat of the latest shape, his shoes new and of good leather, his tie of the best silk, heavy and conservatively colored, his hair andmustache showing the attention of an intelligent barber, and his handswell manicured--the receiving overseer saw at once that he was in thepresence of some one of superior intelligence and force, such a man asthe fortune of his trade rarely brought into his net. 

Cowperwood stood in the middle of the room without apparently looking atany one or anything, though he saw all. "Convict number 3633, " Kendallcalled to a clerk, handing him at the same time a yellow slip of paperon which was written Cowperwood's full name and his record number, counting from the beginning of the penitentiary itself. 

The underling, a convict, took it and entered it in a book, reservingthe slip at the same time for the penitentiary "runner" or "trusty, " whowould eventually take Cowperwood to the "manners" gallery. 

"You will have to take off your clothes and take a bath, " said Kendallto Cowperwood, eyeing him curiously. "I don't suppose you need one, butit's the rule. "

"Thank you, " replied Cowperwood, pleased that his personality wascounting for something even here. "Whatever the rules are, I want toobey. "

When he started to take off his coat, however, Kendall put up his handdelayingly and tapped a bell. There now issued from an adjoining rooman assistant, a prison servitor, a weird-looking specimen of the genus"trusty. " He was a small, dark, lopsided individual, one leg beingslightly shorter, and therefore one shoulder lower, than the other. Hewas hollow-chested, squint-eyed, and rather shambling, but spry enoughwithal. He was dressed in a thin, poorly made, baggy suit of stripedjeans, the prison stripes of the place, showing a soft roll-collar shirtunderneath, and wearing a large, wide-striped cap, peculiarly offensivein its size and shape to Cowperwood. He could not help thinking howuncanny the man's squint eyes looked under its straight outstandingvisor. The trusty had a silly, sycophantic manner of raising one handin salute. He was a professional "second-story man, " "up" for ten years, but by dint of good behavior he had attained to the honor of workingabout this office without the degrading hood customary for prisoners towear over the cap. For this he was properly grateful. He now consideredhis superior with nervous dog-like eyes, and looked at Cowperwood with acertain cunning appreciation of his lot and a show of initial mistrust. 

One prisoner is as good as another to the average convict; as a matterof fact, it is their only consolation in their degradation that all whocome here are no better than they. The world may have misused them; butthey misuse their confreres in their thoughts. The "holier than thou"attitude, intentional or otherwise, is quite the last and most deadlyoffense within prison walls. This particular "trusty" could no moreunderstand Cowperwood than could a fly the motions of a fly-wheel; butwith the cocky superiority of the underling of the world he did nothesitate to think that he could. A crook was a crook to him--Cowperwoodno less than the shabbiest pickpocket. His one feeling was that he wouldlike to demean him, to pull him down to his own level. 

"You will have to take everything you have out of your pockets, " Kendallnow informed Cowperwood. Ordinarily he would have said, "Search theprisoner. "

Cowperwood stepped forward and laid out a purse with twenty-five dollarsin it, a pen-knife, a lead-pencil, a small note-book, and a littleivory elephant which Aileen had given him once, "for luck, " and whichhe treasured solely because she gave it to him. Kendall looked atthe latter curiously. "Now you can go on, " he said to the "trusty, "referring to the undressing and bathing process which was to follow. 

"This way, " said the latter, addressing Cowperwood, and preceding himinto an adjoining room, where three closets held three old-fashioned, iron-bodied, wooden-top bath-tubs, with their attendant shelves forrough crash towels, yellow soap, and the like, and hooks for clothes. 

"Get in there, " said the trusty, whose name was Thomas Kuby, pointing toone of the tubs. 

Cowperwood realized that this was the beginning of petty officialsupervision; but he deemed it wise to appear friendly even here. 

"I see, " he said. "I will. "

"That's right, " replied the attendant, somewhat placated. "What did youbring?"

Cowperwood looked at him quizzically. He did not understand. The prisonattendant realized that this man did not know the lingo of the place. "What did you bring?" he repeated. "How many years did you get?"

"Oh!" exclaimed Cowperwood, comprehendingly. "I understand. Four andthree months. "

He decided to humor the man. It would probably be better so. 

"What for?" inquired Kuby, familiarly. 

Cowperwood's blood chilled slightly. "Larceny, " he said. 

"Yuh got off easy, " commented Kuby. "I'm up for ten. A rube judge didthat to me. "

Kuby had never heard of Cowperwood's crime. He would not have understoodits subtleties if he had. Cowperwood did not want to talk to thisman; he did not know how. He wished he would go away; but that was notlikely. He wanted to be put in his cell and let alone. 

"That's too bad, " he answered; and the convict realized clearly thatthis man was really not one of them, or he would not have said anythinglike that. Kuby went to the two hydrants opening into the bath-tub andturned them on. Cowperwood had been undressing the while, and now stoodnaked, but not ashamed, in front of this eighth-rate intelligence. 

"Don't forget to wash your head, too, " said Kuby, and went away. 

Cowperwood stood there while the water ran, meditating on his fate. Itwas strange how life had dealt with him of late--so severely. Unlikemost men in his position, he was not suffering from a consciousnessof evil. He did not think he was evil. As he saw it, he was merelyunfortunate. To think that he should be actually in this great, silentpenitentiary, a convict, waiting here beside this cheap iron bathtub, not very sweet or hygienic to contemplate, with this crackbrainedcriminal to watch over him!

He stepped into the tub and washed himself briskly with the bitingyellow soap, drying himself on one of the rough, only partially bleachedtowels. He looked for his underwear, but there was none. At this pointthe attendant looked in again. "Out here, " he said, inconsiderately. 

Cowperwood followed, naked. He was led through the receiving overseer'soffice into a room, where were scales, implements of measurement, arecord-book, etc. The attendant who stood guard at the door now cameover, and the clerk who sat in a corner automatically took down arecord-blank. Kendall surveyed Cowperwood's decidedly graceful figure, already inclining to a slight thickening around the waist, and approvedof it as superior to that of most who came here. His skin, as heparticularly noted, was especially white. 

"Step on the scale, " said the attendant, brusquely. 

Cowperwood did so, The former adjusted the weights and scanned therecord carefully. 

"Weight, one hundred and seventy-five, " he called. "Now step over here. "

He indicated a spot in the side wall where was fastened in a thinslat--which ran from the floor to about seven and one half feet above, perpendicularly--a small movable wooden indicator, which, when a man wasstanding under it, could be pressed down on his head. At the side ofthe slat were the total inches of height, laid off in halves, quarters, eighths, and so on, and to the right a length measurement for the arm. Cowperwood understood what was wanted and stepped under the indicator, standing quite straight. 

"Feet level, back to the wall, " urged the attendant. "So. Height, fivefeet nine and ten-sixteenths, " he called. The clerk in the corner notedit. He now produced a tape-measure and began measuring Cowperwood'sarms, legs, chest, waist, hips, etc. He called out the color of hiseyes, his hair, his mustache, and, looking into his mouth, exclaimed, "Teeth, all sound. "

After Cowperwood had once more given his address, age, profession, whether he knew any trade, etc. --which he did not--he was allowedto return to the bathroom, and put on the clothing which the prisonprovided for him--first the rough, prickly underwear, then the cheapsoft roll-collar, white-cotton shirt, then the thick bluish-gray cottonsocks of a quality such as he had never worn in his life, and over thesea pair of indescribable rough-leather clogs, which felt to his feet asthough they were made of wood or iron--oily and heavy. He then drew onthe shapeless, baggy trousers with their telltale stripes, and over hisarms and chest the loose-cut shapeless coat and waistcoat. He felt andknew of course that he looked very strange, wretched. And as he steppedout into the overseer's room again he experienced a peculiar sense ofdepression, a gone feeling which before this had not assailed him andwhich now he did his best to conceal. This, then, was what society didto the criminal, he thought to himself. It took him and tore away fromhis body and his life the habiliments of his proper state and left himthese. He felt sad and grim, and, try as he would--he could not helpshowing it for a moment. It was always his business and his intentionto conceal his real feelings, but now it was not quite possible. He feltdegraded, impossible, in these clothes, and he knew that he lookedit. Nevertheless, he did his best to pull himself together and lookunconcerned, willing, obedient, considerate of those above him. Afterall, he said to himself, it was all a play of sorts, a dream even, ifone chose to view it so, a miasma even, from which, in the course oftime and with a little luck one might emerge safely enough. He hoped so. It could not last. He was only acting a strange, unfamiliar part on thestage, this stage of life that he knew so well. 

Kendall did not waste any time looking at him, however. He merely saidto his assistant, "See if you can find a cap for him, " and the latter, going to a closet containing numbered shelves, took down a cap--ahigh-crowned, straight-visored, shabby, striped affair which Cowperwoodwas asked to try on. It fitted well enough, slipping down close over hisears, and he thought that now his indignities must be about complete. What could be added? There could be no more of these disconcertingaccoutrements. But he was mistaken. "Now, Kuby, you take him to Mr. Chapin, " said Kendall. 

Kuby understood. He went back into the wash-room and produced whatCowperwood had heard of but never before seen--a blue-and-white-stripedcotton bag about half the length of an ordinary pillow-case and halfagain as wide, which Kuby now unfolded and shook out as he came towardhim. It was a custom. The use of this hood, dating from the earliestdays of the prison, was intended to prevent a sense of location anddirection and thereby obviate any attempt to escape. Thereafter duringall his stay he was not supposed to walk with or talk to or see anotherprisoner--not even to converse with his superiors, unless addressed. Itwas a grim theory, and yet one definitely enforced here, although as hewas to learn later even this could be modified here. 

"You'll have to put this on, " Kuby said, and opened it in such a waythat it could be put over Cowperwood's head. 

Cowperwood understood. He had heard of it in some way, in times past. Hewas a little shocked--looked at it first with a touch of real surprise, but a moment after lifted his hands and helped pull it down. 

"Never mind, " cautioned the guard, "put your hands down. I'll get itover. "

Cowperwood dropped his arms. When it was fully on, it came to about hischest, giving him little means of seeing anything. He felt very strange, very humiliated, very downcast. This simple thing of a blue-and-whitestriped bag over his head almost cost him his sense of self-possession. Why could not they have spared him this last indignity, he thought?

"This way, " said his attendant, and he was led out to where he could notsay. 

"If you hold it out in front you can see to walk, " said his guide; andCowperwood pulled it out, thus being able to discern his feet and aportion of the floor below. He was thus conducted--seeing nothing in histransit--down a short walk, then through a long corridor, then through aroom of uniformed guards, and finally up a narrow flight of iron steps, leading to the overseer's office on the second floor of one of thetwo-tier blocks. There, he heard the voice of Kuby saying: "Mr. Chapin, here's another prisoner for you from Mr. Kendall. "

"I'll be there in a minute, " came a peculiarly pleasant voice from thedistance. Presently a big, heavy hand closed about his arm, and he wasconducted still further. 

"You hain't got far to go now, " the voice said, "and then I'll takethat bag off, " and Cowperwood felt for some reason a sense of sympathy, perhaps--as though he would choke. The further steps were not many. 

A cell door was reached and unlocked by the inserting of a great ironkey. It was swung open, and the same big hand guided him through. Amoment later the bag was pulled easily from his head, and he saw that hewas in a narrow, whitewashed cell, rather dim, windowless, but lightedfrom the top by a small skylight of frosted glass three and one halffeet long by four inches wide. For a night light there was a tin-bodiedlamp swinging from a hook near the middle of one of the side walls. Arough iron cot, furnished with a straw mattress and two pairs of darkblue, probably unwashed blankets, stood in one corner. There was ahydrant and small sink in another. A small shelf occupied the wallopposite the bed. A plain wooden chair with a homely round back stood atthe foot of the bed, and a fairly serviceable broom was standing in onecorner. There was an iron stool or pot for excreta, giving, as he couldsee, into a large drain-pipe which ran along the inside wall, and whichwas obviously flushed by buckets of water being poured into it. Ratsand other vermin infested this, and it gave off an unpleasant odor whichfilled the cell. The floor was of stone. Cowperwood's clear-seeingeyes took it all in at a glance. He noted the hard cell door, which wasbarred and cross-barred with great round rods of steel, and fastenedwith a thick, highly polished lock. He saw also that beyond this was aheavy wooden door, which could shut him in even more completely than theiron one. There was no chance for any clear, purifying sunlight here. Cleanliness depended entirely on whitewash, soap and water and sweeping, which in turn depended on the prisoners themselves. 

He also took in Chapin, the homely, good-natured, cell overseer whom henow saw for the first time--a large, heavy, lumbering man, rather dustyand misshapen-looking, whose uniform did not fit him well, and whosemanner of standing made him look as though he would much prefer to sitdown. He was obviously bulky, but not strong, and his kindly face wascovered with a short growth of grayish-brown whiskers. His hair was cutbadly and stuck out in odd strings or wisps from underneath his big cap. Nevertheless, Cowperwood was not at all unfavorably impressed--quite thecontrary--and he felt at once that this man might be more considerate ofhim than the others had been. He hoped so, anyhow. He did not know thathe was in the presence of the overseer of the "manners squad, " who wouldhave him in charge for two weeks only, instructing him in the rules ofthe prison, and that he was only one of twenty-six, all told, who werein Chapin's care. 

That worthy, by way of easy introduction, now went over to the bedand seated himself on it. He pointed to the hard wooden chair, whichCowperwood drew out and sat on. 

"Well, now you're here, hain't yuh?" he asked, and answered himselfquite genially, for he was an unlettered man, generously disposed, oflong experience with criminals, and inclined to deal kindly with kindlytemperament and a form of religious belief--Quakerism--had inclined himto be merciful, and yet his official duties, as Cowperwood later foundout, seemed to have led him to the conclusion that most criminalswere innately bad. Like Kendall, he regarded them as weaklings andne'er-do-wells with evil streaks in them, and in the main he was notmistaken. Yet he could not help being what he was, a fatherly, kindlyold man, having faith in those shibboleths of the weak and inexperiencedmentally--human justice and human decency. 

"Yes, I'm here, Mr. Chapin, " Cowperwood replied, simply, remembering hisname from the attendant, and flattering the keeper by the use of it. 

To old Chapin the situation was more or less puzzling. This was thefamous Frank A. Cowperwood whom he had read about, the noted banker andtreasury-looter. He and his co-partner in crime, Stener, were destinedto serve, as he had read, comparatively long terms here. Five hundredthousand dollars was a large sum of money in those days, much morethan five million would have been forty years later. He was awed by thethought of what had become of it--how Cowperwood managed to do allthe things the papers had said he had done. He had a little formula ofquestions which he usually went through with each new prisoner--askinghim if he was sorry now for the crime he had committed, if he meant todo better with a new chance, if his father and mother were alive, etc. ; and by the manner in which they answered these questions--simply, regretfully, defiantly, or otherwise--he judged whether they were beingadequately punished or not. Yet he could not talk to Cowperwood ashe now saw or as he would to the average second-story burglar, store-looter, pickpocket, and plain cheap thief and swindler. And yet hescarcely knew how else to talk. 

"Well, now, " he went on, "I don't suppose you ever thought you'd get toa place like this, did you, Mr. Cowperwood?"

"I never did, " replied Frank, simply. "I wouldn't have believed it a fewmonths ago, Mr. Chapin. I don't think I deserve to be here now, thoughof course there is no use of my telling you that. "

He saw that old Chapin wanted to moralize a little, and he was only tooglad to fall in with his mood. He would soon be alone with no one totalk to perhaps, and if a sympathetic understanding could be reachedwith this man now, so much the better. Any port in a storm; any straw toa drowning man. 

"Well, no doubt all of us makes mistakes, " continued Mr. Chapin, superiorly, with an amusing faith in his own value as a moral guide andreformer. "We can't just always tell how the plans we think so fine arecoming out, can we? You're here now, an' I suppose you're sorry certainthings didn't come out just as you thought; but if you had a chance Idon't suppose you'd try to do just as you did before, now would yuh?"

