The Financier......................................................................................................................................................1

Theodore Dreiser.....................................................................................................................................1

The Philadelphia into which Frank Algernon Cowperwood was born was a city of two hundred and fifty

thousand and more. It was set with handsome parks, notable buildings, and crowded with historic memories.

Many of the things that we and he knew later were not then in existencethe telegraph, telephone, express

company, ocean steamer, city delivery of mails. There were no postagestamps or registered letters. The

street car had not arrived. In its place were hosts of omnibuses, and for longer travel the slowly developing

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 very sensible, vigorous eye on the world, Mr. Henry Worthington Cowperwood,

because of the death of the bank's president and the consequent moving ahead of the other officers, fell heir to

the place vacated by the promoted teller, at the, to him, munificent salary of thirtyfive hundred dollars a

year. At once he decided, as he told his wife joyously, to remove his family from 21 Buttonwood Street to

124 New Market Street, a much better neighborhood, where there was a nice brick house of three stories in

height as opposed to their present twostoried domicile. There was the probability that some day they would

come into something even better, but for the present this was sufficient. He was exceedingly grateful.

Henry Worthington Cowperwood was a man who believed only what he saw and was content to be what he

wasa banker, or a prospective one. He was at this time a significant figuretall, lean, inquisitorial,

clerklywith nice, smooth, closelycropped side whiskers coming to almost the lower lobes of his ears. His

upper lip was smooth and curiously long, and he had a long, straight nose and a chin that tended to be

pointed. His eyebrows were bushy, emphasizing vague, grayishgreen eyes, and his hair was short and

smooth and nicely parted. He wore a frockcoat always it was quite the thing in financial circles in those

daysand a high hat. And he kept his hands and nails immaculately clean. His manner might have been

Being ambitious to get ahead socially and financially, he was very careful of whom or with whom he talked.

He was as much afraid of expressing a rabid or unpopular political or social opinion as he was of being seen

with an evil character, though he had really no opinion of great political significance to express. He was

neither anti nor proslavery, though the air was stormy with abolition sentiment and its opposition. He

believed sincerely that vast fortunes were to be made out of railroads if one only had the capital and that

curious thing, a magnetic personalitythe ability to win the confidence of others. He was sure that Andrew

Jackson was all wrong in his opposition to Nicholas Biddle 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 wildcat money which was

floating about and which was constantly coming to his bankdiscounted, of course, and handed out again to

anxious borrowers at a profit. His bank was the Third National of Philadelphia, located in that center of all

Philadelphia and indeed, at that time, of practically all national financeThird Streetand its owners

conducted a brokerage business as a side line. There was a perfect plague of State banks, great and small, in

those days, issuing notes practically without regulation upon insecure and unknown assets and failing and

suspending with astonishing rapidity; and a knowledge of all these was an important requirement of Mr.

Cowperwood's position. As a result, he had become the soul of caution. Unfortunately, for him, he lacked in a

great measure the two things that are necessary for distinction in any fieldmagnetism and vision. He was

not destined to be a great financier, though he was marked out to be a moderately successful one.

Mrs. Cowperwood was of a religious temperamenta small woman, with lightbrown hair and clear, brown

eyes, who had been very attractive in her day, but had become rather prim and matteroffact and inclined to

take very seriously the maternal care of her three sons and one daughter. The former, captained by Frank, the

eldest, were a source of considerable annoyance to her, for they were forever making expeditions to different

parts of the city, getting in with bad boys, probably, and seeing and hearing things they should neither see nor

Frank Cowperwood, even at ten, was a naturalborn leader. At the day school he attended, and later at the

Central High School, he was looked upon as one whose common sense could unquestionably be trusted in all

cases. He was a sturdy youth, courageous and defiant. From the very start of his life, he wanted to know

about economics and politics. He cared nothing for books. He was a clean, stalky, shapely boy, with a bright,

cleancut, incisive face; large, clear, gray eyes; a wide forehead; short, bristly, darkbrown hair. He had an

incisive, quickmotioned, selfsufficient manner, and was forever asking questions with a keen desire for an

intelligent reply. He never had an ache or pain, ate his food with gusto, and ruled his brothers with a rod of

iron. "Come on, Joe!" "Hurry, Ed!" These commands were issued in no rough but always a sure way, and Joe

and Ed came. They looked up to Frank from the first as a master, and what he had to say was listened to

He was forever pondering, ponderingone fact astonishing him quite as much as anotherfor he could not

figure out how this thing he had come intothis lifewas organized. How did all these people get into the

world? What were they doing here? Who started things, anyhow? His mother told him the story of Adam and

Eve, but he didn't believe it. There was a fishmarket not so very far from his home, and there, on his way to

see his father at the bank, or conducting his brothers on afterschool expeditions, he liked to look at a certain

tank in front of one store where were kept odd specimens of sealife brought in by the Delaware Bay

fishermen. He saw once there a seahorsejust a queer little seaanimal that looked somewhat like a

horseand another time he saw an electric eel which Benjamin Franklin's discovery had explained. One day

he saw a squid and a lobster put in the tank, and in connection with them was witness to a tragedy which

stayed with him all his life and cleared things up considerably intellectually. The lobster, it appeared from the

talk of the idle bystanders, was offered no food, as the squid was considered his rightful prey. He lay at the

bottom of the clear glass tank on the yellow sand, apparently seeing nothingyou could not tell in which

way his beady, black buttons of eyes were lookingbut apparently they were never off the body of the

squid. The latter, pale and waxy in texture, looking very much like pork fat or jade, moved about in torpedo

fashion; but his movements were apparently never out of the eyes of his enemy, for by degrees small portions

of his body began to disappear, snapped off by the relentless claws of his pursuer. The lobster would leap like

a catapult to where the squid was apparently idly dreaming, and the squid, very alert, would dart away,

shooting out at the same time a cloud of ink, behind which it would disappear. It was not always completely

successful, however. Small portions of its body or its tail were frequently left in the claws of the monster

One morning he stood in front of the tank, his nose almost pressed to the glass. Only a portion of the squid

remained, and his inkbag was emptier than ever. In the corner of the tank sat the lobster, poised apparently

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 by the lobster, and the lobster would eat him. He looked again at the

greenishcopperish engine of destruction in the corner and wondered when this would be. Tonight, maybe.

He returned that night, and lo! the expected had happened. There was a little crowd around the tank. The

lobster was in the corner. Before him was the squid cut in two and partially devoured.

"He got him at last," observed one bystander. "I was standing right here an 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 calculated

on his doing that. He's been figuring on his movements for a long time now. He got him today."

Frank only stared. Too bad he had missed this. The least touch of sorrow for the squid came to him as he

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

"The squid couldn't kill the lobsterhe had no weapon. The lobster could kill the squidhe was heavily

armed. There was nothing for the squid to feed on; the lobster had the squid as prey. What was the result to

be? What else could it be? He didn't have a chance," he concluded finally, as he trotted on homeward.

The incident made a great impression on him. It answered in a rough way that riddle which had been

annoying him so much in the past: "How is life organized?" Things lived on each otherthat was it.

Lobsters lived on 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 other men? Wild animals lived on men. And there were Indians

and cannibals. And some men were killed by storms and accidents. He wasn't so sure about men living on

men; but men did kill each other. How about wars and street fights and mobs? He had seen a mob once. It

attacked the Public Ledger building as he was coming home from school. His father had explained why. It

was about the slaves. That was it! Sure, men lived on men. Look at the slaves. They were men. That's what

"Why, that lobster got that squid I was telling you and pa about the other 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 went out in the back yard, where there was a

hydrant and a post with a little table on it, and on that a shining tinpan and a bucket of water. Here he

But for days and weeks Frank thought of this and of the life he was tossed into, for he was already pondering

on what he should be in this world, and how he should get along. From seeing his father count money, he was

sure that he would like banking; and Third Street, where his father's office was, seemed to him the cleanest,

The growth of young Frank Algernon Cowperwood was through years of what might be called a comfortable

and happy family existence. Buttonwood Street, where he spent the first ten years of his life, was a lovely

place for a boy to live. It contained mostly small two and threestory red brick houses, with small white

marble steps leading up to the front door, and thin, white marble trimmings outlining the front door and

windows. There were trees in the streetplenty of them. The road pavement was of big, round cobblestones,

made bright and clean by the rains; and the sidewalks were of red brick, and always damp and cool. In the

rear was a yard, with trees and grass and sometimes flowers, for the lots were almost always one hundred feet

deep, and the housefronts, crowding close to the pavement in front, left a comfortable space in the rear.