"No, Mr. Chapin, I wouldn't, exactly, " said Cowperwood, truly enough, "though I believed I was right in everything I did. I don't think legaljustice has really been done me. "

"Well, that's the way, " continued Chapin, meditatively, scratching hisgrizzled head and looking genially about. "Sometimes, as I allers saysto some of these here young fellers that comes in here, we don't know asmuch as we thinks we does. We forget that others are just as smart as weare, and that there are allers people that are watchin' us all the time. These here courts and jails and detectives--they're here all the time, and they get us. I gad"--Chapin's moral version of "by God"--"they do, if we don't behave. "

"Yes, " Cowperwood replied, "that's true enough, Mr. Chapin. "

"Well, " continued the old man after a time, after he had made a few moresolemn, owl-like, and yet well-intentioned remarks, "now here's yourbed, and there's your chair, and there's your wash-stand, and there'syour water-closet. Now keep 'em all clean and use 'em right. " (You wouldhave thought he was making Cowperwood a present of a fortune. ) "You'rethe one's got to make up your bed every mornin' and keep your floorswept and your toilet flushed and your cell clean. There hain't anybodyhere'll do that for yuh. You want to do all them things the first thingin the mornin' when you get up, and afterward you'll get sumpin' to eat, about six-thirty. You're supposed to get up at five-thirty. "

"Yes, Mr. Chapin, " Cowperwood said, politely. "You can depend on me todo all those things promptly. "

"There hain't so much more, " added Chapin. "You're supposed to washyourself all over once a week an' I'll give you a clean towel for that. Next you gotta wash this floor up every Friday mornin'. " Cowperwoodwinced at that. "You kin have hot water for that if you want it. I'llhave one of the runners bring it to you. An' as for your friends andrelations"--he got up and shook himself like a big Newfoundland dog. "You gotta wife, hain't you?"

"Yes, " replied Cowperwood. 

"Well, the rules here are that your wife or your friends kin come to seeyou once in three months, and your lawyer--you gotta lawyer hain't yuh?"

"Yes, sir, " replied Cowperwood, amused. 

"Well, he kin come every week or so if he likes--every day, Iguess--there hain't no rules about lawyers. But you kin only write oneletter once in three months yourself, an' if you want anything liketobaccer or the like o' that, from the store-room, you gotta sign anorder for it, if you got any money with the warden, an' then I can gitit for you. "

The old man was really above taking small tips in the shape of money. He was a hold-over from a much more severe and honest regime, butsubsequent presents or constant flattery were not amiss in making himkindly and generous. Cowperwood read him accurately. 

"Very well, Mr. Chapin; I understand, " he said, getting up as the oldman did. 

"Then when you have been here two weeks, " added Chapin, ratherruminatively (he had forgot to state this to Cowperwood before), "thewarden 'll come and git yuh and give yuh yer regular cell summersdown-stairs. Yuh kin make up yer mind by that time what y'u'd like tuhdo, what y'u'd like to work at. If you behave yourself proper, more'nlike they'll give yuh a cell with a yard. Yuh never can tell. "

He went out, locking the door with a solemn click; and Cowperwood stoodthere, a little more depressed than he had been, because of this latestintelligence. Only two weeks, and then he would be transferred from thiskindly old man's care to another's, whom he did not know and with whomhe might not fare so well. 

"If ever you want me for anything--if ye're sick or sumpin' like that, "Chapin now returned to say, after he had walked a few paces away, "wehave a signal here of our own. Just hang your towel out through thesehere bars. I'll see it, and I'll stop and find out what yuh want, whenI'm passin'. "

Cowperwood, whose spirits had sunk, revived for the moment. 

"Yes, sir, " he replied; "thank you, Mr. Chapin. "

The old man walked away, and Cowperwood heard his steps dying downthe cement-paved hall. He stood and listened, his ears being greetedoccasionally by a distant cough, a faint scraping of some one's feet, the hum or whir of a machine, or the iron scratch of a key in a lock. None of the noises was loud. Rather they were all faint and far away. He went over and looked at the bed, which was not very clean and withoutlinen, and anything but wide or soft, and felt it curiously. So herewas where he was to sleep from now on--he who so craved and appreciatedluxury and refinement. If Aileen or some of his rich friends should seehim here. Worse, he was sickened by the thought of possible vermin. How could he tell? How would he do? The one chair was abominable. Theskylight was weak. He tried to think of himself as becoming accustomedto the situation, but he re-discovered the offal pot in one corner, andthat discouraged him. It was possible that rats might come up here--itlooked that way. No pictures, no books, no scene, no person, no space towalk--just the four bare walls and silence, which he would be shut intoat night by the thick door. What a horrible fate!

He sat down and contemplated his situation. So here he was at last inthe Eastern Penitentiary, and doomed, according to the judgment of thepoliticians (Butler among others), to remain here four long years andlonger. Stener, it suddenly occurred to him, was probably being putthrough the same process he had just gone through. Poor old Stener!What a fool he had made of himself. But because of his foolishness hedeserved all he was now getting. But the difference between himself andStener was that they would let Stener out. It was possible that alreadythey were easing his punishment in some way that he, Cowperwood, did notknow. He put his hand to his chin, thinking--his business, his house, his friends, his family, Aileen. He felt for his watch, but rememberedthat they had taken that. There was no way of telling the time. Neitherhad he any notebook, pen, or pencil with which to amuse or interesthimself. Besides he had had nothing to eat since morning. Still, thatmattered little. What did matter was that he was shut up here away fromthe world, quite alone, quite lonely, without knowing what time itwas, and that he could not attend to any of the things he ought tobe attending to--his business affairs, his future. True, Steger wouldprobably come to see him after a while. That would help a little. Buteven so--think of his position, his prospects up to the day of the fireand his state now. He sat looking at his shoes; his suit. God! He gotup and walked to and fro, to and fro, but his own steps and movementssounded so loud. He walked to the cell door and looked out through thethick bars, but there was nothing to see--nothing save a portion of twocell doors opposite, something like his own. He came back and sat in hissingle chair, meditating, but, getting weary of that finally, stretchedhimself on the dirty prison bed to try it. It was not uncomfortableentirely. He got up after a while, however, and sat, then walked, then sat. What a narrow place to walk, he thought. This washorrible--something like a living tomb. And to think he should be herenow, day after day and day after day, until--until what? Untilthe Governor pardoned him or his time was up, or his fortune eatenaway--or--

So he cogitated while the hours slipped by. It was nearly five o'clockbefore Steger was able to return, and then only for a little while. He had been arranging for Cowperwood's appearance on the followingThursday, Friday, and Monday in his several court proceedings. When hewas gone, however, and the night fell and Cowperwood had to trim hislittle, shabby oil-lamp and to drink the strong tea and eat the rough, poor bread made of bran and white flour, which was shoved to himthrough the small aperture in the door by the trencher trusty, who wasaccompanied by the overseer to see that it was done properly, he reallyfelt very badly. And after that the center wooden door of his cell waspresently closed and locked by a trusty who slammed it rudely and saidno word. Nine o'clock would be sounded somewhere by a great bell, heunderstood, when his smoky oil-lamp would have to be put out promptlyand he would have to undress and go to bed. There were punishments, no doubt, for infractions of these rules--reduced rations, thestrait-jacket, perhaps stripes--he scarcely knew what. He feltdisconsolate, grim, weary. He had put up such a long, unsatisfactoryfight. After washing his heavy stone cup and tin plate at the hydrant, he took off the sickening uniform and shoes and even the drawers ofthe scratching underwear, and stretched himself wearily on the bed. Theplace was not any too warm, and he tried to make himself comfortablebetween the blankets--but it was of little use. His soul was cold. 

"This will never do, " he said to himself. "This will never do. I'm notsure whether I can stand much of this or not. " Still he turned his faceto the wall, and after several hours sleep eventually came. 

Chapter LIV

Those who by any pleasing courtesy of fortune, accident of birth, inheritance, or the wisdom of parents or friends, have succeeded inavoiding making that anathema of the prosperous and comfortable, "amess of their lives, " will scarcely understand the mood of Cowperwood, sitting rather gloomily in his cell these first days, wondering what, inspite of his great ingenuity, was to become of him. The strongest havetheir hours of depression. There are times when life to those endowedwith the greatest intelligence--perhaps mostly to those--takes on asomber hue. They see so many phases of its dreary subtleties. It isonly when the soul of man has been built up into some strangeself-confidence, some curious faith in its own powers, based, no doubt, on the actual presence of these same powers subtly involved in the body, that it fronts life unflinchingly. It would be too much to say thatCowperwood's mind was of the first order. It was subtle enough in allconscience--and involved, as is common with the executively great, witha strong sense of personal advancement. It was a powerful mind, turning, like a vast searchlight, a glittering ray into many a dark corner; butit was not sufficiently disinterested to search the ultimate dark. He realized, in a way, what the great astronomers, sociologists, philosophers, chemists, physicists, and physiologists were meditating;but he could not be sure in his own mind that, whatever it was, it wasimportant for him. No doubt life held many strange secrets. Perhaps itwas essential that somebody should investigate them. However that mightbe, the call of his own soul was in another direction. His business wasto make money--to organize something which would make him much money, or, better yet, save the organization he had begun. 

But this, as he now looked upon it, was almost impossible. It had beentoo disarranged and complicated by unfortunate circumstances. He might, as Steger pointed out to him, string out these bankruptcy proceedingsfor years, tiring out one creditor and another, but in the meantime theproperties involved were being seriously damaged. Interest chargeson his unsatisfied loans were making heavy inroads; court costs weremounting up; and, to cap it all, he had discovered with Steger thatthere were a number of creditors--those who had sold out to Butler, andincidentally to Mollenhauer--who would never accept anything except thefull value of their claims. His one hope now was to save what he couldby compromise a little later, and to build up some sort of profitablebusiness through Stephen Wingate. The latter was coming in a day or two, as soon as Steger had made some working arrangement for him withWarden Michael Desmas who came the second day to have a look at the newprisoner. 

Desmas was a large man physically--Irish by birth, a politician bytraining--who had been one thing and another in Philadelphia from apoliceman in his early days and a corporal in the Civil War to award captain under Mollenhauer. He was a canny man, tall, raw-boned, singularly muscular-looking, who for all his fifty-seven years lookedas though he could give a splendid account of himself in a physicalcontest. His hands were large and bony, his face more square thaneither round or long, and his forehead high. He had a vigorous growthof short-clipped, iron-gray hair, and a bristly iron-gray mustache, very short, keen, intelligent blue-gray eyes; a florid complexion;and even-edged, savage-looking teeth, which showed the least bit ina slightly wolfish way when he smiled. However, he was not as cruel aperson as he looked to be; temperamental, to a certain extent hard, andon occasions savage, but with kindly hours also. His greatest weaknesswas that he was not quite mentally able to recognize that there weremental and social differences between prisoners, and that now and thenone was apt to appear here who, with or without political influences, was eminently worthy of special consideration. What he could recognizewas the differences pointed out to him by the politicians in specialcases, such as that of Stener--not Cowperwood. However, seeing thatthe prison was a public institution apt to be visited at any time bylawyers, detectives, doctors, preachers, propagandists, and the publicgenerally, and that certain rules and regulations had to be enforced (iffor no other reason than to keep a moral and administrative control overhis own help), it was necessary to maintain--and that even in the faceof the politician--a certain amount of discipline, system, and order, and it was not possible to be too liberal with any one. There were, however, exceptional cases--men of wealth and refinement, victimsof those occasional uprisings which so shocked the political leadersgenerally--who had to be looked after in a friendly way. 

Desmas was quite aware, of course, of the history of Cowperwood andStener. The politicians had already given him warning that Stener, because of his past services to the community, was to be treated withspecial consideration. Not so much was said about Cowperwood, althoughthey did admit that his lot was rather hard. Perhaps he might do alittle something for him but at his own risk. 

"Butler is down on him, " Strobik said to Desmas, on one occasion. "It'sthat girl of his that's at the bottom of it all. If you listened toButler you'd feed him on bread and water, but he isn't a bad fellow. As a matter of fact, if George had had any sense Cowperwood wouldn't bewhere he is to-day. But the big fellows wouldn't let Stener alone. Theywouldn't let him give Cowperwood any money. "

Although Strobik had been one of those who, under pressure fromMollenhauer, had advised Stener not to let Cowperwood have any moremoney, yet here he was pointing out the folly of the victim's course. The thought of the inconsistency involved did not trouble him in theleast. 

Desmas decided, therefore, that if Cowperwood were persona non grata tothe "Big Three, " it might be necessary to be indifferent to him, or atleast slow in extending him any special favors. For Stener a good chair, clean linen, special cutlery and dishes, the daily papers, privilegesin the matter of mail, the visits of friends, and the like. ForCowperwood--well, he would have to look at Cowperwood and see what hethought. At the same time, Steger's intercessions were not without theireffect on Desmas. So the morning after Cowperwood's entrance the wardenreceived a letter from Terrence Relihan, the Harrisburg potentate, indicating that any kindness shown to Mr. Cowperwood would be dulyappreciated by him. Upon the receipt of this letter Desmas went up andlooked through Cowperwood's iron door. On the way he had a brief talkwith Chapin, who told him what a nice man he thought Cowperwood was. 

Desmas had never seen Cowperwood before, but in spite of the shabbyuniform, the clog shoes, the cheap shirt, and the wretched cell, he wasimpressed. Instead of the weak, anaemic body and the shifty eyes of theaverage prisoner, he saw a man whose face and form blazed energy andpower, and whose vigorous erectness no wretched clothes or conditionscould demean. He lifted his head when Desmas appeared, glad that anyform should have appeared at his door, and looked at him with large, clear, examining eyes--those eyes that in the past had inspired somuch confidence and surety in all those who had known him. Desmas wasstirred. Compared with Stener, whom he knew in the past and whom he hadmet on his entry, this man was a force. Say what you will, one vigorousman inherently respects another. And Desmas was vigorous physically. Heeyed Cowperwood and Cowperwood eyed him. Instinctively Desmas liked him. He was like one tiger looking at another. 

Instinctively Cowperwood knew that he was the warden. "This is Mr. Desmas, isn't it?" he asked, courteously and pleasantly. 

"Yes, sir, I'm the man, " replied Desmas interestedly. "These rooms arenot as comfortable as they might be, are they?" The warden's even teethshowed in a friendly, yet wolfish, way. 

"They certainly are not, Mr. Desmas, " replied Cowperwood, standingvery erect and soldier-like. "I didn't imagine I was coming to a hotel, however. " He smiled. 

"There isn't anything special I can do for you, is there, Mr. Cowperwood?" began Desmas curiously, for he was moved by a thought thatat some time or other a man such as this might be of service to him. "I've been talking to your lawyer. " Cowperwood was intensely gratifiedby the Mr. So that was the way the wind was blowing. Well, then, withinreason, things might not prove so bad here. He would see. He would soundthis man out. 

"I don't want to be asking anything, Warden, which you cannot reasonablygive, " he now returned politely. "But there are a few things, of course, that I would change if I could. I wish I might have sheets for my bed, and I could afford better underwear if you would let me wear it. Thisthat I have on annoys me a great deal. "

"They're not the best wool, that's true enough, " replied Desmas, solemnly. "They're made for the State out here in Pennsylvaniasomewhere. I suppose there's no objection to your wearing your ownunderwear if you want to. I'll see about that. And the sheets, too. Wemight let you use them if you have them. We'll have to go a little slowabout this. There are a lot of people that take a special interest inshowing the warden how to tend to his business. "

"I can readily understand that, Warden, " went on Cowperwood briskly, "and I'm certainly very much obliged to you. You may be sure thatanything you do for me here will be appreciated, and not misused, andthat I have friends on the outside who can reciprocate for me in thecourse of time. " He talked slowly and emphatically, looking Desmasdirectly in the eye all of the time. Desmas was very much impressed. 

"That's all right, " he said, now that he had gone so far as to befriendly. "I can't promise much. Prison rules are prison rules. Butthere are some things that can be done, because it's the rule to do themfor other men when they behave themselves. You can have a better chairthan that, if you want it, and something to read too. If you're inbusiness yet, I wouldn't want to do anything to stop that. We can't havepeople running in and out of here every fifteen minutes, and you can'tturn a cell into a business office--that's not possible. It would breakup the order of the place. Still, there's no reason why you shouldn'tsee some of your friends now and then. As for your mail--well, that willhave to be opened in the ordinary way for the time being, anyhow. I'llhave to see about that. I can't promise too much. You'll have to waituntil you come out of this block and down-stairs. Some of the cellshave a yard there; if there are any empty--" The warden cocked his eyewisely, and Cowperwood saw that his tot was not to be as bad as hehad anticipated--though bad enough. The warden spoke to him about thedifferent trades he might follow, and asked him to think about the onehe would prefer. "You want to have something to keep your hands busy, whatever else you want. You'll find you'll need that. Everybody herewants to work after a time. I notice that. "

Cowperwood understood and thanked Desmas profusely. The horror ofidleness in silence and in a cell scarcely large enough to turn aroundin comfortably had already begun to creep over him, and the thought ofbeing able to see Wingate and Steger frequently, and to have his mailreach him, after a time, untampered with, was a great relief. He wasto have his own underwear, silk and wool--thank God!--and perhapsthey would let him take off these shoes after a while. With thesemodifications and a trade, and perhaps the little yard which Desmas hadreferred to, his life would be, if not ideal, at least tolerable. Theprison was still a prison, but it looked as though it might not be somuch of a terror to him as obviously it must be to many. 

During the two weeks in which Cowperwood was in the "manners squad, "in care of Chapin, he learned nearly as much as he ever learned of thegeneral nature of prison life; for this was not an ordinary penitentiaryin the sense that the prison yard, the prison squad, the prisonlock-step, the prison dining-room, and prison associated labor make theordinary penitentiary. There was, for him and for most of those confinedthere, no general prison life whatsoever. The large majority weresupposed to work silently in their cells at the particular tasksassigned them, and not to know anything of the remainder of the lifewhich went on around them, the rule of this prison being solitaryconfinement, and few being permitted to work at the limited number ofoutside menial tasks provided. Indeed, as he sensed and as old Chapinsoon informed him, not more than seventy-five of the four hundredprisoners confined here were so employed, and not all of theseregularly--cooking, gardening in season, milling, and general cleaningbeing the only avenues of escape from solitude. Even those who so workedwere strictly forbidden to talk, and although they did not have to wearthe objectionable hood when actually employed, they were supposedto wear it in going to and from their work. Cowperwood saw themoccasionally tramping by his cell door, and it struck him as strange, uncanny, grim. He wished sincerely at times since old Chapin was sogenial and talkative that he were to be under him permanently; but itwas not to be. 

His two weeks soon passed--drearily enough in all conscience butthey passed, interlaced with his few commonplace tasks of bed-making, floor-sweeping, dressing, eating, undressing, rising at five-thirty, andretiring at nine, washing his several dishes after each meal, etc. Hethought he would never get used to the food. Breakfast, as has beensaid, was at six-thirty, and consisted of coarse black bread made ofbran and some white flour, and served with black coffee. Dinner was ateleven-thirty, and consisted of bean or vegetable soup, with some coarsemeat in it, and the same bread. Supper was at six, of tea and bread, very strong tea and the same bread--no butter, no milk, no sugar. Cowperwood did not smoke, so the small allowance of tobacco which waspermitted was without value to him. Steger called in every day for twoor three weeks, and after the second day, Stephen Wingate, as his newbusiness associate, was permitted to see him also--once every day, if hewished, Desmas stated, though the latter felt he was stretching a pointin permitting this so soon. Both of these visits rarely occupied morethan an hour, or an hour and a half, and after that the day was long. Hewas taken out on several days on a court order, between nine and five, to testify in the bankruptcy proceedings against him, which caused thetime in the beginning to pass quickly. 

It was curious, once he was in prison, safely shut from the world fora period of years apparently, how quickly all thought of assisting himdeparted from the minds of those who had been most friendly. He wasdone, so most of them thought. The only thing they could do now wouldbe to use their influence to get him out some time; how soon, they couldnot guess. Beyond that there was nothing. He would really never be ofany great importance to any one any more, or so they thought. It wasvery sad, very tragic, but he was gone--his place knew him not. 

"A bright young man, that, " observed President Davison of the GirardNational, on reading of Cowperwood's sentence and incarceration. "Toobad! Too bad! He made a great mistake. "

Only his parents, Aileen, and his wife--the latter with mingled feelingsof resentment and sorrow--really missed him. Aileen, because of hergreat passion for him, was suffering most of all. Four years and threemonths; she thought. If he did not get out before then she would benearing twenty-nine and he would be nearing forty. Would he want herthen? Would she be so attractive? And would nearly five years change hispoint of view? He would have to wear a convict suit all that time, andbe known as a convict forever after. It was hard to think about, butonly made her more than ever determined to cling to him, whateverhappened, and to help him all she could. 

Indeed the day after his incarceration she drove out and looked at thegrim, gray walls of the penitentiary. Knowing nothing absolutely of thevast and complicated processes of law and penal servitude, it seemedespecially terrible to her. What might not they be doing to her Frank?Was he suffering much? Was he thinking of her as she was of him? Oh, thepity of it all! The pity! The pity of herself--her great love for him!She drove home, determined to see him; but as he had originally toldher that visiting days were only once in three months, and that he wouldhave to write her when the next one was, or when she could come, or whenhe could see her on the outside, she scarcely knew what to do. Secrecywas the thing. 

The next day, however, she wrote him just the same, describing the driveshe had taken on the stormy afternoon before--the terror of thethought that he was behind those grim gray walls--and declaringher determination to see him soon. And this letter, under the newarrangement, he received at once. He wrote her in reply, giving theletter to Wingate to mail. It ran:

My sweet girl:--I fancy you are a little downhearted to think I cannotbe with you any more soon, but you mustn't be. I suppose you readall about the sentence in the paper. I came out here the samemorning--nearly noon. If I had time, dearest, I'd write you a longletter describing the situation so as to ease your mind; but I haven't. It's against the rules, and I am really doing this secretly. I'm here, though, safe enough, and wish I were out, of course. Sweetest, you mustbe careful how you try to see me at first. You can't do me much serviceoutside of cheering me up, and you may do yourself great harm. Besides, I think I have done you far more harm than I can ever make up to you andthat you had best give me up, although I know you do not think so, andI would be sad, if you did. I am to be in the Court of Special Pleas, Sixth and Chestnut, on Friday at two o'clock; but you cannot see methere. I'll be out in charge of my counsel. You must be careful. Perhapsyou'll think better, and not come here. 

This last touch was one of pure gloom, the first Cowperwood had everintroduced into their relationship but conditions had changed him. Hitherto he had been in the position of the superior being, the onewho was being sought--although Aileen was and had been well worthseeking--and he had thought that he might escape unscathed, and so growin dignity and power until she might not possibly be worthy of himany longer. He had had that thought. But here, in stripes, it was adifferent matter. Aileen's position, reduced in value as it was by herlong, ardent relationship with him, was now, nevertheless, superior tohis--apparently so. For after all, was she not Edward Butler's daughter, and might she, after she had been away from him a while, wish to becomea convict's bride. She ought not to want to, and she might not want to, for all he knew; she might change her mind. She ought not to waitfor him. Her life was not yet ruined. The public did not know, so hethought--not generally anyhow--that she had been his mistress. She mightmarry. Why not, and so pass out of his life forever. And would not thatbe sad for him? And yet did he not owe it to her, to a sense of fairplay in himself to ask her to give him up, or at least think over thewisdom of doing so?

He did her the justice to believe that she would not want to give himup; and in his position, however harmful it might be to her, it was anadvantage, a connecting link with the finest period of his past life, to have her continue to love him. He could not, however, scribbling thisnote in his cell in Wingate's presence, and giving it to him to mail(Overseer Chapin was kindly keeping a respectful distance, though he wassupposed to be present), refrain from adding, at the last moment, thislittle touch of doubt which, when she read it, struck Aileen to theheart. She read it as gloom on his part--as great depression. Perhaps, after all, the penitentiary and so soon, was really breaking his spirit, and he had held up so courageously so long. Because of this, now she wasmadly eager to get to him, to console him, even though it was difficult, perilous. She must, she said. 

In regard to visits from the various members of his family--his motherand father, his brother, his wife, and his sister--Cowperwood madeit plain to them on one of the days on which he was out attending abankruptcy hearing, that even providing it could be arranged he didnot think they should come oftener than once in three months, unless hewrote them or sent word by Steger. The truth was that he really did notcare to see much of any of them at present. He was sick of the wholesocial scheme of things. In fact he wanted to be rid of the turmoil hehad been in, seeing it had proved so useless. He had used nearly fifteenthousand dollars thus far in defending himself--court costs, familymaintenance, Steger, etc. ; but he did not mind that. He expected to makesome little money working through Wingate. His family were not utterlywithout funds, sufficient to live on in a small way. He had advised themto remove into houses more in keeping with their reduced circumstances, which they had done--his mother and father and brothers and sister toa three-story brick house of about the caliber of the old ButtonwoodStreet house, and his wife to a smaller, less expensive two-story one onNorth Twenty-first Street, near the penitentiary, a portion of the moneysaved out of the thirty-five thousand dollars extracted from Stenerunder false pretenses aiding to sustain it. Of course all this wasa terrible descent from the Girard Avenue mansion for the elderCowperwood; for here was none of the furniture which characterizedthe other somewhat gorgeous domicile--merely store-bought, ready-madefurniture, and neat but cheap hangings and fixtures generally. Theassignees, to whom all Cowperwood's personal property belonged, and towhom Cowperwood, the elder, had surrendered all his holdings, would notpermit anything of importance to be removed. It had all to be sold forthe benefit of creditors. A few very small things, but only a few, hadbeen kept, as everything had been inventoried some time before. One ofthe things which old Cowperwood wanted was his own desk which Frank hadhad designed for him; but as it was valued at five hundred dollars andcould not be relinquished by the sheriff except on payment of that sum, or by auction, and as Henry Cowperwood had no such sum to spare, he hadto let the desk go. There were many things they all wanted, and AnnaAdelaide had literally purloined a few though she did not admit the factto her parents until long afterward. 

There came a day when the two houses in Girard Avenue were the sceneof a sheriffs sale, during which the general public, without let orhindrance, was permitted to tramp through the rooms and examine thepictures, statuary, and objects of art generally, which wereauctioned off to the highest bidder. Considerable fame had attached toCowperwood's activities in this field, owing in the first place to thereal merit of what he had brought together, and in the next place to theenthusiastic comment of such men as Wilton Ellsworth, Fletcher Norton, Gordon Strake--architects and art dealers whose judgment and taste wereconsidered important in Philadelphia. All of the lovely things by whichhe had set great store--small bronzes, representative of the bestperiod of the Italian Renaissance; bits of Venetian glass which he hadcollected with great care--a full curio case; statues by Powers, Hosmer, and Thorwaldsen--things which would be smiled at thirty years later, but which were of high value then; all of his pictures by representativeAmerican painters from Gilbert to Eastman Johnson, together with a fewspecimens of the current French and English schools, went for a song. Art judgment in Philadelphia at this time was not exceedingly high;and some of the pictures, for lack of appreciative understanding, weredisposed of at much too low a figure. Strake, Norton, and Ellsworthwere all present and bought liberally. Senator Simpson, Mollenhauer, andStrobik came to see what they could see. The small-fry politicianswere there, en masse. But Simpson, calm judge of good art, securedpractically the best of all that was offered. To him went the curiocase of Venetian glass; one pair of tall blue-and-white Mohammedancylindrical vases; fourteen examples of Chinese jade, including severalartists' water-dishes and a pierced window-screen of the faintest tingeof green. To Mollenhauer went the furniture and decorations of theentry-hall and reception-room of Henry Cowperwood's house, and to EdwardStrobik two of Cowperwood's bird's-eye maple bedroom suites for the mostmodest of prices. Adam Davis was present and secured the secretaire ofbuhl which the elder Cowperwood prized so highly. To Fletcher Nortonwent the four Greek vases--a kylix, a water-jar, and two amphorae--whichhe had sold to Cowperwood and which he valued highly. Various objectsof art, including a Sevres dinner set, a Gobelin tapestry, Barye bronzesand pictures by Detaille, Fortuny, and George Inness, went to WalterLeigh, Arthur Rivers, Joseph Zimmerman, Judge Kitchen, Harper Steger, Terrence Relihan, Trenor Drake, Mr. And Mrs. Simeon Jones, W. C. Davison, Frewen Kasson, Fletcher Norton, and Judge Rafalsky. 

Within four days after the sale began the two houses were bare of theircontents. Even the objects in the house at 931 North Tenth Street hadbeen withdrawn from storage where they had been placed at the time itwas deemed advisable to close this institution, and placed on sale withthe other objects in the two homes. It was at this time that the seniorCowperwoods first learned of something which seemed to indicate amystery which had existed in connection with their son and his wife. No one of all the Cowperwoods was present during all this gloomydistribution; and Aileen, reading of the disposition of all the wares, and knowing their value to Cowperwood, to say nothing of their charm forher, was greatly depressed; yet she was not long despondent, for she wasconvinced that Cowperwood would some day regain his liberty and attain aposition of even greater significance in the financial world. She couldnot have said why but she was sure of it. 

Chapter LV

In the meanwhile Cowperwood had been transferred to a new overseer and anew cell in Block 3 on the ground door, which was like all the othersin size, ten by sixteen, but to which was attached the small yardpreviously mentioned. Warden Desmas came up two days before he wastransferred, and had another short conversation with him through hiscell door. 

"You'll be transferred on Monday, " he said, in his reserved, slow way. "They'll give you a yard, though it won't be much good to you--weonly allow a half-hour a day in it. I've told the overseer about yourbusiness arrangements. He'll treat you right in that matter. Just becareful not to take up too much time that way, and things will work out. I've decided to let you learn caning chairs. That'll be the best foryou. It's easy, and it'll occupy your mind. "

The warden and some allied politicians made a good thing out of thisprison industry. It was really not hard labor--the tasks set were simpleand not oppressive, but all of the products were promptly sold, andthe profits pocketed. It was good, therefore, to see all the prisonersworking, and it did them good. Cowperwood was glad of the chance todo something, for he really did not care so much for books, and hisconnection with Wingate and his old affairs were not sufficient toemploy his mind in a satisfactory way. At the same time, he could nothelp thinking, if he seemed strange to himself, now, how much strangerhe would seem then, behind these narrow bars working at so commonplace atask as caning chairs. Nevertheless, he now thanked Desmas for this, as well as for the sheets and the toilet articles which had just beenbrought in. 

"That's all right, " replied the latter, pleasantly and softly, by nowmuch intrigued by Cowperwood. "I know that there are men and men here, the same as anywhere. If a man knows how to use these things and wantsto be clean, I wouldn't be one to put anything in his way. "

The new overseer with whom Cowperwood had to deal was a very differentperson from Elias Chapin. His name was Walter Bonhag, and he was notmore than thirty-seven years of age--a big, flabby sort of person with acrafty mind, whose principal object in life was to see that this prisonsituation as he found it should furnish him a better income than hisnormal salary provided. A close study of Bonhag would have seemed toindicate that he was a stool-pigeon of Desmas, but this was really nottrue except in a limited way. Because Bonhag was shrewd andsycophantic, quick to see a point in his or anybody else's favor, Desmasinstinctively realized that he was the kind of man who could be trustedto be lenient on order or suggestion. That is, if Desmas had the leastinterest in a prisoner he need scarcely say so much to Bonhag; he mightmerely suggest that this man was used to a different kind of life, orthat, because of some past experience, it might go hard with him if hewere handled roughly; and Bonhag would strain himself to be pleasant. The trouble was that to a shrewd man of any refinement his attentionswere objectionable, being obviously offered for a purpose, and to a pooror ignorant man they were brutal and contemptuous. He had built up anextra income for himself inside the prison by selling the prisonersextra allowances of things which he secretly brought into the prison. Itwas strictly against the rules, in theory at least, to bring in anythingwhich was not sold in the store-room--tobacco, writing paper, pens, ink, whisky, cigars, or delicacies of any kind. On the other hand, andexcellently well for him, it was true that tobacco of an inferiorgrade was provided, as well as wretched pens, ink and paper, so that noself-respecting man, if he could help it, would endure them. Whiskywas not allowed at all, and delicacies were abhorred as indicating rankfavoritism; nevertheless, they were brought in. If a prisoner had themoney and was willing to see that Bonhag secured something for histrouble, almost anything would be forthcoming. Also the privilege ofbeing sent into the general yard as a "trusty, " or being allowed to stayin the little private yard which some cells possessed, longer than thehalf-hour ordinarily permitted, was sold. 

One of the things curiously enough at this time, which worked inCowperwood's favor, was the fact that Bonhag was friendly with theoverseer who had Stener in charge, and Stener, because of his politicalfriends, was being liberally treated, and Bonhag knew of this. He wasnot a careful reader of newspapers, nor had he any intellectual graspof important events; but he knew by now that both Stener and Cowperwoodwere, or had been, individuals of great importance in the community;also that Cowperwood had been the more important of the two. Better yet, as Bonhag now heard, Cowperwood still had money. Some prisoner, who waspermitted to read the paper, told him so. And so, entirely asidefrom Warden Desmas's recommendation, which was given in a very quiet, noncommittal way, Bonhag was interested to see what he could do forCowperwood for a price. 