The Cowperwoods, father and mother, were not so lean and narrow that they could not enter into the natural

tendency to be happy and joyous with their children; and so this family, which increased at the rate of a child

every two or three years after Frank's birth until there were four children, was quite an interesting affair when

he was ten and they were ready to move into the New Market Street home. Henry Worthington

Cowperwood's connections were increased as his position grew more responsible, and gradually he was

becoming quite a personage. He already knew a number of the more prosperous merchants who dealt with his

bank, and because as a clerk his duties necessitated his calling at other bankinghouses, he had come to be

familiar with and favorably known in the Bank of the United States, the Drexels, the Edwards, and others.

The brokers knew him as representing a very sound organization, and while he was not considered brilliant

In this progress of his father young Cowperwood definitely shared. He was quite often allowed to come to the

bank on Saturdays, when he would watch with great interest the deft exchange of bills at the brokerage end of

the business. He wanted to know where all the types of money came from, why discounts were demanded

and received, what the men did with all the money they received. His father, pleased at his interest, was glad

to explain so that even at this early agefrom ten to fifteenthe boy gained a wide knowledge of the

condition of the country financiallywhat a State bank was and what a national one; what brokers did; what

stocks were, and why they fluctuated in value. He began to see clearly what was meant by money as a

medium of exchange, and how all values were calculated according to one primary value, that of gold. He

was a financier by instinct, and all the knowledge that pertained to that great art was as natural to him as the

emotions and subtleties of life are to a poet. This medium of exchange, gold, interested him intensely. When

his father explained to him how it was mined, he dreamed that he owned a gold mine and waked to wish that

he did. He was likewise curious about stocks and bonds and he learned that some stocks and bonds were not

worth the paper they were written on, and that others were worth much more than their face value indicated.

"There, my son," said his father to him one day, "you won't often see a bundle of those around this

neighborhood." He referred to a series of shares in the British East India Company, deposited as collateral at

twothirds of their face value for a loan of one hundred thousand dollars. A Philadelphia magnate had

hypothecated them for the use of the ready cash. Young Cowperwood looked at them curiously. "They don't

Frank reexamined them. "The British East India Company," he read. "Ten poundsthat's pretty near fifty

"Fortyeight, thirtyfive," commented his father, dryly. "Well, if we had a bundle of those we wouldn't need

to work very hard. You'll notice there are scarcely any pinmarks on them. They aren't sent around very

Young Cowperwood gave them back after a time, but not without a keen sense of the vast ramifications of

At home also he listened to considerable talk of financial investment and adventure. He heard, for one thing,

of a curious character by the name of Steemberger, a great beef speculator from Virginia, who was attracted

to Philadelphia in those days by the hope of large and easy credits. Steemberger, so his father said, was close

to Nicholas Biddle, Lardner, and others of the United States Bank, or at least friendly with them, and seemed

to be able to obtain from that organization nearly all that he asked for. His operations in the purchase of cattle

in Virginia, Ohio, and other States were vast, amounting, in fact, to an entire monopoly of the business of

supplying beef to Eastern cities. He was a big man, enormous, with a face, his father said, something like that

of a pig; and he wore a high beaver hat and a long frockcoat which hung loosely about his big chest and

stomach. He had managed to force the price of beef up to thirty cents a pound, causing all the retailers and

consumers to rebel, and this was what made him so conspicuous. He used to come to the brokerage end of the

elder Cowperwood's bank, with as much as one hundred thousand or two hundred thousand dollars, in twelve

months postnotes of the United States Bank in denominations of one thousand, five thousand, and ten

thousand dollars. These he would cash at from ten to twelve per cent. under their face value, having

previously given the United States Bank his own note at four months for the entire amount. He would take his

pay from the Third National brokerage counter in packages of Virginia, Ohio, and western Pennsylvania

banknotes at par, because he made his disbursements principally in those States. The Third National would

in the first place realize a profit of from four to five per cent. on the original transaction; and as it took the

There was another man his father talked aboutone Francis J. Grund, a famous newspaper correspondent

and lobbyist at Washington, who possessed the faculty of unearthing secrets of every kind, especially those

relating to financial legislation. The secrets of the President and the Cabinet, as well as of the Senate and the

House of Representatives, seemed to be open to him. Grund had been about, years before, purchasing through

one or two brokers large amounts of the various kinds of Texas debt certificates and bonds. The Republic of

Texas, in its struggle for independence from Mexico, had issued bonds and certificates in great variety,

amounting in value to ten or fifteen million dollars. Later, in connection with the scheme to make Texas a

State of the Union, a bill was passed providing a contribution on the part of the United States of five million

dollars, to be applied to the extinguishment of this old debt. 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, while other portions were

to be scaled down, and there was to be a false or prearranged failure to pass the bill at one session in order

to frighten off the outsiders who might have heard and begun to buy the old certificates for profit. He

acquainted the Third National Bank with this fact, and of course the information came to Cowperwood as

teller. He told his wife about it, and so his son, in this roundabout way, heard it, and his clear, big eyes

glistened. He wondered why his father did not take advantage of the situation and buy some Texas

certificates for himself. Grund, so his father said, and possibly three or four others, had made over a hundred

thousand dollars apiece. It wasn't exactly legitimate, he seemed to think, and yet it was, too. Why shouldn't

such inside information be rewarded? Somehow, Frank realized that his father was too honest, too cautious,

but when he grew up, he told himself, he was going to be a broker, or a financier, or a banker, and do some of

Just at this time there came to the Cowperwoods an uncle who had not previously appeared in the life of the

family. He was a brother of Mrs. Cowperwood'sSeneca Davis by namesolid, unctuous, five feet ten in

height, with a big, round body, a round, smooth head rather bald, a clear, ruddy complexion, blue eyes, and

what little hair he had of a sandy hue. He was exceedingly well dressed according to standards prevailing in

those days, indulging in flowered waistcoats, long, lightcolored frockcoats, and the invariable (for a fairly

prosperous man) high hat. Frank was fascinated by him at once. He had been a planter in Cuba and still

owned a big ranch there and could tell him tales of Cuban liferebellions, ambuscades, handtohand

fighting with machetes on his own plantation, and things of that sort. He brought with him a collection of

Indian curies, to say nothing of an independent fortune and several slavesone, named Manuel, a tall,

rawboned black, was his constant attendant, a bodyservant, as it were. He shipped raw sugar from his

plantation in boatloads to the Southwark wharves in Philadelphia. Frank liked him because he took life in a

hearty, jovial way, rather rough and offhand for this somewhat quiet and reserved household.

"Why, Nancy Arabella," he said to Mrs Cowperwood on arriving one Sunday afternoon, and throwing the

household into joyous astonishment at his unexpected and unheralded appearance, "you haven't grown an

inch! I thought when you married old brother Hy here that you were going to fatten up like your brother. But

look at you! I swear to Heaven you don'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 seen their mother so familiarly handled.

Henry Cowperwood was exceedingly interested in and pleased at the arrival 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 puttyfaced Philadelphians," he continued, "They ought to come down to my ranch in

Cuba and get tanned up. That would take 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 place here." And he looked at the main room of

Measuring twenty by twentyfour and finished in imitation cherry, with a set of new Sheraton parlor

furniture it presented a quaintly harmonious aspect. Since Henry had become teller the family had acquired a

pianoa decided luxury in those days brought from Europe; and it was intended that Anna Adelaide,

when she was old enough, should learn to play. There were a few uncommon ornaments in the rooma gas

chandelier for one thing, a glass bowl with goldfish in it, some rare and highly polished shells, and a marble

Cupid bearing a basket of flowers. It was summer time, the windows were open, and the trees outside, with

their widely extended green branches, were pleasantly visible shading the brick sidewalk. Uncle Seneca

"Well, this is pleasant enough," he observed, noting a large elm and seeing that the yard was partially paved

with brick and enclosed within brick walls, up the sides of which vines were climbing. "Where's your

hammock? Don't you string a hammock here in summer? Down on my veranda at San Pedro I have six or

"We hadn't thought of putting one up because of the neighbors, but it would be nice," agreed Mrs.

"I have two or three in my trunks over at the hotel. My niggers make 'em down there. I'll send Manuel over

He plucked at the vines, tweaked Edward's ear, told Joseph, the second boy, he would bring him an Indian

"This is the lad that interests me," he said, after a time, laying a hand on the shoulder of Frank. "What did you

"Well, you might have named him after me. There's something to this boy. How would you like to come

"Aha! What's bred in the bone, eh? Get something of that from your father, eh? Well, that's a good trait. And

spoken like a man, too! We'll hear more about that later. Nancy, you're breeding a financier here, I think. He

He looked at Frank carefully now. There was real force in that sturdy young bodyno doubt of it. Those

large, clear gray eyes were full of intelligence. They indicated much and revealed nothing.

"A smart boy!" he said to Henry, his brotherinlaw. "I like his getup. You have a bright family."

Henry Cowperwood smiled dryly. This man, if he liked Frank, might do much for the boy. He might

Uncle Seneca became a frequent visitor to the househe and his negro bodyguard, Manuel, who spoke

both English and Spanish, much to the astonishment of the children; and he took an increasing interest in

"When that boy gets old enough to find out what he wants to do, I think I'll help him to do it," he observed to

his sister one day; and she told him 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 was compelled to pursue. Grammar was an abomination.

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

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

"Well, you can't leave school much before sixteen. You'll do better if you stay until seventeen or eighteen. It

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

"Well, when the time comes, if everything is all right and you've behaved yourself and you still want to, I'll

help you get a start in business. If I were you and were going to be a banker, I'd first spend a year or so in

some good grain and commission house. There's good training 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

He gave the boy a tendollar gold piece with which to start a bankaccount. And, not strange to say, he liked

the whole Cowperwood household much better for this dynamic, selfsufficient, sterling youth who was an

It was in his thirteenth year that young Cowperwood entered into his first business venture. Walking along

Front Street one day, a street of importing and wholesale establishments, he saw an auctioneer's flag hanging

out before a wholesale grocery and from the interior came the auctioneer's voice: "What am I bid for this

exceptional lot of Java coffee, twentytwo bags all told, which is now selling in the market for seven dollars

and thirtytwo cents a bag wholesale? What am I bid? What am I bid? The whole lot must go as one. What

"Eighteen dollars," suggested a trader standing near the door, more to start the bidding than anything else.

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

"I'm bid seventyfive! I'm bid seventyfive!" called the auctioneer, loudly. "Any other offers? Going once at

seventyfive; am I offered eighty? Going twice at seventyfive, and"he paused, one hand raised

dramatically. Then he brought it down with a slap in the palm of the other"sold to Mr. Silas Gregory for

seventyfive. Make a note of that, Jerry," he called to his redhaired, frecklefaced clerk beside him. Then

he turned to another lot of grocery staplesthis time starch, eleven barrels of it.

Young Cowperwood was making a rapid calculation. If, as the auctioneer said, coffee was worth seven

dollars and thirtytwo cents a bag in the open market, and this buyer was getting this coffee for seventyfive

dollars, he was making then and there eightysix dollars and four cents, to say nothing of what his profit

would be if he sold it at retail. As he recalled, his mother was paying twentyeight cents a pound. He drew

nearer, his books tucked under his arm, and watched these operations closely. The starch, as he soon heard,

was valued at ten dollars a barrel, and it only brought six. Some kegs of vinegar were knocked down at

onethird their value, and so on. He began to wish he could bid; but he had no money, just a little pocket

change. The auctioneer noticed him standing almost directly under his nose, and was impressed with the

"I am going to offer you now a fine lot of Castile soapseven cases, no lesswhich, as you know, if you

know anything about soap, is now selling at fourteen cents a bar. This soap is worth anywhere at this moment

eleven dollars and seventyfive cents a case. What am I bid? What am I bid? What am I bid?" He was talking

fast in the usual style of auctioneers, with much unnecessary emphasis; but Cowperwood was not unduly

impressed. He was already rapidly calculating for himself. Seven cases at eleven dollars and seventyfive

cents would be worth just eightytwo dollars and twentyfive cents; and if it went at halfif it went at

Then it came to dollar raises, for Castile soap was not such a vital commodity. "Twentysix."

"Twentyseven." "Twentyeight." "Twentynine." There was a pause. "Thirty," observed young

The auctioneer, a short lean faced, spare man with bushy hair and an incisive eye, looked at him curiously

and almost incredulously but without pausing. He had, somehow, in spite of himself, been impressed by the

boy's peculiar eye; and now he felt, without knowing why, that the offer was probably legitimate enough, and

"I'm bid thirty! I'm bid thirty! I'm bid thirty for this fine lot of Castile soap. It's a fine lot. It's worth fourteen

cents a bar. Will any one bid thirtyone? Will any one bid thirtyone? Will any one bid thirtyone?"

"I'm bid thirtytwo! I'm bid thirtytwo! I'm bid thirtytwo! Will anybody bid thirtythree? It's fine soap.

Young Cowperwood's mind was working. He had no money with him; but his father was teller of the Third

National Bank, and he could quote him as reference. 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 soap at this price. Why not he?

"Thirtytwo once! Am I bid thirtythree? Thirtytwo twice! Am I bid thirtythree? Thirtytwo three times!

Seven fine cases of soap. Am I bid anything more?" Once, twice! Three times! Am I bid anything

more?"his hand was up again"and sold to Mr.?" He leaned over and looked curiously into the face of

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

Young Cowperwood made no reply. He hurried out and ran fast; first, to his mother's grocer, whose store was

Thirty feet from the door he slowed up, put on a nonchalant air, and strolling in, looked about for Castile

soap. There it was, the same kind, displayed in a box and looking just as his soap looked.

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

He was perplexed and somewhat astonished by this unexpected proposition on the part of his neighbor's son.

He hurried out again and ran to his father's bank. It was after banking hours; but he knew how to get in, and

he knew that his father would be glad to see him make thirty dollars. He only wanted to borrow the money

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

"I want to buy some soapseven boxes of Castile soap. I know where I can get it and sell it. Mr. Dalrymple

will take it. He's already offered me sixtytwo for it. I can get it for thirtytwo. Will you let me have the

His father smiled. This was the most businesslike attitude he had seen his son manifest. He was so keen, so

"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 not going 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 show you in a little bit. Just let me have it.

He was like a young hound on the scent of game. His father could not resist his appeal.

"Why, certainly, Frank," he replied. "I'll trust you." And he counted out six fivedollar certificates of the

Frank ran out of the building with a briefly spoken thanks and returned to the auction room as fast as his legs

would carry him. When he came in, sugar was being auctioned. He made his way to the auctioneer's clerk.

The auctioneer watched him as he went out. In half an hour he was back with a draymanan idle

Frank had bargained with him to deliver the soap for sixty cents. In still another halfhour he was before the

door of the astonished Mr. Dalrymple whom he had come out and look at the boxes before attempting to

remove them. His plan was to have them carried on to his own home if the operation for any reason failed to

"Yes," said Mr. Dalrymple, scratching his gray head reflectively. "Yes, that's the same soap. I'll take it. I'll be

Mr. Dalrymple had the drayman bring in the soap; and after some formalitybecause the agent in this case

Frank thanked him and pocketed the note. He decided to go back to his father's bank and discount it, as he

had seen others doing, thereby paying his father back and getting his own profit in ready money. It couldn't

be done ordinarily on any day after business hours; but his father would make an exception in his case.