The day Cowperwood was installed in his new cell, Bonhag lolled up tothe door, which was open, and said, in a semi-patronizing way, "Gotall your things over yet?" It was his business to lock the door onceCowperwood was inside it. 

"Yes, sir, " replied Cowperwood, who had been shrewd enough to get thenew overseer's name from Chapin; "this is Mr. Bonhag, I presume?"

"That's me, " replied Bonhag, not a little flattered by the recognition, but still purely interested by the practical side of this encounter. Hewas anxious to study Cowperwood, to see what type of man he was. 

"You'll find it a little different down here from up there, " observedBonhag. "It ain't so stuffy. These doors out in the yards make adifference. "

"Oh, yes, " said Cowperwood, observantly and shrewdly, "that is the yardMr. Desmas spoke of. "

At the mention of the magic name, if Bonhag had been a horse, his earswould have been seen to lift. For, of course, if Cowperwood was sofriendly with Desmas that the latter had described to him the type ofcell he was to have beforehand, it behooved Bonhag to be especiallycareful. 

"Yes, that's it, but it ain't much, " he observed. "They only allow ahalf-hour a day in it. Still it would be all right if a person couldstay out there longer. "

This was his first hint at graft, favoritism; and Cowperwood distinctlycaught the sound of it in his voice. 

"That's too bad, " he said. "I don't suppose good conduct helps a personto get more. " He waited to hear a reply, but instead Bonhag continuedwith: "I'd better teach you your new trade now. You've got to learn tocane chairs, so the warden says. If you want, we can begin right away. "But without waiting for Cowperwood to acquiesce, he went off, returningafter a time with three unvarnished frames of chairs and a bundleof cane strips or withes, which he deposited on the floor. Having sodone--and with a flourish--he now continued: "Now I'll show you ifyou'll watch me, " and he began showing Cowperwood how the strips wereto be laced through the apertures on either side, cut, and fastenedwith little hickory pegs. This done, he brought a forcing awl, a smallhammer, a box of pegs, and a pair of clippers. After several briefdemonstrations with different strips, as to how the geometric forms weredesigned, he allowed Cowperwood to take the matter in hand, watchingover his shoulder. The financier, quick at anything, manual or mental, went at it in his customary energetic fashion, and in five minutesdemonstrated to Bonhag that, barring skill and speed, which could onlycome with practice, he could do it as well as another. "You'll make outall right, " said Bonhag. "You're supposed to do ten of those a day. Wewon't count the next few days, though, until you get your hand in. Afterthat I'll come around and see how you're getting along. You understandabout the towel on the door, don't you?" he inquired. 

"Yes, Mr. Chapin explained that to me, " replied Cowperwood. "I think Iknow what most of the rules are now. I'll try not to break any of them. "

The days which followed brought a number of modifications of his prisonlot, but not sufficient by any means to make it acceptable to him. Bonhag, during the first few days in which he trained Cowperwood in theart of caning chairs, managed to make it perfectly clear that there werea number of things he would be willing to do for him. One of the thingsthat moved him to this, was that already he had been impressed by thefact that Stener's friends were coming to see him in larger numbers thanCowperwood's, sending him an occasional basket of fruit, which hegave to the overseers, and that his wife and children had been alreadypermitted to visit him outside the regular visiting-day. This was acause for jealousy on Bonhag's part. His fellow-overseer was lording itover him--telling him, as it were, of the high jinks in Block 4. Bonhag really wanted Cowperwood to spruce up and show what he could do, socially or otherwise. 

And so now he began with: "I see you have your lawyer and your partnerhere every day. There ain't anybody else you'd like to have visit you, is there? Of course, it's against the rules to have your wife or sisteror anybody like that, except on visiting days--" And here he pausedand rolled a large and informing eye on Cowperwood--such an eye as wassupposed to convey dark and mysterious things. "But all the rules ain'tkept around here by a long shot. "

Cowperwood was not the man to lose a chance of this kind. He smiled alittle--enough to relieve himself, and to convey to Bonhag that he wasgratified by the information, but vocally he observed: "I'll tell youhow it is, Mr. Bonhag. I believe you understand my position better thanmost men would, and that I can talk to you. There are people who wouldlike to come here, but I have been afraid to let them come. I didnot know that it could be arranged. If it could be, I would be verygrateful. You and I are practical men--I know that if any favors areextended some of those who help to bring them about must be lookedafter. If you can do anything to make it a little more comfortable forme here I will show you that I appreciate it. I haven't any money on myperson, but I can always get it, and I will see that you are properlylooked after. "

Bonhag's short, thick ears tingled. This was the kind of talk he likedto hear. "I can fix anything like that, Mr. Cowperwood, " he replied, servilely. "You leave it to me. If there's any one you want to see atany time, just let me know. Of course I have to be very careful, and sodo you, but that's all right, too. If you want to stay out in that yarda little longer in the mornings or get out there afternoons or evenings, from now on, why, go ahead. It's all right. I'll just leave the dooropen. If the warden or anybody else should be around, I'll just scratchon your door with my key, and you come in and shut it. If there'sanything you want from the outside I can get it for you--jelly or eggsor butter or any little thing like that. You might like to fix up yourmeals a little that way. "

"I'm certainly most grateful, Mr. Bonhag, " returned Cowperwood in hisgrandest manner, and with a desire to smile, but he kept a straightface. 

"In regard to that other matter, " went on Bonhag, referring to thematter of extra visitors, "I can fix that any time you want to. I knowthe men out at the gate. If you want anybody to come here, just write'em a note and give it to me, and tell 'em to ask for me when they come. That'll get 'em in all right. When they get here you can talk to 'emin your cell. See! Only when I tap they have to come out. You want toremember that. So just you let me know. "

Cowperwood was exceedingly grateful. He said so in direct, choicelanguage. It occurred to him at once that this was Aileen's opportunity, and that he could now notify her to come. If she veiled herselfsufficiently she would probably be safe enough. He decided to write her, and when Wingate came he gave him a letter to mail. 

Two days later, at three o'clock in the afternoon--the time appointedby him--Aileen came to see him. She was dressed in gray broadclothwith white-velvet trimmings and cut-steel buttons which glistened likesilver, and wore, as additional ornaments, as well as a protectionagainst the cold, a cap, stole, and muff of snow-white ermine. Overthis rather striking costume she had slipped a long dark circular cloak, which she meant to lay off immediately upon her arrival. She had madea very careful toilet as to her shoes, gloves, hair, and the goldornaments which she wore. Her face was concealed by a thick green veil, as Cowperwood had suggested; and she arrived at an hour when, as near ashe had been able to prearrange, he would be alone. Wingate usually cameat four, after business, and Steger in the morning, when he came at all. She was very nervous over this strange adventure, leaving the street-carin which she had chosen to travel some distance away and walking up aside street. The cold weather and the gray walls under a gray sky gaveher a sense of defeat, but she had worked very hard to look nice inorder to cheer her lover up. She knew how readily he responded to theinfluence of her beauty when properly displayed. 

Cowperwood, in view of her coming, had made his cell as acceptable aspossible. It was clean, because he had swept it himself and made his ownbed; and besides he had shaved and combed his hair, and otherwise puthimself to rights. The caned chairs on which he was working had been putin the corner at the end of the bed. His few dishes were washed andhung up, and his clogs brushed with a brush which he now kept for thepurpose. Never before, he thought to himself, with a peculiar feelingof artistic degradation, had Aileen seen him like this. She had alwaysadmired his good taste in clothes, and the way he carried himself inthem; and now she was to see him in garments which no dignity of bodycould make presentable. Only a stoic sense of his own soul-dignity aidedhim here. After all, as he now thought, he was Frank A. Cowperwood, and that was something, whatever he wore. And Aileen knew it. Again, he might be free and rich some day, and he knew that she believed that. Best of all, his looks under these or any other circumstances, as heknew, would make no difference to Aileen. She would only love him themore. It was her ardent sympathy that he was afraid of. He was so gladthat Bonhag had suggested that she might enter the cell, for it would bea grim procedure talking to her through a barred door. 

When Aileen arrived she asked for Mr. Bonhag, and was permitted to go tothe central rotunda, where he was sent for. When he came she murmured:"I wish to see Mr. Cowperwood, if you please"; and he exclaimed, "Oh, yes, just come with me. " As he came across the rotunda floor from hiscorridor he was struck by the evident youth of Aileen, even though hecould not see her face. This now was something in accordance withwhat he had expected of Cowperwood. A man who could steal five hundredthousand dollars and set a whole city by the ears must have wonderfuladventures of all kinds, and Aileen looked like a true adventure. He ledher to the little room where he kept his desk and detained visitors, andthen bustled down to Cowperwood's cell, where the financier was workingon one of his chairs and scratching on the door with his key, called:"There's a young lady here to see you. Do you want to let her comeinside?"

"Thank you, yes, " replied Cowperwood; and Bonhag hurried away, unintentionally forgetting, in his boorish incivility, to unlock thecell door, so that he had to open it in Aileen's presence. The longcorridor, with its thick doors, mathematically spaced gratings andgray-stone pavement, caused Aileen to feel faint at heart. A prison, iron cells! And he was in one of them. It chilled her usually courageousspirit. What a terrible place for her Frank to be! What a horrible thingto have put him here! Judges, juries, courts, laws, jails seemed like somany foaming ogres ranged about the world, glaring down upon her andher love-affair. The clank of the key in the lock, and the heavy outwardswinging of the door, completed her sense of the untoward. And then shesaw Cowperwood. 

Because of the price he was to receive, Bonhag, after admitting her, strolled discreetly away. Aileen looked at Cowperwood from behindher veil, afraid to speak until she was sure Bonhag had gone. AndCowperwood, who was retaining his self-possession by an effort, signaledher but with difficulty after a moment or two. "It's all right, " hesaid. "He's gone away. " She lifted her veil, removed her cloak, and tookin, without seeming to, the stuffy, narrow thickness of the room, hiswretched shoes, the cheap, misshapen suit, the iron door behind himleading out into the little yard attached to his cell. Against such abackground, with his partially caned chairs visible at the end of thebed, he seemed unnatural, weird even. Her Frank! And in this condition. She trembled and it was useless for her to try to speak. She could onlyput her arms around him and stroke his head, murmuring: "My poor boy--mydarling. Is this what they have done to you? Oh, my poor darling. " Sheheld his head while Cowperwood, anxious to retain his composure, wincedand trembled, too. Her love was so full--so genuine. It was so soothingat the same time that it was unmanning, as now he could see, making ofhim a child again. And for the first time in his life, some inexplicabletrick of chemistry--that chemistry of the body, of blind forces which soreadily supersedes reason at times--he lost his self-control. Thedepth of Aileen's feelings, the cooing sound of her voice, the velvetytenderness of her hands, that beauty that had drawn him all thetime--more radiant here perhaps within these hard walls, and in theface of his physical misery, than it had ever been before--completelyunmanned him. He did not understand how it could; he tried to defy themoods, but he could not. When she held his head close and caressed it, of a sudden, in spite of himself, his breast felt thick and stuffy, andhis throat hurt him. He felt, for him, an astonishingly strange feeling, a desire to cry, which he did his best to overcome; it shocked him so. There then combined and conspired to defeat him a strange, rich pictureof the great world he had so recently lost, of the lovely, magnificentworld which he hoped some day to regain. He felt more poignantly at thismoment than ever he had before the degradation of the clog shoes, thecotton shirt, the striped suit, the reputation of a convict, permanentand not to be laid aside. He drew himself quickly away from her, turnedhis back, clinched his hands, drew his muscles taut; but it was toolate. He was crying, and he could not stop. 

"Oh, damn it!" he exclaimed, half angrily, half self-commiseratingly, incombined rage and shame. "Why should I cry? What the devil's the matterwith me, anyhow?"

Aileen saw it. She fairly flung herself in front of him, seized his headwith one hand, his shabby waist with the other, and held him tight in agrip that he could not have readily released. 

"Oh, honey, honey, honey!" she exclaimed, pityingly feverishly. "I loveyou, I adore you. They could cut my body into bits if it would do youany good. To think that they should make you cry! Oh, my sweet, mysweet, my darling boy!"

She pulled his still shaking body tighter, and with her free handcaressed his head. She kissed his eyes, his hair, his cheeks. He pulledhimself loose again after a moment, exclaiming, "What the devil's gotinto me?" but she drew him back. 

"Never mind, honey darling, don't you be ashamed to cry. Cry here on myshoulder. Cry here with me. My baby--my honey pet!"

He quieted down after a few moments, cautioning her against Bonhag, andregaining his former composure, which he was so ashamed to have lost. 

"You're a great girl, pet, " he said, with a tender and yet apologeticsmile. "You're all right--all that I need--a great help to me; but don'tworry any longer about me, dear. I'm all right. It isn't as bad as youthink. How are you?"

Aileen on her part was not to be soothed so easily. His many woes, including his wretched position here, outraged her sense of justice anddecency. To think her fine, wonderful Frank should be compelled to cometo this--to cry. She stroked his head, tenderly, while wild, deadly, unreasoning opposition to life and chance and untoward opposition surgedin her brain. Her father--damn him! Her family--pooh! What did shecare? Her Frank--her Frank. How little all else mattered where he wasconcerned. Never, never, never would she desert him--never--come whatmight. And now she clung to him in silence while she fought in herbrain an awful battle with life and law and fate and circumstance. Law--nonsense! People--they were brutes, devils, enemies, hounds! Shewas delighted, eager, crazy to make a sacrifice of herself. She would goanywhere for or with her Frank now. She would do anything for him. Her family was nothing--life nothing, nothing, nothing. She would doanything he wished, nothing more, nothing less; anything she could do tosave him, to make his life happier, but nothing for any one else. 

Chapter LVI

The days passed. Once the understanding with Bonhag was reached, Cowperwood's wife, mother and sister were allowed to appear onoccasions. His wife and the children were now settled in the littlehome for which he was paying, and his financial obligations to her weresatisfied by Wingate, who paid her one hundred and twenty five dollarsa month for him. He realized that he owed her more, but he was sailingrather close to the wind financially, these days. The final collapse ofhis old interests had come in March, when he had been legally declared abankrupt, and all his properties forfeited to satisfy the claims againsthim. The city's claim of five hundred thousand dollars would have eatenup more than could have been realized at the time, had not a pro ratapayment of thirty cents on the dollar been declared. Even then the citynever received its due, for by some hocus-pocus it was declared to haveforfeited its rights. Its claims had not been made at the proper time inthe proper way. This left larger portions of real money for the others. 

Fortunately by now Cowperwood had begun to see that by a littleexperimenting his business relations with Wingate were likely toprove profitable. The broker had made it clear that he intended to beperfectly straight with him. He had employed Cowperwood's two brothers, at very moderate salaries--one to take care of the books and look afterthe office, and the other to act on 'change with him, for their seats inthat organization had never been sold. And also, by considerable effort, he had succeeded in securing Cowperwood, Sr. , a place as a clerk in abank. For the latter, since the day of his resignation from the ThirdNational had been in a deep, sad quandary as to what further to do withhis life. His son's disgrace! The horror of his trial and incarceration. Since the day of Frank's indictment and more so, since his sentence andcommitment to the Eastern Penitentiary, he was as one who walked in adream. That trial! That charge against Frank! His own son, a convict instripes--and after he and Frank had walked so proudly in the front rankof the successful and respected here. Like so many others in his hour ofdistress, he had taken to reading the Bible, looking into its pages forsomething of that mind consolation that always, from youth up, althoughrather casually in these latter years, he had imagined was to be foundthere. The Psalms, Isaiah, the Book of Job, Ecclesiastes. And forthe most part, because of the fraying nature of his present ills, notfinding it. 

But day after day secreting himself in his room--a little hall-bedroomoffice in his newest home, where to his wife, he pretended that hehad some commercial matters wherewith he was still concerned--and onceinside, the door locked, sitting and brooding on all that had befallenhim--his losses; his good name. Or, after months of this, and because ofthe new position secured for him by Wingate--a bookkeeping job in oneof the outlying banks--slipping away early in the morning, and returninglate at night, his mind a gloomy epitome of all that had been or yetmight be. 