"Here's a note at thirty days," he said, producing the paper Dalrymple had given him. "Do you want to

His father examined it closely. "Sixtytwo dollars!" he observed. "Mr. Dalrymple! That's good paper! Yes, I

can. It will cost you ten per cent.," he added, jestingly. "Why don't you just hold it, though? I'll let you have

His father smiled at his businesslike air. "All right," he said. "I'll fix it tomorrow. Tell me just how you did

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

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

Mrs. Cowperwood looked at her boy curiously at dinner. Was this the son she had nursed at her bosom not so

Auction sales were not to be discovered every day, however, and his home grocer was only open to one such

transaction in a reasonable period of time, but from the very first young Cowperwood knew how to make

money. He took subscriptions for a boys' paper; handled the agency for the sale of a new kind of iceskate,

and once organized a band of neighborhood youths into a union for the purpose of purchasing their summer

straw hats at wholesale. It was not his idea that he could get rich by saving. From the first he had the notion

It was in this year, or a little earlier, that he began to take an interest in girls. He had from the first a keen eye

for the beautiful among them; and, being goodlooking and magnetic himself, it was not difficult for him to

attract the sympathetic interest of those in whom he was interested. A twelveyear old girl, Patience Barlow,

who lived further up the street, was the first to attract his attention or be attracted by him. Black hair and

snapping black eyes were her portion, with pretty pigtails down her back, and dainty feet and ankles to match

a 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 selfreliant, selfsufficient, straightspoken boy. One

day, after an exchange of glances from time to time, he said, with a smile and the courage that was innate in

"Yes," she replied, a little flusteredthis last manifested in a nervous swinging of her schoolbag"I live at

"I know the house," he said. "I've seen you go in there. You go to the same school my sister does, don't you?

Aren't you Patience Barlow?" He had heard some of the boys speak her name. "Yes. How do you know?"

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

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

"Don't you know my sister, Anna Cowperwood?" he recurred, by way of selfintroduction. "She's in a lower

"I live right over there," he confided, pointing to his own home as he drew near to it, as if she didn't know.

"Do you know Ruth Merriam?" she asked, when he was about ready to turn off into the cobblestone road to

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

"Maybe she'll ask you," she called back, growing more courageous as the distance between them widened.

He looked after her with a smiling face. She was very pretty. He felt a keen desire to kiss her, and what might

This was just one of the early love affairs, or puppy loves, that held his mind from time to time in the mixture

of after events. Patience Barlow was kissed by him in secret ways many times before he found another girl.

She and others of the street ran out to play in the snow of a winter's night, or lingered after dusk before her

own door when the days grew dark early. It was so easy to catch and kiss her then, and to talk to her foolishly

at parties. Then came Dora Fitler, when he was sixteen years old and she was fourteen; and Marjorie Stafford,

when he was seventeen and she was fifteen. Dora Fitter was a brunette, and Marjorie Stafford was as fair as

the morning, with brightred cheeks, bluishgray eyes, and flaxen hair, and as plump as a partridge.

It was at seventeen that he decided to leave school. He had not graduated. He had only finished the third year

in high school; but he had had enough. Ever since his thirteenth year his mind had been on finance; that is, in

the form in which he saw it manifested in Third Street. There had been odd things which he had been able to

do to earn a little money now and then. His Uncle Seneca had allowed him to act as assistant weigher at the

sugardocks in Southwark, where threehundredpound bags were weighed into the government bonded

warehouses under the eyes of United States inspectors. In certain emergencies he was called to assist his

father, and was paid for it. He even made an arrangement with Mr. Dalrymple to assist him on Saturdays; but

when his father became cashier of his bank, receiving an income of four thousand dollars a year, shortly after

Frank had reached his fifteenth year, it was selfevident that Frank could no longer continue in such lowly

Just at this time his Uncle Seneca, again back in Philadelphia and stouter and more domineering than ever,

"Now, Frank, if you're ready for it, I think I know where there's a good opening for you. There won't be any

salary in it for the first year, but if you mind your p's and q's, they'll probably give you something as a gift at

the end of that time. Do you know of Henry Waterman & Company down in Second Street?"

"Well, they tell me they might make a place for you as a bookkeeper. They're brokers in a waygrain and

commission men. You say you want to get in that line. When school's out, you go down and see Mr.

Watermantell 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, attracted the attention of a poor but ambitious

Philadelphia society matron; and because of this the general connections of the Cowperwoods were

considered vastly improved. Henry Cowperwood was planning to move with his family rather far out on

North Front Street, which commanded at that time a beautiful view of the river and was witnessing the

construction of some charming dwellings. His four thousand dollars a year in these preCivilWar times was

considerable. He was making what he considered judicious and conservative investments and because of his

cautious, conservative, clocklike conduct it was thought he might reasonably expect some day to be

This offer of Uncle Seneca to get him in with Waterman & Company seemed to Frank just the thing to start

him off right. So he reported to that organization at 74 South Second Street one day in June, and was

cordially received by Mr. Henry Waterman, Sr. There was, he soon learned, a Henry Waterman, Jr., a young

man of twentyfive, and a George Waterman, a brother, aged fifty, who was the confidential inside man.

Henry Waterman, Sr., a man of fiftyfive years of age, was the general head of the organization, inside and

outtraveling about the nearby territory to see customers when that was necessary, coming into final

counsel in cases where his brother could not adjust matters, suggesting and advising new ventures which his

associates and hirelings carried out. He was, to look at, a phlegmatic type of manshort, stout, wrinkled

about the eyes, rather protuberant as to stomach, rednecked, redfaced, the least bit popeyed, but shrewd,

kindly, goodnatured, and witty. He had, because of his naturally commonsense ideas and rather pleasing

disposition built up a sound and successful business here. He was getting strong in years and would gladly

have welcomed the hearty cooperation of his son, if the latter had been entirely suited to the business.

He was not, however. Not as democratic, as quickwitted, or as pleased with the work in hand as was his

father, the business actually offended him. And if the trade had been left to his care, it would have rapidly

disappeared. His father foresaw this, was grieved, and was hoping some young man would eventually appear

who would be interested in the business, handle it in the same spirit in which it had been handled, and who

Then came young Cowperwood, spoken of to him by Seneca Davis. He looked him over critically. Yes, this

boy might do, he thought. There was something easy and sufficient about him. He did not appear to be in the

least flustered or disturbed. He knew how to keep books, he said, though he knew nothing of the details of the

grain and commission business. It was interesting to him. He would like to try it.

"I like that fellow," Henry Waterman confided to his brother the moment Frank had gone with instructions to

report the following morning. "There's something to him. He's the cleanest, briskest, most alive thing that's

"Yes," said George, a much leaner and slightly taller man, with dark, blurry, reflective eyes and a thin,

largely vanished growth of brownishblack hair which contrasted strangely with the eggshaped whiteness

of his bald head. "Yes, he's a nice young man. It's a wonder his father don't take him in his bank."

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

Henry got up and walked out into the main entrance looking into Second Street. The cool cobble pavements,

shaded from the eastern sun by the wall of buildings on the eastof which his was a part the noisy trucks

and drays, the busy crowds hurrying to and fro, pleased him. He looked at the buildings over the wayall

three and four stories, and largely of gray stone and crowded with life and thanked his stars that he had

originally located in so prosperous a neighborhood. If he had only brought more property at the time he

"I wish that Cowperwood boy would turn out to be the kind of man I want," he observed to himself,

Curiously, after only three or four minutes of conversation with the boy, he sensed this marked quality of

The appearance of Frank Cowperwood at this time was, to say the least, prepossessing and satisfactory.

Nature had destined him to be about five feet ten inches tall. His head was large, shapely, notably commercial

in aspect, thickly covered with crisp, darkbrown hair and fixed on a pair of square shoulders and a stocky

body. Already his eyes had the look that subtle years of thought bring. They were inscrutable. You could tell

nothing by his eyes. He walked with a light, confident, springy step. Life had given him no severe shocks nor

rude awakenings. He had not 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 family was respected, his father well placed. He owed

no man anything. Once he had let a small note of his become overdue at the bank, but his father raised such a

row that he never forgot it. "I would rather crawl on my hands and knees than let my paper go to protest," the

old gentleman observed; and this fixed in his mind what scarcely needed to be so sharply emphasizedthe

significance of credit. No paper of his ever went to protest or became overdue after that through any

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 assistant bookkeeper, vice Mr. Thomas Trixler, dismissed, and in two weeks George

said: "Why don't we make Cowperwood head bookkeeper? He knows more in a minute than that fellow

"All right, make the transfer, George, but don't fuss so. "He won't be a bookkeeper long, though. I want to see

The books of Messrs. Waterman & Co., though fairly complicated, were child's play to Frank. He went

through them with an ease and rapidity which surprised his erstwhile superior, Mr. Sampson.

"Why, that fellow," Sampson told another clerk on the first day he had seen Cowperwood work, "he's too

brisk. He's going to make a bad break. I know that kind. Wait a little bit until we get one of those rush credit

and transfer days." But the bad break Mr. Sampson anticipated did not materialize. In less than a week

Cowperwood knew the financial condition of the Messrs. Waterman as well as they didbetterto a dollar.

He knew how their accounts were distributed; from what section they drew the most business; who sent poor

produce and goodthe varying prices for a year told that. To satisfy himself he ran back over certain

accounts in the ledger, verifying his suspicions. Bookkeeping did not interest him except as a record, a

demonstration of a firm's life. He knew he would not do this long. Something else would happen; but he saw

instantly what the grain and commission business wasevery detail of it. He saw where, for want of greater

activity in offering the goods consignedquicker communication with shippers and buyers, a better working

agreement with surrounding commission menthis house, or, rather, its customers, for it had nothing,

endured severe losses. A man would ship a towboat or a carload of fruit or vegetables against a supposedly

rising or stable market; but if ten other men did the same thing at the same time, or other commission men

were flooded with fruit or vegetables, and there was no way of disposing of them within a reasonable time,

the price had to fall. Every day was bringing its special consignments. It instantly occurred to him that he

would be of much more use to the house as an outside man disposing of heavy shipments, but he hesitated to

The Watermans, Henry and George, were greatly pleased with the way he handled their accounts. There was

a sense of security in his very presence. He soon began to call Brother George's attention to the condition of

certain accounts, making suggestions as to their possible liquidation or discontinuance, which pleased that

individual greatly. He saw a way of lightening his own labors through the intelligence of this youth; while at

Brother Henry was for trying him on the outside. It was not always possible to fill the orders with the stock

on hand, and somebody had to go into the street or the Exchange to buy and usually he did this. One morning,

when waybills indicated a probable glut of flour and a shortage of grainFrank saw it firstthe elder

"Frank, I wish you would see what you can do with this condition that confronts us on the street. By

tomorrow we're going to be overcrowded with flour. We can't be paying storage charges, and our orders

won't eat it up. We're short on grain. Maybe you could trade out the flour to some of those brokers and get me

He knew from his books where the various commissionhouses were. He knew what the local merchants'

exchange, and the various commissionmerchants who dealt in these things, had to offer. This was the thing

he liked to doadjust a trade difficulty of this nature. It was pleasant to be out in the air again, to be going

from door to door. He objected to desk work and pen work and poring over books. As he said in later years,

his brain was his office. He hurried to the principal commissionmerchants, learning what the state of the

flour market was, and offering his surplus at the very rate he would have expected to get for it if there had

been no prospective glut. Did they want to buy for immediate delivery (fortyeight hours being immediate)

six hundred barrels of prime 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 one portion, and some another. In about an hour he was all

secure on this save one lot of two hundred barrels, which he decided to offer in one lump to a famous

operator named Genderman with whom his firm did no business. The latter, a big man with curly gray hair, a

gnarled and yet pudgy face, and little eyes that peeked out shrewdly through fat eyelids, looked at

"So you work for Waterman & Company? You want to make a record, no doubt. That's why you came to

Cowperwood hurried out. He went direct to a firm of brokers in Walnut Street, with whom his firm dealt, and

had them bid in the grain he needed at prevailing rates. Then he returned to the office.

"Well," said Henry Waterman, when he reported, "you did that quick. Sold old Genderman two hundred

barrels direct, did you? That's doing pretty well. He isn't on our books, is he?"

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

Thereafter, in the course of time, Frank became a familiar figure in the commission district and on 'change

(the Produce Exchange), striking balances for his employer, picking up odd lots of things they needed,

soliciting new customers, breaking gluts by disposing of odd lots in unexpected quarters. Indeed the

Watermans were astonished at his facility in this respect. He had an uncanny faculty for getting appreciative

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 out into the

Near Christmastime Henry said to George: "We'll have to make Cowperwood a liberal present. He hasn't

"That's pretty much, seeing the way times are, but I guess he's worth it. He's certainly done everything we've

"Well, we'll make it five hundred. That fellow wouldn't make a bad partner in this business some day. He has

the real knack for it. You see that he gets the five hundred dollars with a word from both of us."

So the night before Christmas, as Cowperwood was looking over some waybills and certificates of

consignment preparatory to leaving all in order for the intervening holiday, George Waterman came to his

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

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

"My brother and I have been especially pleased with the way you have handled the work here during the past

six months. We wanted to make some acknowledgment, and we thought about five hundred dollars would be

right. Beginning January first we'll give you a regular salary of thirty dollars a week."

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

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

Cowperwood smiled his hearty, genial smile. He was feeling very comfortable under this evidence of

On the way home that evening he speculated as to the nature of this business. He knew he wasn't going to

stay there long, even in spite of this gift and promise of salary. They were grateful, of course; but why

shouldn't they be? He was efficient, he knew that; under him things moved smoothly. It never occurred to

him that he belonged in the realm of clerkdom. Those people were the kind of beings who ought to work for

him, and who would. There was nothing savage in his attitude, no rage against fate, no dark fear of failure.

These two men he worked for were already nothing more than characters in his eyestheir business

significated itself. He could see their weaknesses and their shortcomings as a much older man might have

After dinner that evening, before leaving to call on his girl, Marjorie Stafford, he told his father of the gift of

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

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

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

He went out into the diningroom, where his mother was, and slipping his arms around her little body, said:

"I got five hundred dollars tonight, 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

He went out, pausing at the door to grab playfully at his sister's waist, and saying that he'd be back about

midnight, hurried to Marjorie's house, because he had promised to take her to a show.

"Anything you want for Christmas this year, Margy?" he asked, after kissing her in the dimlylighted hall. "I

The following October, having passed his eighteenth year by nearly six months, and feeling sure that he

would never want anything to do with the grain and commission business as conducted by the Waterman

Company, Cowperwood decided to sever his relations with them and enter the employ of Tighe & Company,

Cowperwood's meeting with Tighe & Company had come about in the ordinary pursuance of his duties as

outside man for Waterman & Company. From the first Mr. Tighe took a keen interest in this subtle young

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

Because of the unsettled condition of the country, the overinflation of securities, the slavery agitation, and

so forth, there were prospects of hard times. And Tighehe could not have told you whywas convinced

that this young man was worth talking to in regard to all this. He was not really old enough to know, and yet

"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 slavery agitation, if it doesn't stop, is going to cause

A negro slave belonging to a visitor from Cuba had just been abducted and set free, because the laws of

Pennsylvania made freedom the right of any negro brought into the state, even though in transit only to

another portion of the country, and there was great excitement because of it. Several persons had been

"I don't think the South is going to stand for this thing. It's making trouble 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 talked with the

"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'll go on agitating for himemotional people always do this. They haven't

He turned to a new customer as young Cowperwood went out, but again the boy struck him as being

inexpressibly sound and deepthinking on financial matters. "If that young fellow wanted a place, I'd give it

Finally, one day he said to him: "How would you like to try your hand at being a floor man for me in

"I'd like it," replied Cowperwood, smiling and looking intensely gratified. "I had thought of speaking to you

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

"I'll have to give a reasonable notice at the other place," Cowperwood said, quietly. "Would you mind waiting

"Not at all. It isn't as important as that. Come as soon as you can straighten things out. I don't want to

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. Henry

"Why, I thought," he exclaimed, vigorously, when informed by Cowperwood of his decision, "that you liked

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

"Well, that certainly is too bad. I'm sorry. I don't want to urge you against your own best interests. You know

what you are doing. But George and I had about agreed to offer you an interest in this thing after a bit. Now

you're picking up and leaving. Why, damn it, man, there's good money in this business."