To see him bustling off from his new but very much reduced home at halfafter seven in the morning in order to reach the small bank, which wassome distance away and not accessible by street-car line, was one ofthose pathetic sights which the fortunes of trade so frequently offer. He carried his lunch in a small box because it was inconvenient toreturn home in the time allotted for this purpose, and because his newsalary did not permit the extravagance of a purchased one. It was hisone ambition now to eke out a respectable but unseen existence until heshould die, which he hoped would not be long. He was a patheticfigure with his thin legs and body, his gray hair, and his snow-whiteside-whiskers. He was very lean and angular, and, when confronted by adifficult problem, a little uncertain or vague in his mind. An old habitwhich had grown on him in the years of his prosperity of putting hishand to his mouth and of opening his eyes in an assumption of surprise, which had no basis in fact, now grew upon him. He really degenerated, although he did not know it, into a mere automaton. Life strews itsshores with such interesting and pathetic wrecks. 

One of the things that caused Cowperwood no little thought at this time, and especially in view of his present extreme indifference to her, washow he would bring up this matter of his indifference to his wife andhis desire to end their relationship. Yet apart from the brutality ofthe plain truth, he saw no way. As he could plainly see, she was nowpersisting in her pretense of devotion, uncolored, apparently, by anysuspicion of what had happened. Yet since his trial and conviction, shehad been hearing from one source and another that he was still intimatewith Aileen, and it was only her thought of his concurrent woes, and thefact that he might possibly be spared to a successful financial life, that now deterred her from speaking. He was shut up in a cell, she saidto herself, and she was really very sorry for him, but she did not lovehim as she once had. He was really too deserving of reproach for hisgeneral unseemly conduct, and no doubt this was what was intended, aswell as being enforced, by the Governing Power of the world. 

One can imagine how much such an attitude as this would appeal toCowperwood, once he had detected it. By a dozen little signs, in spiteof the fact that she brought him delicacies, and commiserated on hisfate, he could see that she felt not only sad, but reproachful, and ifthere was one thing that Cowperwood objected to at all times it wasthe moral as well as the funereal air. Contrasted with the cheerfulcombative hopefulness and enthusiasm of Aileen, the wearied uncertaintyof Mrs. Cowperwood was, to say the least, a little tame. Aileen, afterher first burst of rage over his fate, which really did not develop anytears on her part, was apparently convinced that he would get out andbe very successful again. She talked success and his future all the timebecause she believed in it. Instinctively she seemed to realize thatprison walls could not make a prison for him. Indeed, on the first dayshe left she handed Bonhag ten dollars, and after thanking him in herattractive voice--without showing her face, however--for his obviouskindness to her, bespoke his further favor for Cowperwood--"a very greatman, " as she described him, which sealed that ambitious materialist'sfate completely. There was nothing the overseer would not do for theyoung lady in the dark cloak. She might have stayed in Cowperwood's cellfor a week if the visiting-hours of the penitentiary had not made itimpossible. 

The day that Cowperwood decided to discuss with his wife the wearinessof his present married state and his desire to be free of it was somefour months after he had entered the prison. By that time he had becomeinured to his convict life. The silence of his cell and the menial taskshe was compelled to perform, which had at first been so distressing, banal, maddening, in their pointless iteration, had now become merelycommonplace--dull, but not painful. Furthermore he had learned many ofthe little resources of the solitary convict, such as that of using hislamp to warm up some delicacy which he had saved from a previous meal orfrom some basket which had been sent him by his wife or Aileen. He hadpartially gotten rid of the sickening odor of his cell by persuadingBonhag to bring him small packages of lime; which he used with greatfreedom. Also he succeeded in defeating some of the more venturesomerats with traps; and with Bonhag's permission, after his cell door hadbeen properly locked at night, and sealed with the outer wooden door, hewould take his chair, if it were not too cold, out into the little backyard of his cell and look at the sky, where, when the nights were clear, the stars were to be seen. He had never taken any interest in astronomyas a scientific study, but now the Pleiades, the belt of Orion, the BigDipper and the North Star, to which one of its lines pointed, caught hisattention, almost his fancy. He wondered why the stars of the belt ofOrion came to assume the peculiar mathematical relation to each otherwhich they held, as far as distance and arrangement were concerned, and whether that could possibly have any intellectual significance. Thenebulous conglomeration of the suns in Pleiades suggested a soundlessdepth of space, and he thought of the earth floating like a little ballin immeasurable reaches of ether. His own life appeared very trivialin view of these things, and he found himself asking whether it was allreally of any significance or importance. He shook these moods off withease, however, for the man was possessed of a sense of grandeur, largely in relation to himself and his affairs; and his temperament wasessentially material and vital. Something kept telling him that whateverhis present state he must yet grow to be a significant personage, onewhose fame would be heralded the world over--who must try, try, try. Itwas not given all men to see far or to do brilliantly; but to him itwas given, and he must be what he was cut out to be. There was no moreescaping the greatness that was inherent in him than there was for somany others the littleness that was in them. 

Mrs. Cowperwood came in that afternoon quite solemnly, bearing severalchanges of linen, a pair of sheets, some potted meat and a pie. She wasnot exactly doleful, but Cowperwood thought that she was tending towardit, largely because of her brooding over his relationship to Aileen, which he knew that she knew. Something in her manner decided him tospeak before she left; and after asking her how the children were, andlistening to her inquiries in regard to the things that he needed, hesaid to her, sitting on his single chair while she sat on his bed:

"Lillian, there's something I've been wanting to talk with you aboutfor some time. I should have done it before, but it's better late thannever. I know that you know that there is something between AileenButler and me, and we might as well have it open and aboveboard. It'strue I am very fond of her and she is very devoted to me, and if ever Iget out of here I want to arrange it so that I can marry her. That meansthat you will have to give me a divorce, if you will; and I want to talkto you about that now. This can't be so very much of a surprise to you, because you must have seen this long while that our relationship hasn'tbeen all that it might have been, and under the circumstances this can'tprove such a very great hardship to you--I am sure. " He paused, waiting, for Mrs. Cowperwood at first said nothing. 

Her thought, when he first broached this, was that she ought to makesome demonstration of astonishment or wrath: but when she looked intohis steady, examining eyes, so free from the illusion of or interest indemonstrations of any kind, she realized how useless it would be. He wasso utterly matter-of-fact in what seemed to her quite private and secretaffairs--very shameless. She had never been able to understand quite howhe could take the subtleties of life as he did, anyhow. Certain thingswhich she always fancied should be hushed up he spoke of with thegreatest nonchalance. Her ears tingled sometimes at his franknessin disposing of a social situation; but she thought this must becharacteristic of notable men, and so there was nothing to be said aboutit. Certain men did as they pleased; society did not seem to be able todeal with them in any way. Perhaps God would, later--she was not sure. Anyhow, bad as he was, direct as he was, forceful as he was, he was farmore interesting than most of the more conservative types in whom thesocial virtues of polite speech and modest thoughts were seeminglypredominate. 

"I know, " she said, rather peacefully, although with a touch of angerand resentment in her voice. "I've known all about it all this time. Iexpected you would say something like this to me some day. It's a nicereward for all my devotion to you; but it's just like you, Frank. Whenyou are set on something, nothing can stop you. It wasn't enough thatyou were getting along so nicely and had two children whom you ought tolove, but you had to take up with this Butler creature until her nameand yours are a by-word throughout the city. I know that she comesto this prison. I saw her out here one day as I was coming in, and Isuppose every one else knows it by now. She has no sense of decency andshe does not care--the wretched, vain thing--but I would have thoughtthat you would be ashamed, Frank, to go on the way that you have, whenyou still have me and the children and your father and mother and whenyou are certain to have such a hard fight to get yourself on your feet, as it is. If she had any sense of decency she would not have anything todo with you--the shameless thing. "

Cowperwood looked at his wife with unflinching eyes. He read in herremarks just what his observation had long since confirmed--that she wassympathetically out of touch with him. She was no longer so attractivephysically, and intellectually she was not Aileen's equal. Also thatcontact with those women who had deigned to grace his home in hisgreatest hour of prosperity had proved to him conclusively she waslacking in certain social graces. Aileen was by no means so vastlybetter, still she was young and amenable and adaptable, and could stillbe improved. Opportunity as he now chose to think, might make Aileen, whereas for Lillian--or at least, as he now saw it--it could do nothing. 

"I'll tell you how it is, Lillian, " he said; "I'm not sure that youare going to get what I mean exactly, but you and I are not at all wellsuited to each other any more. "

"You didn't seem to think that three or four years ago, " interrupted hiswife, bitterly. 

"I married you when I was twenty-one, " went on Cowperwood, quitebrutally, not paying any attention to her interruption, "and I wasreally too young to know what I was doing. I was a mere boy. It doesn'tmake so much difference about that. I am not using that as an excuse. The point that I am trying to make is this--that right or wrong, important or not important, I have changed my mind since. I don't loveyou any more, and I don't feel that I want to keep up a relationship, however it may look to the public, that is not satisfactory to me. Youhave one point of view about life, and I have another. You think yourpoint of view is the right one, and there are thousands of people whowill agree with you; but I don't think so. We have never quarreled aboutthese things, because I didn't think it was important to quarrel aboutthem. I don't see under the circumstances that I am doing you any greatinjustice when I ask you to let me go. I don't intend to desert you orthe children--you will get a good living-income from me as long as Ihave the money to give it to you--but I want my personal freedom whenI come out of here, if ever I do, and I want you to let me have it. Themoney that you had and a great deal more, once I am out of here, youwill get back when I am on my feet again. But not if you oppose me--onlyif you help me. I want, and intend to help you always--but in my way. "

He smoothed the leg of his prison trousers in a thoughtful way, andplucked at the sleeve of his coat. Just now he looked very much likea highly intelligent workman as he sat here, rather than like theimportant personage that he was. Mrs. Cowperwood was very resentful. 

"That's a nice way to talk to me, and a nice way to treat me!" sheexclaimed dramatically, rising and walking the short space--some twosteps--that lay between the wall and the bed. "I might have known thatyou were too young to know your own mind when you married me. Money, of course, that's all you think of and your own gratification. I don'tbelieve you have any sense of justice in you. I don't believe you everhad. You only think of yourself, Frank. I never saw such a man as you. You have treated me like a dog all through this affair; and all thewhile you have been running with that little snip of an Irish thing, and telling her all about your affairs, I suppose. You let me go onbelieving that you cared for me up to the last moment, and then yousuddenly step up and tell me that you want a divorce. I'll not do it. I'll not give you a divorce, and you needn't think it. "

Cowperwood listened in silence. His position, in so far as this maritaltangle was concerned, as he saw, was very advantageous. He was aconvict, constrained by the exigencies of his position to be out ofpersonal contact with his wife for a long period of time to come, whichshould naturally tend to school her to do without him. When he cameout, it would be very easy for her to get a divorce from a convict, particularly if she could allege misconduct with another woman, which hewould not deny. At the same time, he hoped to keep Aileen's name out ofit. Mrs. Cowperwood, if she would, could give any false name if he madeno contest. Besides, she was not a very strong person, intellectuallyspeaking. He could bend her to his will. There was no need of sayingmuch more now; the ice had been broken, the situation had been putbefore her, and time should do the rest. 

"Don't be dramatic, Lillian, " he commented, indifferently. "I'm not sucha loss to you if you have enough to live on. I don't think I want tolive in Philadelphia if ever I come out of here. My idea now is to gowest, and I think I want to go alone. I sha'n't get married right awayagain even if you do give me a divorce. I don't care to take anybodyalong. It would be better for the children if you would stay here anddivorce me. The public would think better of them and you. "

"I'll not do it, " declared Mrs. Cowperwood, emphatically. "I'll neverdo it, never; so there! You can say what you choose. You owe it to me tostick by me and the children after all I've done for you, and I'll notdo it. You needn't ask me any more; I'll not do it. "

"Very well, " replied Cowperwood, quietly, getting up. "We needn't talkabout it any more now. Your time is nearly up, anyhow. " (Twenty minuteswas supposed to be the regular allotment for visitors. ) "Perhaps you'llchange your mind sometime. "

She gathered up her muff and the shawl-strap in which she had carriedher gifts, and turned to go. It had been her custom to kiss Cowperwoodin a make-believe way up to this time, but now she was too angry to makethis pretense. And yet she was sorry, too--sorry for herself and, shethought, for him. 

"Frank, " she declared, dramatically, at the last moment, "I never sawsuch a man as you. I don't believe you have any heart. You're not worthyof a good wife. You're worthy of just such a woman as you're getting. The idea!" Suddenly tears came to her eyes, and she flounced scornfullyand yet sorrowfully out. 

Cowperwood stood there. At least there would be no more useless kissingbetween them, he congratulated himself. It was hard in a way, but purelyfrom an emotional point of view. He was not doing her any essentialinjustice, he reasoned--not an economic one--which was the importantthing. She was angry to-day, but she would get over it, and in timemight come to see his point of view. Who could tell? At any rate he hadmade it plain to her what he intended to do and that was something as hesaw it. He reminded one of nothing so much, as he stood there, as ofa young chicken picking its way out of the shell of an old estate. Although he was in a cell of a penitentiary, with nearly four years moreto serve, yet obviously he felt, within himself, that the whole worldwas still before him. He could go west if he could not reestablishhimself in Philadelphia; but he must stay here long enough to win theapproval of those who had known him formerly--to obtain, as it were, aletter of credit which he could carry to other parts. 

"Hard words break no bones, " he said to himself, as his wife went out. "A man's never done till he's done. I'll show some of these people yet. "Of Bonhag, who came to close the cell door, he asked whether it wasgoing to rain, it looked so dark in the hall. 

"It's sure to before night, " replied Bonhag, who was always wonderingover Cowperwood's tangled affairs as he heard them retailed here andthere. 

Chapter LVII

The time that Cowperwood spent in the Eastern Penitentiary ofPennsylvania was exactly thirteen months from the day of his entryto his discharge. The influences which brought about this result werepartly of his willing, and partly not. For one thing, some six monthsafter his incarceration, Edward Malia Butler died, expired sitting inhis chair in his private office at his home. The conduct of Aileen hadbeen a great strain on him. From the time Cowperwood had been sentenced, and more particularly after the time he had cried on Aileen's shoulderin prison, she had turned on her father in an almost brutal way. Herattitude, unnatural for a child, was quite explicable as that of atortured sweetheart. Cowperwood had told her that he thought Butler wasusing his influence to withhold a pardon for him, even though one weregranted to Stener, whose life in prison he had been following withconsiderable interest; and this had enraged her beyond measure. She lostno chance of being practically insulting to her father, ignoring him onevery occasion, refusing as often as possible to eat at the same table, and when she did, sitting next her mother in the place of Norah, withwhom she managed to exchange. She refused to sing or play any morewhen he was present, and persistently ignored the large number of youngpolitical aspirants who came to the house, and whose presence in a wayhad been encouraged for her benefit. Old Butler realized, of course, what it was all about. He said nothing. He could not placate her. 

Her mother and brothers did not understand it at all at first. (Mrs. Butler never understood. ) But not long after Cowperwood's incarcerationCallum and Owen became aware of what the trouble was. Once, when Owenwas coming away from a reception at one of the houses where his growingfinancial importance made him welcome, he heard one of two men whom heknew casually, say to the other, as they stood at the door adjustingtheir coats, "You saw where this fellow Cowperwood got four years, didn't you?"

"Yes, " replied the other. "A clever devil that--wasn't he? I knew thatgirl he was in with, too--you know who I mean. Miss Butler--wasn't thather name?"

Owen was not sure that he had heard right. He did not get the connectionuntil the other guest, opening the door and stepping out, remarked:"Well, old Butler got even, apparently. They say he sent him up. "

Owen's brow clouded. A hard, contentious look came into his eyes. He hadmuch of his father's force. What in the devil were they talking about?What Miss Butler did they have in mind? Could this be Aileen or Norah, and how could Cowperwood come to be in with either of them? It couldnot possibly be Norah, he reflected; she was very much infatuated with ayoung man whom he knew, and was going to marry him. Aileen had beenmost friendly with the Cowperwoods, and had often spoken well of thefinancier. Could it be she? He could not believe it. He thought once ofovertaking the two acquaintances and demanding to know what they meant, but when he came out on the step they were already some distance downthe street and in the opposite direction from that in which he wished togo. He decided to ask his father about this. 

On demand, old Butler confessed at once, but insisted that his son keepsilent about it. 

"I wish I'd have known, " said Owen, grimly. "I'd have shot the dirtydog. "

"Aisy, aisy, " said Butler. "Yer own life's worth more than his, and ye'donly be draggin' the rest of yer family in the dirt with him. He's hadsomethin' to pay him for his dirty trick, and he'll have more. Just yesay nothin' to no one. Wait. He'll be wantin' to get out in a year ortwo. Say nothin' to her aither. Talkin' won't help there. She'll cometo her sinses when he's been away long enough, I'm thinkin'. " Owen hadtried to be civil to his sister after that, but since he was a sticklerfor social perfection and advancement, and so eager to get up in theworld himself, he could not understand how she could possibly have doneany such thing. He resented bitterly the stumbling-block she had put inhis path. Now, among other things, his enemies would have this to throwin his face if they wanted to--and they would want to, trust life forthat. 