"I know it," smiled Cowperwood, "but I don't like it. I have other plans in view. I'll never be a grain and

commission man." Mr. Henry Waterman could scarcely understand why obvious success in this field did not

And once the change was made Cowperwood was convinced that this new work was more suited to him in

every wayas easy and more profitable, of course. In the first place, the firm of Tighe & Co., unlike that of

Waterman & Co., was located in a handsome greengray stone building at 66 South Third Street, in what was

then, and for a number of years afterward, the heart of the financial district. Great institutions of national and

international import and repute were near at handDrexel & Co., Edward Clark & Co., the Third National

Bank, the First National Bank, the Stock Exchange, and similar institutions. Almost a score of smaller banks

and brokerage firms were also in the vicinity. Edward Tighe, the head and brains of this concern, was a

Boston Irishman, the son of an immigrant who had flourished and done well in that conservative city. He had

come to Philadelphia to interest himself in the speculative life there. "Sure, it's a right good place for those of

us who are awake," he told his friends, with a slight Irish accent, and he considered himself very much

awake. He was a mediumtall man, not very stout, slightly and prematurely gray, and with a manner which

was as lively and goodnatured as it was combative and selfreliant. His upper lip was ornamented by a

"May heaven preserve me," he said, not long after he came there, "these Pennsylvanians never pay for

anything they can issue bonds for." It was the period when Pennsylvania's credit, and for that matter

Philadelphia's, was very bad in spite of its great wealth. "If there's ever a war there'll be battalions of

Pennsylvanians marching around offering notes for their meals. If I could just live long enough I could get

rich buyin' up Pennsylvania notes and bonds. I think they'll pay some time; but, my God, they're mortal slow!

I'll be dead before the State 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 was most reprehensible. Both State and city

were rich enough; but there were so many schemes for looting the treasury in both instances that when any

new work had to be undertaken bonds were necessarily issued to raise the money. These bonds, or warrants,

as they were called, pledged interest at 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 with the date of presentation, and the warrant

then bore interest for not only its original face value, but the amount then due in interest. In other words, it

was being slowly compounded. But this did not help the man who wanted to raise money, for as security they

could not be hypothecated for more than seventy per cent. of their market value, and they were not selling at

par, but at ninety. A man might buy or accept them in foreclosure, but he had a long wait. Also, in the final

payment of most of them favoritism ruled, for it was only when the treasurer knew that certain warrants were

in the hands of "a friend" that he would advertise that such and such warrants those particular ones that he

What was more, the money system of the United States was only then beginning slowly to emerge from

something approximating chaos to something more nearly approaching order. The United States Bank, of

which Nicholas Biddle was the progenitor, had gone completely in 1841, and the United States Treasury with

its subtreasury system had come in 1846; but still there were many, many wildcat banks, sufficient in number

to make the average exchangecounter broker a walking encyclopedia of solvent and insolvent institutions.

Still, things were slowly improving, for the telegraph had facilitated stockmarket quotations, not only

between New York, Boston, and Philadelphia, but between a local broker's office in Philadelphia and his

stock exchange. In other words, the short private wire had been introduced. Communication was quicker and

Railroads had been built to the South, East, North, and West. There was as yet no stockticker and no

telephone, and the clearinghouse had only recently been thought of in New York, and had not yet been

introduced in Philadelphia. Instead of a clearinghouse service, messengers ran daily between banks and

brokerage firms, balancing accounts on passbooks, exchanging bills, and, once a week, transferring the gold

coin, which was the only thing that could be accepted for balances due, since there was no stable national

currency. "On 'change," when the gong struck announcing 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 various trades of the day in a ring, thus eliminating all those sales and

resales between certain firms which naturally canceled each other. They carried long account books, and

called out the transactions"Delaware and Maryland sold to Beaumont and Company," "Delware and

Maryland sold to Tighe and Company," and so on. This simplified the bookkeeping of the various firms, and

Seats "on 'change" sold for two thousand dollars each. The members of the exchange had just passed rules

limiting the trading to the hours between ten and three (before this they had been any time between morning

and midnight), and had fixed the rates at which brokers could do business, in the face of cutthroat schemes

which had previously held. Severe penalties were fixed for those who failed to obey. In other words, things

were shaping up for a great 'change business, and Edward Tighe felt, with other brokers, that there was a

The Cowperwood family was by this time established in its new and larger and more tastefully furnished

house on North Front Street, facing the river. The house was four stories tall and stood twentyfive feet on

Here the family began to entertain in a small way, and there came to see them, now and then, representatives

of the various interests that Henry Cowperwood had encountered in his upward climb to the position of

cashier. It was not a very distinguished company, but it included a number of people who were about as

successful as himselfheads of small businesses who traded at his bank, dealers in drygoods, leather,

groceries (wholesale), and grain. The children had come to have intimacies of their own. Now and then,

because of church connections, Mrs. Cowperwood ventured to have an afternoon tea or reception, at which

even Cowperwood attempted the gallant in so far as to stand about in a genially foolish way and greet those

whom his wife had invited. And so long as he could maintain his gravity very solemnly and greet people

without being required to say much, it was not too painful for him. Singing was indulged in at times, a little

dancing on occasion, and there was considerably more "company to dinner," informally, than there had been

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. Her husband had a pretentious shoe store on Chestnut Street, near Third, and was

The occasion of the meeting was an evening call on the part of the Semples, Mr. Semple being desirous of

talking with Henry Cowperwood concerning a new transportation feature which was then entering the

worldnamely, streetcars. A tentative line, incorporated by the North Pennsylvania Railway Company, had

been put into operation on a mile and a half of tracks extending from Willow Street along Front to

Germantown Road, and thence by various streets to what was then known as the Cohocksink Depot; and it

was thought that in time this mode of locomotion might drive out the hundreds of omnibuses which now

crowded and made impassable the downtown streets. Young Cowperwood had been greatly 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, had gone to see it. A strange

but interesting new type of car, fourteen feet long, seven feet wide, and nearly the same height, running on

small iron carwheels, was giving great satisfaction as being quieter and easierriding than omnibuses; and

Alfred Semple was privately considering investing in another proposed line which, if it could secure a

Cowperwood, Senior, saw a great future for this thing; but he did not see as yet how the capital was to be

raised for it. Frank believed that Tighe & Co. should attempt to become the selling agents of this new stock of

the Fifth and Sixth Street Company in the event it succeeded in getting a franchise. He understood that a

company was already formed, that a large amount of stock was to be issued against the prospective franchise,

and that these shares were to be sold at five dollars, as against an ultimate par value of one hundred. He

Meanwhile, Lillian Semple caught and held his interest. Just what it was about her that attracted him at this

age it would be hard to say, for she was really not suited to him emotionally, intellectually, or otherwise. He

was not without experience with women or girls, and still held a tentative relationship with Marjorie Stafford;

but Lillian Semple, in spite of the fact that she was married and that he could have legitimate interest in her,

seemed not wiser and saner, but more worth while. She was twentyfour as opposed to Frank's nineteen, but

still young enough in her thoughts and looks to appear of his own age. She was slightly taller than

hethough he was now his full height (five feet ten and onehalf inches)and, despite her height, shapely,

artistic in 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 waxencream waxwith lips of faint pink, and eyes that varied from gray

to blue and from gray to brown, according to the light in which you saw them. Her hands were thin and

shapely, her nose straight, 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 to his present sense of the artistic. She was lovely, he thoughtgracious, dignified. If he could have his

As yet, Cowperwood's judgment of women was temperamental rather than intellectual. Engrossed as he was

by his desire for wealth, prestige, dominance, he was confused, if not chastened by considerations relating to

position, presentability and the like. None the less, the homely woman meant nothing to him. And the

passionate woman meant much. He heard family discussions of this and that sacrificial soul among women,

as well as among menwomen who toiled and slaved for their husbands or children, or both, who gave way

to relatives or friends in crises or crucial moments, because it was right and kind to do sobut somehow

these stories did not appeal to him. He preferred to think of peopleeven womenas honestly, frankly

selfinterested. He could not have told you why. People seemed foolish, or at the best very unfortunate not to

know what to do in all circumstances and how to protect themselves. There was great talk concerning

morality, much praise of virtue and decency, and much lifting of hands in righteous horror at people who

broke or were even rumored to have broken the Seventh Commandment. He did not take this talk seriously.

Already he had broken it secretly many times. Other young men did. Yet again, he was a little sick of the

women of the streets and the bagnio. There were too many coarse, evil features in connection with such

contacts. For a little while, the false tinselglitter of the house of ill repute appealed to him, for there was a

certain force to its luxuryrich, as a rule, with redplush furniture, showy red hangings, some coarse but

showilyframed pictures, and, above all, the strongbodied or sensuously lymphatic women who dwelt there,

to (as his mother phrased it) prey on men. The strength of their bodies, the lust of their souls, the fact that

they could, with a show of affection or goodnature, receive man after man, astonished and later disgusted

him. After all, they were not smart. 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 the dreariness of the mornings after, the stale

dregs of things when only sleep 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 more intimate, subtle, individual, personal.

So came Lillian Semple, who was nothing more to him than the shadow of an ideal. Yet she cleared up

certain of his ideas in regard to women. She was not physically as vigorous or brutal as those other women

whom he had encountered in the lupanars, thus farraw, unashamed contraveners of accepted theories and

notionsand for that very reason he liked her. And his thoughts continued to dwell on her, notwithstanding

the hectic days which now passed like flashes of light in his new business venture. For this stock exchange

world in which he now found himself, primitive as it would seem today, was most fascinating to

Cowperwood. The room that he went to in Third Street, at Dock, where the brokers or their agents and clerks

gathered one hundred and fifty strong, was nothing to speak of artisticallya square chamber sixty by sixty,

reaching from the second floor to the roof of a fourstory building; but it was striking to him. The windows

were high and narrow; a largefaced clock faced the west entrance of the room where you came in from the

stairs; a collection of telegraph instruments, with their accompanying desks and chairs, occupied the northeast

corner. On the floor, in the early days of the exchange, were rows of chairs where the brokers sat while

various lots of stocks were offered to them. Later in the history of the exchange the chairs were removed and

at different points posts or floorsigns indicating where certain stocks were traded in were introduced.

Around these the men who were interested gathered to do their trading. From a hall on the third floor a door

gave entrance to a visitor's gallery, small and poorly furnished; and on the west wall a large blackboard

carried current quotations in stocks as telegraphed from New York and Boston. A wicketlike fence in the

center of the room surrounded the desk and chair of the official recorder; and a very small gallery opening

from the 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 the southwest corner, where reports and annual compendiums

of chairs were removed and at different signs indicating where certain stocks of various kinds were kept and

Young Cowperwood would not have been admitted at all, as either a broker or broker's agent or assistant,

except that Tighe, feeling that he needed him and believing that he would be very useful, bought him a seat

on 'changecharging the two thousand dollars it cost as a debt and then ostensibly taking him into

partnership. It was against the rules of the exchange to sham a partnership in this way in order to put a man

on the floor, but brokers did it. These men who were known to be minor partners and floor assistants were

derisively called "eighth chasers" and "twodollar brokers," because they were always seeking small orders

and were willing to buy or sell for anybody on their commission, accounting, of course, to their firms for

their work. Cowperwood, regardless of his intrinsic merits, was originally counted one of their number, and

he was put under the direction of Mr. Arthur Rivers, the regular floor man of Tighe & Company.

Rivers was an exceedingly forceful man of thirtyfive, welldressed, wellformed, with a hard, smooth,

evenly chiseled face, which was ornamented by a short, black mustache and fine, black, clearly penciled

eyebrows. 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. He had a soft voice, a quiet, conservative manner, and both in and out of this

brokerage and trading world was controlled by good form. Cowperwood wondered at first why Rivers should

work for Tighehe appeared almost as ablebut afterward learned that he was in the company. Tighe was

It was useless, as Frank soon found, to try to figure out exactly why stocks rose and fell. Some general

reasons there were, of course, as he was told by Tighe, but they could not always be depended on.

"Sure, anything can make or break a market"Tighe explained in his delicate brogue"from the failure of a

bank to the rumor that your second 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 you could never explain at allno one could. It

wouldn't be possible to find out why they broke. I've seen rises the same way. My God, the rumors of the

stock exchange! They beat the devil. If they're going down in 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 must be

buyingthat's sure. Beyond thatwell, ask Rivers to show you the ropes. Don't you ever lose for me,

though. That's the cardinal sin in this office." He grinned maliciously, even if kindly, at that.

Cowperwood understoodnone better. This subtle world appealed to him. It answered to his temperament.

There were rumors, rumors, rumorsof great railway and streetcar undertakings, land developments,

government revision of the tariff, war between France and Turkey, famine in Russia or Ireland, and so on.

The first Atlantic cable had not been laid as yet, and news of any kind from abroad was slow and meager.

Still there were great financial figures in the held, men who, like Cyrus Field, or William H. Vanderbilt, or F.

X. Drexel, were doing marvelous things, and their activities and the rumors concerning them counted for

Frank soon picked up all of the technicalities of the situation. A "bull," he learned, was one who bought in

anticipation of a higher price to come; and if he was "loaded up" with a "line" of stocks he was said to be

"long." He sold to "realize" his profit, or if his margins were exhausted he was "wiped out." A "bear" was one

who sold stocks which most frequently he did not have, in anticipation of a lower price, at which he could

buy and satisfy his previous sales. He was "short" when he had sold what he did not own, and he "covered"

when he bought to satisfy his sales and to realize his profits or to protect himself against further loss in case

prices advanced instead of declining. He was in a "corner" when he found that he could not buy in order to

make good the stock he had borrowed for delivery and the return of which had been demanded. He was then

obliged to settle practically at a price fixed by those to whom he and other "shorts" had sold.

He smiled at first at the air of great secrecy and wisdom on the part of the younger men. They were so

heartily and foolishly suspicious. The older 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 up what you wanted. All had their little notebooks. All had their peculiar

squint of eye or position or motion which meant "Done! I take you!" Sometimes they seemed scarcely to

confirm their sales or purchasesthey knew each other so wellbut they did. If the market was for any

reason active, the brokers and their agents were apt to be more numerous than if it were dull and the trading

indifferent. A gong sounded the call to trading at ten o'clock, and if there was a noticeable rise or decline in a

stock or a group of stocks, you were apt to witness quite a spirited scene. Fifty to a hundred men would shout,

gesticulate, shove here and there in an apparently aimless marmer; endeavoring to take advantage of the stock

"Fiveeighths for five hundred P. and W.," some one would call Rivers or Cowperwood, or any other

Five hundred at threefourths," would come the reply from some one else, who either had an order to sell the

stock at that price or who was willing to sell it short, hoping to pick up enough of the stock at a lower figure

later to fill his order and make a little something besides. If the supply of stock at that figure was large Rivers

would probably continue to bid fiveeighths. If, on the other hand, he noticed an increasing demand, he

would probably pay threefourths for it. If the professional traders believed Rivers had a large buying order,

they would probably try to buy the stock before he could at threefourths, believing they could sell it out to

him at a slightly higher price. The professional traders were, of course, keen students of psychology; and their

success depended on their ability to guess whether or not a broker representing a big manipulator, like Tighe,

had an order large enough to affect the market sufficiently to give them an opportunity to "get in and out," as

they termed it, at a profit before he had completed the execution of his order. They were like hawks watching

for an opportunity to snatch their prey from under the very claws of their opponents.