Callum reached his knowledge of the matter in quite another manner, butat about the same time. He was a member of an athletic club which had anattractive building in the city, and a fine country club, where he wentoccasionally to enjoy the swimming-pool and the Turkish bath connectedwith it. One of his friends approached him there in the billiard-roomone evening and said, "Say, Butler, you know I'm a good friend of yours, don't you?"

"Why, certainly, I know it, " replied Callum. "What's the matter?"

"Well, you know, " said the young individual, whose name was RichardPethick, looking at Callum with a look of almost strained affection, "I wouldn't come to you with any story that I thought would hurt yourfeelings or that you oughtn't to know about, but I do think you ought toknow about this. " He pulled at a high white collar which was choking hisneck. 

"I know you wouldn't, Pethick, " replied Callum; very much interested. "What is it? What's the point?"

"Well, I don't like to say anything, " replied Pethick, "but that fellowHibbs is saying things around here about your sister. "

"What's that?" exclaimed Callum, straightening up in the most dynamicway and bethinking him of the approved social procedure in all suchcases. He should be very angry. He should demand and exact propersatisfaction in some form or other--by blows very likely if his honorhad been in any way impugned. "What is it he says about my sister? Whatright has he to mention her name here, anyhow? He doesn't know her. "

Pethick affected to be greatly concerned lest he cause trouble betweenCallum and Hibbs. He protested that he did not want to, when, inreality, he was dying to tell. At last he came out with, "Why, he'scirculated the yarn that your sister had something to do with this manCowperwood, who was tried here recently, and that that's why he's justgone to prison. "

"What's that?" exclaimed Callum, losing the make-believe of theunimportant, and taking on the serious mien of some one who feelsdesperately. "He says that, does he? Where is he? I want to see if he'llsay that to me. "

Some of the stern fighting ability of his father showed in his slender, rather refined young face. 

"Now, Callum, " insisted Pethick, realizing the genuine storm he hadraised, and being a little fearful of the result, "do be careful whatyou say. You mustn't have a row in here. You know it's against therules. Besides he may be drunk. It's just some foolish talk he's heard, I'm sure. Now, for goodness' sake, don't get so excited. " Pethick, having evoked the storm, was not a little nervous as to its results inhis own case. He, too, as well as Callum, himself as the tale-bearer, might now be involved. 

But Callum by now was not so easily restrained. His face was quitepale, and he was moving toward the old English grill-room, where Hibbshappened to be, consuming a brandy-and-soda with a friend of about hisown age. Callum entered and called him. 

"Oh, Hibbs!" he said. 

Hibbs, hearing his voice and seeing him in the door, arose and cameover. He was an interesting youth of the collegiate type, educatedat Princeton. He had heard the rumor concerning Aileen from varioussources--other members of the club, for one--and had ventured to repeatit in Pethick's presence. 

"What's that you were just saying about my sister?" asked Callum, grimly, looking Hibbs in the eye. 

"Why--I--" hesitated Hibbs, who sensed trouble and was eager toavoid it. He was not exceptionally brave and looked it. His hair wasstraw-colored, his eyes blue, and his cheeks pink. "Why--nothing inparticular. Who said I was talking about her?" He looked at Pethick, whom he knew to be the tale-bearer, and the latter exclaimed, excitedly:

"Now don't you try to deny it, Hibbs. You know I heard you?"

"Well, what did I say?" asked Hibbs, defiantly. 

"Well, what did you say?" interrupted Callum, grimly, transferring theconversation to himself. "That's just what I want to know. "

"Why, " stammered Hibbs, nervously, "I don't think I've said anythingthat anybody else hasn't said. I just repeated that some one said thatyour sister had been very friendly with Mr. Cowperwood. I didn't say anymore than I have heard other people say around here. "

"Oh, you didn't, did you?" exclaimed Callum, withdrawing his hand fromhis pocket and slapping Hibbs in the face. He repeated the blow with hisleft hand, fiercely. "Perhaps that'll teach you to keep my sister's nameout of your mouth, you pup!"

Hibbs's arms flew up. He was not without pugilistic training, and hestruck back vigorously, striking Callum once in the chest and once inthe neck. In an instant the two rooms of this suite were in an uproar. Tables and chairs were overturned by the energy of men attempting to getto the scene of action. The two combatants were quickly separated; sideswere taken by the friends of each, excited explanations attempted anddefied. Callum was examining the knuckles of his left hand, which werecut from the blow he had delivered. He maintained a gentlemanly calm. Hibbs, very much flustered and excited, insisted that he had been mostunreasonably used. The idea of attacking him here. And, anyhow, as hemaintained now, Pethick had been both eavesdropping and lying about him. Incidentally, the latter was protesting to others that he had donethe only thing which an honorable friend could do. It was a nine days'wonder in the club, and was only kept out of the newspapers by the moststrenuous efforts on the part of the friends of both parties. Callum wasso outraged on discovering that there was some foundation for the rumorat the club in a general rumor which prevailed that he tendered hisresignation, and never went there again. 

"I wish to heaven you hadn't struck that fellow, " counseled Owen, whenthe incident was related to him. "It will only make more talk. She oughtto leave this place; but she won't. She's struck on that fellow yet, andwe can't tell Norah and mother. We will never hear the last of this, youand I--believe me. "

"Damn it, she ought to be made to go, " exclaimed Callum. 

"Well, she won't, " replied Owen. "Father has tried making her, andshe won't go. Just let things stand. He's in the penitentiary now, andthat's probably the end of him. The public seem to think that father puthim there, and that's something. Maybe we can persuade her to go aftera while. I wish to God we had never had sight of that fellow. If ever hecomes out, I've a good notion to kill him. "

"Oh, I wouldn't do anything like that, " replied Callum. "It's useless. It would only stir things up afresh. He's done for, anyhow. "

They planned to urge Norah to marry as soon as possible. And as fortheir feelings toward Aileen, it was a very chilly atmosphere whichMrs. Butler contemplated from now on, much to her confusion, grief, andastonishment. 

In this divided world it was that Butler eventually found himself, allat sea as to what to think or what to do. He had brooded so long now, for months, and as yet had found no solution. And finally, in a form ofreligious despair, sitting at his desk, in his business chair, he hadcollapsed--a weary and disconsolate man of seventy. A lesion of theleft ventricle was the immediate physical cause, although brooding overAileen was in part the mental one. His death could not have been laid tohis grief over Aileen exactly, for he was a very large man--apoplecticand with sclerotic veins and arteries. For a great many years now hehad taken very little exercise, and his digestion had been considerablyimpaired thereby. He was past seventy, and his time had been reached. They found him there the next morning, his hands folded in his lap, hishead on his bosom, quite cold. 

He was buried with honors out of St. Timothy's Church, the funeralattended by a large body of politicians and city officials, whodiscussed secretly among themselves whether his grief over his daughterhad anything to do with his end. All his good deeds were remembered, of course, and Mollenhauer and Simpson sent great floral emblems inremembrance. They were very sorry that he was gone, for they had beena cordial three. But gone he was, and that ended their interest in thematter. He left all of his property to his wife in one of the shortestwills ever recorded locally. 

"I give and bequeath to my beloved wife, Norah, all my property ofwhatsoever kind to be disposed of as she may see fit. "

There was no misconstruing this. A private paper drawn secretly for hersometime before by Butler, explained how the property should be disposedof by her at her death. It was Butler's real will masquerading as hers, and she would not have changed it for worlds; but he wanted her leftin undisturbed possession of everything until she should die. Aileen'soriginally assigned portion had never been changed. According to herfather's will, which no power under the sun could have made Mrs. Butleralter, she was left $250, 000 to be paid at Mrs. Butler's death. Neitherthis fact nor any of the others contained in the paper were communicatedby Mrs. Butler, who retained it to be left as her will. Aileen oftenwondered, but never sought to know, what had been left her. Nothing shefancied--but felt that she could not help this. 

Butler's death led at once to a great change in the temper of thehome. After the funeral the family settled down to a seemingly peacefulcontinuance of the old life; but it was a matter of seeming merely. Thesituation stood with Callum and Owen manifesting a certain degree ofcontempt for Aileen, which she, understanding, reciprocated. She wasvery haughty. Owen had plans of forcing her to leave after Butler'sdeath, but he finally asked himself what was the use. Mrs. Butler, whodid not want to leave the old home, was very fond of Aileen, so thereinlay a reason for letting her remain. Besides, any move to force her outwould have entailed an explanation to her mother, which was not deemedadvisable. Owen himself was interested in Caroline Mollenhauer, whom hehoped some day to marry--as much for her prospective wealth as for anyother reason, though he was quite fond of her. In the January followingButler's death, which occurred in August, Norah was married veryquietly, and the following spring Callum embarked on a similar venture. 

In the meanwhile, with Butler's death, the control of the politicalsituation had shifted considerably. A certain Tom Collins, formerly oneof Butler's henchmen, but latterly a power in the First, Second, Third, and Fourth Wards, where he had numerous saloons and control of otherforms of vice, appeared as a claimant for political recognition. Mollenhauer and Simpson had to consult him, as he could make veryuncertain the disposition of some hundred and fifteen thousand votes, a large number of which were fraudulent, but which fact did not modifytheir deadly character on occasion. Butler's sons disappeared aspossible political factors, and were compelled to confine themselves tothe street-railway and contracting business. The pardon of Cowperwoodand Stener, which Butler would have opposed, because by keeping Stenerin he kept Cowperwood in, became a much easier matter. The scandal ofthe treasury defalcation was gradually dying down; the newspapers hadceased to refer to it in any way. Through Steger and Wingate, a largepetition signed by all important financiers and brokers had been sentto the Governor pointing out that Cowperwood's trial and conviction hadbeen most unfair, and asking that he be pardoned. There was no needof any such effort, so far as Stener was concerned; whenever the timeseemed ripe the politicians were quite ready to say to the Governorthat he ought to let him go. It was only because Butler had opposedCowperwood's release that they had hesitated. It was really not possibleto let out the one and ignore the other; and this petition, coupled withButler's death, cleared the way very nicely. 

Nevertheless, nothing was done until the March following Butler's death, when both Stener and Cowperwood had been incarcerated thirteen months--alength of time which seemed quite sufficient to appease the anger ofthe public at large. In this period Stener had undergone a considerablechange physically and mentally. In spite of the fact that a number ofthe minor aldermen, who had profited in various ways by his largess, called to see him occasionally, and that he had been given, as itwere, almost the liberty of the place, and that his family had notbeen allowed to suffer, nevertheless he realized that his political andsocial days were over. Somebody might now occasionally send him a basketof fruit and assure him that he would not be compelled to suffer muchlonger; but when he did get out, he knew that he had nothing to dependon save his experience as an insurance agent and real-estate dealer. That had been precarious enough in the days when he was trying to getsome small political foothold. How would it be when he was known only asthe man who had looted the treasury of five hundred thousand dollarsand been sent to the penitentiary for five years? Who would lend himthe money wherewith to get a little start, even so much as four or fivethousand dollars? The people who were calling to pay their respects nowand then, and to assure him that he had been badly treated? Never. Allof them could honestly claim that they had not so much to spare. If hehad good security to offer--yes; but if he had good security he wouldnot need to go to them at all. The man who would have actually helpedhim if he had only known was Frank A. Cowperwood. Stener could haveconfessed his mistake, as Cowperwood saw it, and Cowperwood would havegiven him the money gladly, without any thought of return. But by hispoor understanding of human nature, Stener considered that Cowperwoodmust be an enemy of his, and he would not have had either the courage orthe business judgment to approach him. 

During his incarceration Cowperwood had been slowly accumulating alittle money through Wingate. He had paid Steger considerable sums fromtime to time, until that worthy finally decided that it would not befair to take any more. 

"If ever you get on your feet, Frank, " he said, "you can remember meif you want to, but I don't think you'll want to. It's been nothingbut lose, lose, lose for you through me. I'll undertake this matterof getting that appeal to the Governor without any charge on my part. Anything I can do for you from now on is free gratis for nothing. "

"Oh, don't talk nonsense, Harper, " replied Cowperwood. "I don't know ofanybody that could have done better with my case. Certainly there isn'tanybody that I would have trusted as much. I don't like lawyers youknow. "

"Yes--well, " said Steger, "they've got nothing on financiers, so we'llcall it even. " And they shook hands. 

So when it was finally decided to pardon Stener, which was in the earlypart of March, 1873--Cowperwood's pardon was necessarily but gingerlyincluded. A delegation, consisting of Strobik, Harmon, and Winpenny, representing, as it was intended to appear, the unanimous wishes of thecouncil and the city administration, and speaking for Mollenhauer andSimpson, who had given their consent, visited the Governor at Harrisburgand made the necessary formal representations which were intended toimpress the public. At the same time, through the agency of Steger, Davison, and Walter Leigh, the appeal in behalf of Cowperwood was made. The Governor, who had had instructions beforehand from sources quitesuperior to this committee, was very solemn about the whole procedure. He would take the matter under advisement. He would look into thehistory of the crimes and the records of the two men. He could make nopromises--he would see. But in ten days, after allowing the petitions togather considerable dust in one of his pigeonholes and doing absolutelynothing toward investigating anything, he issued two separate pardons inwriting. One, as a matter of courtesy, he gave into the hands of Messrs. Strobik, Harmon, and Winpenny, to bear personally to Mr. Stener, as theydesired that he should. The other, on Steger's request, he gave to him. The two committees which had called to receive them then departed; andthe afternoon of that same day saw Strobik, Harmon, and Winpenny arrivein one group, and Steger, Wingate, and Walter Leigh in another, at theprison gate, but at different hours. 

Chapter LVIII

This matter of the pardon of Cowperwood, the exact time of it, was kepta secret from him, though the fact that he was to be pardoned soon, or that he had a very excellent chance of being, had not beendenied--rather had been made much of from time to time. Wingate had kepthim accurately informed as to the progress being made, as had Steger;but when it was actually ascertained, from the Governor's privatesecretary, that a certain day would see the pardon handed over to them, Steger, Wingate, and Walter Leigh had agreed between themselves thatthey would say nothing, taking Cowperwood by surprise. They even went sofar--that is, Steger and Wingate did--as to indicate to Cowperwood thatthere was some hitch to the proceedings and that he might not now getout so soon. Cowperwood was somewhat depressed, but properly stoical;he assured himself that he could wait, and that he would be all rightsometime. He was rather surprised therefore, one Friday afternoon, tosee Wingate, Steger, and Leigh appear at his cell door, accompanied byWarden Desmas. 

The warden was quite pleased to think that Cowperwood should finallybe going out--he admired him so much--and decided to come along tothe cell, to see how he would take his liberation. On the way Desmascommented on the fact that he had always been a model prisoner. "He kepta little garden out there in that yard of his, " he confided to WalterLeigh. "He had violets and pansies and geraniums out there, and they didvery well, too. "

Leigh smiled. It was like Cowperwood to be industrious and tasteful, even in prison. Such a man could not be conquered. "A very remarkableman, that, " he remarked to Desmas. 

"Very, " replied the warden. "You can tell that by looking at him. "

The four looked in through the barred door where he was working, withoutbeing observed, having come up quite silently. 

"Hard at it, Frank?" asked Steger. 

Cowperwood glanced over his shoulder and got up. He had been thinking, as always these days, of what he would do when he did get out. 

"What is this, " he asked--"a political delegation?" He suspectedsomething on the instant. All four smiled cheeringly, and Bonhagunlocked the door for the warden. 

"Nothing very much, Frank, " replied Stager, gleefully, "only you'rea free man. You can gather up your traps and come right along, if youwish. "

Cowperwood surveyed his friends with a level gaze. He had not expectedthis so soon after what had been told him. He was not one to be verymuch interested in the practical joke or the surprise, but this pleasedhim--the sudden realization that he was free. Still, he had anticipatedit so long that the charm of it had been discounted to a certain extent. He had been unhappy here, and he had not. The shame and humiliation ofit, to begin with, had been much. Latterly, as he had become inured toit all, the sense of narrowness and humiliation had worn off. Only theconsciousness of incarceration and delay irked him. Barring his intensedesire for certain things--success and vindication, principally--hefound that he could live in his narrow cell and be fairly comfortable. He had long since become used to the limy smell (used to defeat amore sickening one), and to the numerous rats which he quite regularlytrapped. He had learned to take an interest in chair-caning, havingbecome so proficient that he could seat twenty in a day if he chose, and in working in the little garden in spring, summer, and fall. Everyevening he had studied the sky from his narrow yard, which resultedcuriously in the gift in later years of a great reflecting telescopeto a famous university. He had not looked upon himself as an ordinaryprisoner, by any means--had not felt himself to be sufficiently punishedif a real crime had been involved. From Bonhag he had learned thehistory of many criminals here incarcerated, from murderers up and down, and many had been pointed out to him from time to time. He had beenescorted into the general yard by Bonhag, had seen the general food ofthe place being prepared, had heard of Stener's modified life here, andso forth. It had finally struck him that it was not so bad, only thatthe delay to an individual like himself was wasteful. He could do somuch now if he were out and did not have to fight court proceedings. Courts and jails! He shook his head when he thought of the wasteinvolved in them. 

"That's all right, " he said, looking around him in an uncertain way. "I'm ready. "

He stepped out into the hall, with scarcely a farewell glance, andto Bonhag, who was grieving greatly over the loss of so profitable acustomer, he said: "I wish you would see that some of these things aresent over to my house, Walter. You're welcome to the chair, that clock, this mirror, those pictures--all of these things in fact, except mylinen, razors, and so forth. "

The last little act of beneficence soothed Bonhag's lacerated soula little. They went out into the receiving overseer's office, whereCowperwood laid aside his prison suit and the soft shirt with aconsiderable sense of relief. The clog shoes had long since beenreplaced by a better pair of his own. He put on the derby hat and grayovercoat he had worn the year before, on entering, and expressed himselfas ready. At the entrance of the prison he turned and looked back--onelast glance--at the iron door leading into the garden. 

"You don't regret leaving that, do you, Frank?" asked Steger, curiously. 

"I do not, " replied Cowperwood. "It wasn't that I was thinking of. Itwas just the appearance of it, that's all. "

In another minute they were at the outer gate, where Cowperwood shookthe warden finally by the hand. Then entering a carriage outside thelarge, impressive, Gothic entrance, the gates were locked behind themand they were driven away. 

"Well, there's an end of that, Frank, " observed Steger, gayly; "thatwill never bother you any more. "

"Yes, " replied Cowperwood. "It's worse to see it coming than going. "

"It seems to me we ought to celebrate this occasion in some way, "observed Walter Leigh. "It won't do just to take Frank home. Why don'twe all go down to Green's? That's a good idea. "

"I'd rather not, if you don't mind, " replied Cowperwood, feelingly. "I'll get together with you all, later. Just now I'd like to go home andchange these clothes. "

He was thinking of Aileen and his children and his mother and father andof his whole future. Life was going to broaden out for him considerablyfrom now on, he was sure of it. He had learned so much about taking careof himself in those thirteen months. He was going to see Aileen, andfind how she felt about things in general, and then he was going toresume some such duties as he had had in his own concern, with Wingate &Co. He was going to secure a seat on 'change again, through his friends;and, to escape the effect of the prejudice of those who might notcare to do business with an ex-convict, he was going to act as generaloutside man, and floor man on 'charge, for Wingate & Co. His practicalcontrol of that could not be publicly proved. Now for some importantdevelopment in the market--some slump or something. He would show theworld whether he was a failure or not. 

They let him down in front of his wife's little cottage, and he enteredbriskly in the gathering gloom. 

On September 18, 1873, at twelve-fifteen of a brilliant autumn day, inthe city of Philadelphia, one of the most startling financial tragediesthat the world has ever seen had its commencement. The banking house ofJay Cooke & Co. , the foremost financial organization of America, doingbusiness at Number 114 South Third Street in Philadelphia, and withbranches in New York, Washington, and London, closed its doors. Thosewho know anything about the financial crises of the United States knowwell the significance of the panic which followed. It is spoken of inall histories as the panic of 1873, and the widespread ruin and disasterwhich followed was practically unprecedented in American history. 

At this time Cowperwood, once more a broker--ostensibly a broker'sagent--was doing business in South Third Street, and representingWingate & Co. On 'change. During the six months which had elapsedsince he had emerged from the Eastern Penitentiary he had been quietlyresuming financial, if not social, relations with those who had knownhim before. 

Furthermore, Wingate & Co. Were prospering, and had been for some time, a fact which redounded to his credit with those who knew. Ostensibly helived with his wife in a small house on North Twenty-first Street. Inreality he occupied a bachelor apartment on North Fifteenth Street, towhich Aileen occasionally repaired. The difference between himself andhis wife had now become a matter of common knowledge in the family, and, although there were some faint efforts made to smooth the matter over, no good resulted. The difficulties of the past two years had so inuredhis parents to expect the untoward and exceptional that, astonishing asthis was, it did not shock them so much as it would have years before. They were too much frightened by life to quarrel with its weirddevelopments. They could only hope and pray for the best. 

The Butler family, on the other hand, what there was of it, had becomeindifferent to Aileen's conduct. She was ignored by her brothers andNorah, who now knew all; and her mother was so taken up with religiousdevotions and brooding contemplation of her loss that she was not asactive in her observation of Aileen's life as she might have been. Besides, Cowperwood and his mistress were more circumspect in theirconduct than they had ever been before. Their movements were morecarefully guarded, though the result was the same. Cowperwood wasthinking of the West--of reaching some slight local standing here inPhiladelphia, and then, with perhaps one hundred thousand dollars incapital, removing to the boundless prairies of which he had heardso much--Chicago, Fargo, Duluth, Sioux City, places then heralded inPhiladelphia and the East as coming centers of great life--and takingAileen with him. Although the problem of marriage with her wasinsoluble unless Mrs. Cowperwood should formally agree to give him up--apossibility which was not manifest at this time, neither he nor Aileenwere deterred by that thought. They were going to build a futuretogether--or so they thought, marriage or no marriage. The only thingwhich Cowperwood could see to do was to take Aileen away with him, andto trust to time and absence to modify his wife's point of view. 

This particular panic, which was destined to mark a notable changein Cowperwood's career, was one of those peculiar things whichspring naturally out of the optimism of the American people andthe irrepressible progress of the country. It was the result, tobe accurate, of the prestige and ambition of Jay Cooke, whose earlytraining and subsequent success had all been acquired in Philadelphia, and who had since become the foremost financial figure of his day. It would be useless to attempt to trace here the rise of this man todistinction; it need only be said that by suggestions which he made andmethods which he devised the Union government, in its darkest hours, wasable to raise the money wherewith to continue the struggle againstthe South. After the Civil War this man, who had built up a tremendousbanking business in Philadelphia, with great branches in New York andWashington, was at a loss for some time for some significant thing todo, some constructive work which would be worthy of his genius. The warwas over; the only thing which remained was the finances of peace, andthe greatest things in American financial enterprise were those relatedto the construction of transcontinental railway lines. The UnionPacific, authorized in 1860, was already building; the Northern Pacificand the Southern Pacific were already dreams in various pioneer minds. The great thing was to connect the Atlantic and the Pacific by steel, to bind up the territorially perfected and newly solidified Union, orto enter upon some vast project of mining, of which gold and silver werethe most important. Actually railway-building was the most significantof all, and railroad stocks were far and away the most valuable andimportant on every exchange in America. Here in Philadelphia, New YorkCentral, Rock Island, Wabash, Central Pacific, St. Paul, Hannibal & St. Joseph, Union Pacific, and Ohio & Mississippi were freely traded in. There were men who were getting rich and famous out of handling thesethings; and such towering figures as Cornelius Vanderbilt, Jay Gould, Daniel Drew, James Fish, and others in the East, and Fair, Crocker, W. R. Hearst, and Collis P. Huntington, in the West, were already raisingtheir heads like vast mountains in connection with these enterprises. Among those who dreamed most ardently on this score was Jay Cooke, whowithout the wolfish cunning of a Gould or the practical knowledge of aVanderbilt, was ambitious to thread the northern reaches of America witha band of steel which should be a permanent memorial to his name. 

The project which fascinated him most was one that related to thedevelopment of the territory then lying almost unexplored between theextreme western shore of Lake Superior, where Duluth now stands, and that portion of the Pacific Ocean into which the Columbia Riverempties--the extreme northern one-third of the United States. Here, if arailroad were built, would spring up great cities and prosperous towns. There were, it was suspected, mines of various metals in the region ofthe Rockies which this railroad would traverse, and untold wealth to bereaped from the fertile corn and wheat lands. Products brought only sofar east as Duluth could then be shipped to the Atlantic, via the GreatLakes and the Erie Canal, at a greatly reduced cost. It was a vision ofempire, not unlike the Panama Canal project of the same period, and onethat bade fair apparently to be as useful to humanity. It had arousedthe interest and enthusiasm of Cooke. Because of the fact that thegovernment had made a grant of vast areas of land on either side of theproposed track to the corporation that should seriously undertake itand complete it within a reasonable number of years, and because of theopportunity it gave him of remaining a distinguished public figure, hehad eventually shouldered the project. It was open to many objectionsand criticisms; but the genius which had been sufficient to financethe Civil War was considered sufficient to finance the Northern PacificRailroad. Cooke undertook it with the idea of being able to put themerits of the proposition before the people direct--not through theagency of any great financial corporation--and of selling to thebutcher, the baker, and the candlestick-maker the stock or shares thathe wished to dispose of. 

It was a brilliant chance. His genius had worked out the sale of greatgovernment loans during the Civil War to the people direct in thisfashion. Why not Northern Pacific certificates? For several years heconducted a pyrotechnic campaign, surveying the territory in question, organizing great railway-construction corps, building hundreds of milesof track under most trying conditions, and selling great blocks of hisstock, on which interest of a certain percentage was guaranteed. If ithad not been that he knew little of railroad-building, personally, andthat the project was so vast that it could not well be encompassed byone man, even so great a man it might have proved successful, as undersubsequent management it did. However, hard times, the war betweenFrance and Germany, which tied up European capital for the time beingand made it indifferent to American projects, envy, calumny, a certainpercentage of mismanagement, all conspired to wreck it. On September 18, 1873, at twelve-fifteen noon, Jay Cooke & Co. Failed for approximatelyeight million dollars and the Northern Pacific for all that had beeninvested in it--some fifty million dollars more. 

One can imagine what the result was--the most important financier andthe most distinguished railway enterprise collapsing at one and the sametime. "A financial thunderclap in a clear sky, " said the PhiladelphiaPress. "No one could have been more surprised, " said the PhiladelphiaInquirer, "if snow had fallen amid the sunshine of a summer noon. " Thepublic, which by Cooke's previous tremendous success had been lulledinto believing him invincible, could not understand it. It was beyondbelief. Jay Cooke fail? Impossible, or anything connected with him. Nevertheless, he had failed; and the New York Stock Exchange, afterwitnessing a number of crashes immediately afterward, closed for eightdays. The Lake Shore Railroad failed to pay a call-loan of one millionseven hundred and fifty thousand dollars; and the Union Trust Company, allied to the Vanderbilt interests, closed its doors after withstandinga prolonged run. The National Trust Company of New York had eighthundred thousand dollars of government securities in its vaults, but nota dollar could be borrowed upon them; and it suspended. Suspicion wasuniversal, rumor affected every one. 

In Philadelphia, when the news reached the stock exchange, it came firstin the form of a brief despatch addressed to the stock board from theNew York Stock Exchange--"Rumor on street of failure of Jay Cooke & Co. Answer. " It was not believed, and so not replied to. Nothing wasthought of it. The world of brokers paid scarcely any attention toit. Cowperwood, who had followed the fortunes of Jay Cooke & Co. Withconsiderable suspicion of its president's brilliant theory of vendinghis wares direct to the people--was perhaps the only one who hadsuspicions. He had once written a brilliant criticism to some inquirer, in which he had said that no enterprise of such magnitude as theNorthern Pacific had ever before been entirely dependent upon one house, or rather upon one man, and that he did not like it. "I am not sure thatthe lands through which the road runs are so unparalleled in climate, soil, timber, minerals, etc. , as Mr. Cooke and his friends would haveus believe. Neither do I think that the road can at present, or for manyyears to come, earn the interest which its great issues of stock callfor. There is great danger and risk there. " So when the notice wasposted, he looked at it, wondering what the effect would be if by anychance Jay Cooke & Co. Should fail. 

He was not long in wonder. A second despatch posted on 'change read:"New York, September 18th. Jay Cooke & Co. Have suspended. "

Cowperwood could not believe it. He was beside himself with the thoughtof a great opportunity. In company with every other broker, he hurriedinto Third Street and up to Number 114, where the famous old bankinghouse was located, in order to be sure. Despite his natural dignity andreserve, he did not hesitate to run. If this were true, a great hour hadstruck. There would be wide-spread panic and disaster. There would be aterrific slump in prices of all stocks. He must be in the thick of it. Wingate must be on hand, and his two brothers. He must tell them how tosell and when and what to buy. His great hour had come!

Chapter LIX

The banking house of Jay Cooke & Co. , in spite of its tremendoussignificance as a banking and promoting concern, was a mostunpretentious affair, four stories and a half in height of gray stoneand red brick. It had never been deemed a handsome or comfortablebanking house. Cowperwood had been there often. Wharf-rats as long asthe forearm of a man crept up the culverted channels of Dock Streetto run through the apartments at will. Scores of clerks worked undergas-jets, where light and air were not any too abundant, keeping trackof the firm's vast accounts. It was next door to the Girard NationalBank, where Cowperwood's friend Davison still flourished, and where theprincipal financial business of the street converged. As Cowperwood ranhe met his brother Edward, who was coming to the stock exchange withsome word for him from Wingate. 

"Run and get Wingate and Joe, " he said. "There's something big on thisafternoon. Jay Cooke has failed. "

Edward waited for no other word, but hurried off as directed. 

Cowperwood reached Cooke & Co. Among the earliest. To his utterastonishment, the solid brown-oak doors, with which he was familiar, were shut, and a notice posted on them, which he quickly read, ran:

 September 18, 1873. To the Public--

 We regret to be obliged to announce that, owing to unexpected demands on us, our firm has been obliged to suspend payment. In a few days we will be able to present a statement to our creditors. Until which time we must ask their patient consideration. We believe our assets to be largely in excess of our liabilities. 

 Jay Cooke & Co. 

A magnificent gleam of triumph sprang into Cowperwood's eye. In companywith many others he turned and ran back toward the exchange, while areporter, who had come for information knocked at the massive doorsof the banking house, and was told by a porter, who peered out of adiamond-shaped aperture, that Jay Cooke had gone home for the day andwas not to be seen. 

"Now, " thought Cowperwood, to whom this panic spelled opportunity, notruin, "I'll get my innings. I'll go short of this--of everything. "

Before, when the panic following the Chicago fire had occurred, he hadbeen long--had been compelled to stay long of many things in order toprotect himself. To-day he had nothing to speak of--perhaps a paltryseventy-five thousand dollars which he had managed to scrape together. Thank God! he had only the reputation of Wingate's old house to lose, ifhe lost, which was nothing. With it as a trading agency behind him--withit as an excuse for his presence, his right to buy and sell--he hadeverything to gain. Where many men were thinking of ruin, he wasthinking of success. He would have Wingate and his two brothers underhim to execute his orders exactly. He could pick up a fourth and a fifthman if necessary. He would give them orders to sell--everything--ten, fifteen, twenty, thirty points off, if necessary, in order to trap theunwary, depress the market, frighten the fearsome who would think he wastoo daring; and then he would buy, buy, buy, below these figures as muchas possible, in order to cover his sales and reap a profit. 

His instinct told him how widespread and enduring this panic would be. The Northern Pacific was a hundred-million-dollar venture. It involvedthe savings of hundreds of thousands of people--small bankers, tradesmen, preachers, lawyers, doctors, widows, institutions all overthe land, and all resting on the faith and security of Jay Cooke. Once, not unlike the Chicago fire map, Cowperwood had seen a grand prospectusand map of the location of the Northern Pacific land-grant which Cookehad controlled, showing a vast stretch or belt of territory extendingfrom Duluth--"The Zenith City of the Unsalted Seas, " as Proctor Knott, speaking in the House of Representatives, had sarcastically calledit--through the Rockies and the headwaters of the Missouri to thePacific Ocean. He had seen how Cooke had ostensibly managed to getcontrol of this government grant, containing millions upon millions ofacres and extending fourteen hundred miles in length; but it was only avision of empire. There might be silver and gold and copper mines there. The land was usable--would some day be usable. But what of it now? Itwould do to fire the imaginations of fools with--nothing more. It wasinaccessible, and would remain so for years to come. No doubt thousandshad subscribed to build this road; but, too, thousands would now failif it had failed. Now the crash had come. The grief and the rage of thepublic would be intense. For days and days and weeks and months, normalconfidence and courage would be gone. This was his hour. This was hisgreat moment. Like a wolf prowling under glittering, bitter stars inthe night, he was looking down into the humble folds of simple men andseeing what their ignorance and their unsophistication would cost them. 

He hurried back to the exchange, the very same room in which only twoyears before he had fought his losing fight, and, finding that hispartner and his brother had not yet come, began to sell everything insight. Pandemonium had broken loose. Boys and men were fairly tearing infrom all sections with orders from panic-struck brokers to sell, sell, sell, and later with orders to buy; the various trading-posts werereeling, swirling masses of brokers and their agents. Outside in thestreet in front of Jay Cooke & Co. , Clark & Co. , the Girard NationalBank, and other institutions, immense crowds were beginning to form. They were hurrying here to learn the trouble, to withdraw theirdeposits, to protect their interests generally. A policeman arrested aboy for calling out the failure of Jay Cooke & Co. , but nevertheless thenews of the great disaster was spreading like wild-fire. 

Among these panic-struck men Cowperwood was perfectly calm, deadly cold, the same Cowperwood who had pegged solemnly at his ten chairs each dayin prison, who had baited his traps for rats, and worked in the littlegarden allotted him in utter silence and loneliness. Now he was vigorousand energetic. He had been just sufficiently about this exchange flooronce more to have made his personality impressive and distinguished. He forced his way into the center of swirling crowds of men alreadyshouting themselves hoarse, offering whatever was being offered inquantities which were astonishing, and at prices which allured the fewwho were anxious to make money out of the tumbling prices to buy. New York Central had been standing at 104 7/8 when the failure wasannounced; Rhode Island at 108 7/8; Western Union at 92 1/2; Wabash at70 1/4; Panama at 117 3/8; Central Pacific at 99 5/8; St. Paul at 51;Hannibal & St. Joseph at 48; Northwestern at 63; Union Pacific at 263/4; Ohio and Mississippi at 38 3/4. Cowperwood's house had scarcely anyof the stocks on hand. They were not carrying them for any customers, and yet he sold, sold, sold, to whoever would take, at prices which hefelt sure would inspire them. 

"Five thousand of New York Central at ninety-nine, ninety-eight, ninety-seven, ninety-six, ninety-five, ninety-four, ninety-three, ninety-two, ninety-one, ninety, eighty-nine, " you might have heard himcall; and when his sales were not sufficiently brisk he would turn tosomething else--Rock Island, Panama, Central Pacific, Western Union, Northwestern, Union Pacific. He saw his brother and Wingate hurrying in, and stopped in his work long enough to instruct them. "Sell everythingyou can, " he cautioned them quietly, "at fifteen points off if you haveto--no lower than that now--and buy all you can below it. Ed, you seeif you cannot buy up some local street-railways at fifteen off. Joe, youstay near me and buy when I tell you. "

The secretary of the board appeared on his little platform. 

"E. W. Clark & Company, " he announced, at one-thirty, "have just closedtheir doors. "

"Tighe & Company, " he called at one-forty-five, "announce that they arecompelled to suspend. "

"The First National Bank of Philadelphia, " he called, at two o'clock, "begs to state that it cannot at present meet its obligations. "

After each announcement, always, as in the past, when the gong hadcompelled silence, the crowd broke into an ominous "Aw, aw, aw. "

"Tighe & Company, " thought Cowperwood, for a single second, when heheard it. "There's an end of him. " And then he returned to his task. 

When the time for closing came, his coat torn, his collar twistedloose, his necktie ripped, his hat lost, he emerged sane, quiet, steady-mannered. 

"Well, Ed, " he inquired, meeting his brother, "how'd you make out?" Thelatter was equally torn, scratched, exhausted. 

"Christ, " he replied, tugging at his sleeves, "I never saw such a placeas this. They almost tore my clothes off. "

"Buy any local street-railways?"

"About five thousand shares. "

"We'd better go down to Green's, " Frank observed, referring to the lobbyof the principal hotel. "We're not through yet. There'll be more tradingthere. "

He led the way to find Wingate and his brother Joe, and together theywere off, figuring up some of the larger phases of their purchases andsales as they went. 

And, as he predicted, the excitement did not end with the coming of thenight. The crowd lingered in front of Jay Cooke & Co. 's on ThirdStreet and in front of other institutions, waiting apparently for somedevelopment which would be favorable to them. For the initiated thecenter of debate and agitation was Green's Hotel, where on the eveningof the eighteenth the lobby and corridors were crowded with bankers, brokers, and speculators. The stock exchange had practically adjournedto that hotel en masse. What of the morrow? Who would be the next tofail? From whence would money be forthcoming? These were the topics fromeach mind and upon each tongue. From New York was coming momentarilymore news of disaster. Over there banks and trust companies were fallinglike trees in a hurricane. Cowperwood in his perambulations, seeing whathe could see and hearing what he could hear, reaching understandingswhich were against the rules of the exchange, but which werenevertheless in accord with what every other person was doing, sawabout him men known to him as agents of Mollenhauer and Simpson, andcongratulated himself that he would have something to collect from thembefore the week was over. He might not own a street-railway, but hewould have the means to. He learned from hearsay, and information whichhad been received from New York and elsewhere, that things were as badas they could be, and that there was no hope for those who expected aspeedy return of normal conditions. No thought of retiring for the nightentered until the last man was gone. It was then practically morning. 

The next day was Friday, and suggested many ominous things. Would it beanother Black Friday? Cowperwood was at his office before the streetwas fairly awake. He figured out his program for the day to a nicety, feeling strangely different from the way he had felt two years beforewhen the conditions were not dissimilar. Yesterday, in spite of thesudden onslaught, he had made one hundred and fifty thousand dollars, and he expected to make as much, if not more, to-day. There was notelling what he could make, he thought, if he could only keep his smallorganization in perfect trim and get his assistants to follow his ordersexactly. Ruin for others began early with the suspension of Fisk &Hatch, Jay Cooke's faithful lieutenants during the Civil War. They hadcalls upon them for one million five hundred thousand dollars in thefirst fifteen minutes after opening the doors, and at once closed themagain, the failure being ascribed to Collis P. Huntington's CentralPacific Railroad and the Chesapeake & Ohio. There was a long-continuedrun on the Fidelity Trust Company. News of these facts, and of failuresin New York posted on 'change, strengthened the cause Cowperwood was somuch interested in; for he was selling as high as he could and buyingas low as he could on a constantly sinking scale. By twelve o'clock hefigured with his assistants that he had cleared one hundred thousanddollars; and by three o'clock he had two hundred thousand dollars more. That afternoon between three and seven he spent adjusting his trades, and between seven and one in the morning, without anything to eat, ingathering as much additional information as he could and laying hisplans for the future. Saturday morning came, and he repeated hisperformance of the day before, following it up with adjustments onSunday and heavy trading on Monday. By Monday afternoon at three o'clockhe figured that, all losses and uncertainties to one side, he was oncemore a millionaire, and that now his future lay clear and straightbefore him. 

As he sat at his desk late that afternoon in his office looking outinto Third Street, where a hurrying of brokers, messengers, andanxious depositors still maintained, he had the feeling that so far asPhiladelphia and the life here was concerned, his day and its day withhim was over. He did not care anything about the brokerage business hereany more or anywhere. Failures such as this, and disasters such as theChicago fire, that had overtaken him two years before, had cured him ofall love of the stock exchange and all feeling for Philadelphia. He hadbeen very unhappy here in spite of all his previous happiness; andhis experience as a convict had made, him, he could see quite plainly, unacceptable to the element with whom he had once hoped to associate. There was nothing else to do, now that he had reestablished himself asa Philadelphia business man and been pardoned for an offense whichhe hoped to make people believe he had never committed, but to leavePhiladelphia to seek a new world. 

"If I get out of this safely, " he said to himself, "this is the end. Iam going West, and going into some other line of business. " He thoughtof street-railways, land speculation, some great manufacturing projectof some kind, even mining, on a legitimate basis. 

"I have had my lesson, " he said to himself, finally getting up andpreparing to leave. "I am as rich as I was, and only a little older. They caught me once, but they will not catch me again. " He talked toWingate about following up the campaign on the lines in which he hadstarted, and he himself intended to follow it up with great energy; butall the while his mind was running with this one rich thought: "I am amillionaire. I am a free man. I am only thirty-six, and my future is allbefore me. "

It was with this thought that he went to visit Aileen, and to plan forthe future. 

It was only three months later that a train, speeding through themountains of Pennsylvania and over the plains of Ohio and Indiana, boreto Chicago and the West the young financial aspirant who, in spite ofyouth and wealth and a notable vigor of body, was a solemn, conservativespeculator as to what his future might be. The West, as he had carefullycalculated before leaving, held much. He had studied the receipts of theNew York Clearing House recently and the disposition of bank-balancesand the shipment of gold, and had seen that vast quantities of thelatter metal were going to Chicago. He understood finance accurately. The meaning of gold shipments was clear. Where money was going tradewas--a thriving, developing life. He wished to see clearly for himselfwhat this world had to offer. 

Two years later, following the meteoric appearance of a young speculatorin Duluth, and after Chicago had seen the tentative opening of agrain and commission company labeled Frank A. Cowperwood & Co. , whichostensibly dealt in the great wheat crops of the West, a quiet divorcewas granted Mrs. Frank A. Cowperwood in Philadelphia, because apparentlyshe wished it. Time had not seemingly dealt badly with her. Herfinancial affairs, once so bad, were now apparently all straightenedout, and she occupied in West Philadelphia, near one of her sisters, anew and interesting home which was fitted with all the comforts of anexcellent middle-class residence. She was now quite religious once more. The two children, Frank and Lillian, were in private schools, returningevenings to their mother. "Wash" Sims was once more the negro generalfactotum. Frequent visitors on Sundays were Mr. And Mrs. HenryWorthington Cowperwood, no longer distressed financially, but subduedand wearied, the wind completely gone from their once much-favoredsails. Cowperwood, senior, had sufficient money wherewith to sustainhimself, and that without slaving as a petty clerk, but his social joyin life was gone. He was old, disappointed, sad. He could feel that withhis quondam honor and financial glory, he was the same--and he was not. His courage and his dreams were gone, and he awaited death. 

Here, too, came Anna Adelaide Cowperwood on occasion, a clerk in thecity water office, who speculated much as to the strange vicissitudes oflife. She had great interest in her brother, who seemed destined by fateto play a conspicuous part in the world; but she could not understandhim. Seeing that all those who were near to him in any way seemed torise or fall with his prosperity, she did not understand how justice andmorals were arranged in this world. There seemed to be certain generalprinciples--or people assumed there were--but apparently there wereexceptions. Assuredly her brother abided by no known rule, and yethe seemed to be doing fairly well once more. What did this mean? Mrs. Cowperwood, his former wife, condemned his actions, and yet accepted ofhis prosperity as her due. What were the ethics of that?

Cowperwood's every action was known to Aileen Butler, his presentwhereabouts and prospects. Not long after his wife's divorce, and aftermany trips to and from this new world in which he was now living, thesetwo left Philadelphia together one afternoon in the winter. Aileenexplained to her mother, who was willing to go and live with Norah, thatshe had fallen in love with the former banker and wished to marryhim. The old lady, gathering only a garbled version of it at first, consented. 

Thus ended forever for Aileen this long-continued relationship with thisolder world. Chicago was before her--a much more distinguished career, Frank told her, than ever they could have had in Philadelphia. 

"Isn't it nice to be finally going?" she commented. 

"It is advantageous, anyhow, " he said. 

Concerning Mycteroperca Bonaci

There is a certain fish, the scientific name of which is MycteropercaBonaci, its common name Black Grouper, which is of considerable valueas an afterthought in this connection, and which deserves to be betterknown. It is a healthy creature, growing quite regularly to a weight oftwo hundred and fifty pounds, and lives a comfortable, lengthy existencebecause of its very remarkable ability to adapt itself to conditions. That very subtle thing which we call the creative power, and whichwe endow with the spirit of the beatitudes, is supposed to build thismortal life in such fashion that only honesty and virtue shall prevail. Witness, then, the significant manner in which it has fashionedthe black grouper. One might go far afield and gather less forcefulindictments--the horrific spider spinning his trap for the unthinkingfly; the lovely Drosera (Sundew) using its crimson calyx for asmothering-pit in which to seal and devour the victim of its beauty;the rainbow-colored jellyfish that spreads its prismed tentacles likestreamers of great beauty, only to sting and torture all that fallswithin their radiant folds. Man himself is busy digging the pit andfashioning the snare, but he will not believe it. His feet are in thetrap of circumstance; his eyes are on an illusion. 

Mycteroperca moving in its dark world of green waters is as finean illustration of the constructive genius of nature, which isnot beatific, as any which the mind of man may discover. Its greatsuperiority lies in an almost unbelievable power of simulation, whichrelates solely to the pigmentation of its skin. In electrical mechanicswe pride ourselves on our ability to make over one brilliant scene intoanother in the twinkling of an eye, and flash before the gaze of anonlooker picture after picture, which appear and disappear as we look. The directive control of Mycteroperca over its appearance is much moresignificant. You cannot look at it long without feeling that you arewitnessing something spectral and unnatural, so brilliant is its powerto deceive. From being black it can become instantly white; from beingan earth-colored brown it can fade into a delightful water-coloredgreen. Its markings change as the clouds of the sky. One marvels at thevariety and subtlety of its power. 

Lying at the bottom of a bay, it can simulate the mud by which it issurrounded. Hidden in the folds of glorious leaves, it is of the samemarkings. Lurking in a flaw of light, it is like the light itselfshining dimly in water. Its power to elude or strike unseen is of thegreatest. 

What would you say was the intention of the overruling, intelligent, constructive force which gives to Mycteroperca this ability? To fit itto be truthful? To permit it to present an unvarying appearance whichall honest life-seeking fish may know? Or would you say that subtlety, chicanery, trickery, were here at work? An implement of illusion onemight readily suspect it to be, a living lie, a creature whose businessit is to appear what it is not, to simulate that with which it hasnothing in common, to get its living by great subtlety, the power of itsenemies to forefend against which is little. The indictment is fair. 

Would you say, in the face of this, that a beatific, beneficentcreative, overruling power never wills that which is either tricky ordeceptive? Or would you say that this material seeming in which we dwellis itself an illusion? If not, whence then the Ten Commandments and theillusion of justice? Why were the Beatitudes dreamed of and how do theyavail?

The Magic Crystal

If you had been a mystic or a soothsayer or a member of that mysteriousworld which divines by incantations, dreams, the mystic bowl, or thecrystal sphere, you might have looked into their mysterious depths atthis time and foreseen a world of happenings which concerned thesetwo, who were now apparently so fortunately placed. In the fumes ofthe witches' pot, or the depths of the radiant crystal, might have beenrevealed cities, cities, cities; a world of mansions, carriages, jewels, beauty; a vast metropolis outraged by the power of one man; a greatstate seething with indignation over a force it could not control; vasthalls of priceless pictures; a palace unrivaled for its magnificence; awhole world reading with wonder, at times, of a given name. And sorrow, sorrow, sorrow. 

The three witches that hailed Macbeth upon the blasted heath might inturn have called to Cowperwood, "Hail to you, Frank Cowperwood, masterof a great railway system! Hail to you, Frank Cowperwood, builder ofa priceless mansion! Hail to you, Frank Cowperwood, patron of arts andpossessor of endless riches! You shall be famed hereafter. " But like theWeird Sisters, they would have lied, for in the glory was also the ashesof Dead Sea fruit--an understanding that could neither be inflamed bydesire nor satisfied by luxury; a heart that was long since wearied byexperience; a soul that was as bereft of illusion as a windless moon. And to Aileen, as to Macduff, they might have spoken a more patheticpromise, one that concerned hope and failure. To have and not to have!All the seeming, and yet the sorrow of not having! Brilliant societythat shone in a mirage, yet locked its doors; love that eluded as awill-o'-the-wisp and died in the dark. "Hail to you, Frank Cowperwood, master and no master, prince of a world of dreams whose reality wasdisillusion!" So might the witches have called, the bowl have dancedwith figures, the fumes with vision, and it would have been true. Whatwise man might not read from such a beginning, such an end?