Four, five, ten, fifteen, twenty, thirty, forty, fifty, and sometimes the whole company would attempt to take

advantage of the given rise of a given stock by either selling or offering to buy, in which case the activity and

the noise would become deafening. Given groups might be trading in different things; but the large majority

of them would abandon what they were doing in order to take advantage of a speciality. The eagerness of

certain young brokers or clerks to discover all that was going on, and to take advantage of any given rise or

fall, made for quick physical action, darting to and fro, the excited elevation of explanatory fingers. Distorted

faces were shoved over shoulders or under arms. The most ridiculous grimaces were purposely or

unconsciously indulged in. At times there were situations in which some individual was fairly smothered with

arms, faces, shoulders, crowded toward him when he manifested any intention of either buying or selling at a

profitable rate. At first it seemed quite a wonderful thing to young Cowperwoodthe very physical face of

itfor he liked human presence and activity; but a little later the sense of the thing as a picture or a dramatic

situation, of which he was a part faded, and he came down to a clearer sense of the intricacies of the problem

before him. Buying and selling stocks, as he soon learned, was an art, a subtlety, almost a psychic emotion.

Yet in time he also asked himself, who was it who made the real moneythe stockbrokers? 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 any unwary fish. Back of them were other

men, men with shrewd ideas, subtle resources. Men of immense means whose enterprise and holdings these

stocks represented, the men who schemed out and built the railroads, opened the mines, organized trading

enterprises, and built up immense manufactories. They might use brokers or other agents to buy and sell on

'change; but this buying and selling must be, and always was, incidental to the actual factthe mine, the

railroad, the wheat crop, the flour mill, and so on. Anything less than straightout sales to realize quickly on

assets, or buying to hold as an investment, was gambling pure and simple, and these men were gamblers. He

was nothing more than a gambler's agent. It was not troubling him any just at this moment, but it 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, some foolish, some clever, some slow, but in the main all smallminded or

deficient because they were agents, tools, or gamblers. A man, a real man, must never be an agent, a tool, or a

gambleracting for himself or for othershe must employ such. A real mana financierwas never a

Clearly, very clearly, at nineteen, twenty, and twentyone 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.

In the meantime, his interest in Mrs. Semple had been secretly and strangely growing. When he received an

invitation to call at the Semple home, he accepted with a great deal of pleasure. Their house was located not

so very far from his own, on North Front Street, in the neighborhood of what is now known as No. 956. It

had, in summer, quite a wealth of green leaves and vines. The little side porch which ornamented its south

wall commanded a charming view of the river, and all the windows and doors were topped with lunettes of

smallpaned glass. The interior of the house was not as pleasing as he would have had it. Artistic

impressiveness, as to the furniture at least, was wanting, although it was new and good. The pictures

werewell, simply pictures. There were no books to speak ofthe Bible, a few current novels, some of the

more significant histories, and a collection of antiquated odds and ends in the shape of books inherited from

relatives. The china was goodof a delicate pattern. The carpets and wallpaper were too high in key. So it

went. Still, the personality of Lillian Semple was worth something, for she was really pleasing to look upon,

There were no childrena dispensation of sex conditions which had nothing to do with her, for she longed to

have them. She was without any notable experience in social life, except such as had come to the Wiggin

family, of which she was a memberrelatives and a few neighborhood friends visiting. Lillian Wiggin, that

was her maiden namehad two brothers and one sister, all living in Philadelphia and all married at this time.

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 who could arouse a notable passion in any woman. He was practical,

methodic, orderly. His shoe store was a good one wellstocked with styles reflecting the current tastes and

a model of cleanliness and what one might term pleasing brightness. He loved to talk, when he talked at all,

of shoe manufacturing, the development of lasts and styles. The readymade shoemachinemade to a

certain extentwas just coming into its own slowly, and outside of these, supplies of which he kept, he

employed benchmaking shoemakers, satisfying his customers with personal measurements and making the

Mrs. Semple read a littlenot much. She had a habit of sitting and apparently brooding reflectively at times,

but it was not based on any deep thought. She had that curious beauty of body, though, that made her

somewhat like a figure on an antique vase, or out of a Greek chorus. It was in this light, unquestionably, that

Cowperwood saw her, for from the beginning he could not keep his eyes off her. In a way, she was aware of

this but she did not attach any significance to it. Thoroughly conventional, satisfied now that her life was

bound permanently with that of her husband, she had settled down to a staid and quiet existence.

At first, when Frank called, she did not have much to say. She was gracious, but the burden of conversation

fell on her husband. Cowperwood watched the varying expression of her face from time to time, and if she

had been at all psychic she must have felt something. Fortunately she was not. Semple talked to him

pleasantly, because in the first place Frank was becoming financially significant, was suave and ingratiating,

and in the next place he was anxious to get richer and somehow Frank represented progress to him in that

line. One spring evening they sat on the porch and talkednothing very importantslavery, streetcars, the

panicit was on then, that of 1857the development of the West. Mr. Semple wanted to know all about the

stock exchange. In return Frank asked about the shoe business, though he really did not care. All the while,

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 the piano. At

Thereafter, for a year or so, Cowperwood bought his shoes of Mr. Semple. Occasionally also he stopped in

the Chestnut Street store to exchange the time of the day. Semple asked his opinion as to the advisability of

buying some shares in the Fifth and Sixth Street line, which, having secured a franchise, was creating great

excitement. Cowperwood gave him his best judgment. It was sure to be profitable. He himself had purchased

one hundred shares at five dollars a share, and urged Semple to do so. But he was not interested in him

About a year later, Mr. Semple died. It was an untimely death, one of those fortuitous and in a way

insignificant episodes which are, nevertheless, dramatic in a dull way to those most concerned. He was seized

with a cold in the chest late in the fallone of those seizures ordinarily attributed to wet feet or to going out

on a damp day without an overcoatand had insisted on going to business when Mrs. Semple urged him to

stay at home and recuperate. He was in his way a very determined person, not obstreperously so, but quietly

and under the surface. Business was a great urge. He saw himself soon to be worth about fifty thousand

dollars. Then this coldnine more days of pneumoniaand he was dead. The shoe store was closed for a

few days; the house was full of sympathetic friends and church people. There was a funeral, with burial

service in the Callowhill Presbyterian Church, to which 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 a depressed state. A brother of

hers, David Wiggin, undertook for the time being to run the shoe business for her. There was no will, but in

the final adjustment, which included the sale of the shoe business, there being no desire on anybody's part to

contest her right to all the property, she received over eighteen thousand dollars. She continued to reside in

Throughout this procedure young Cowperwood, only twenty years of age, was quietly manifest. He called

during the illness. He attended the funeral. He helped her brother, David Wiggin, dispose of the shoe

business. He called once or twice after the funeral, then stayed away for a considerable time. In five months

he reappeared, and thereafter he was 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, waxlike in its quality, fascinated him;

her indifference aroused perhaps his combative soul. He could not have explained why, but he wanted her in

an urgent, passionate way. He could not think of her reasonably, and he did not talk of her much to any one.

His family knew that he went to see her, but there had grown up in the Cowperwood family a deep respect for

the mental force of Frank. He was genial, cheerful, gay at most times, without being talkative, and he was

decidedly successful. Everybody knew he was making money now. His salary was fifty dollars a week, and

he was certain soon to get more. Some lots of his in West Philadelphia, bought three years before, had

increased notably in value. His streetcar holdings, augmented by still additional lots of fifty and one

hundred and one hundred and fifty shares in new lines incorporated, were slowly rising, in spite of hard

times, from the initiative five dollars in each case to ten, fifteen, and twentyfive dollars a shareall

destined to go to par. He was liked in the financial district and he was sure that he had a successful future.

Because of his analysis of the brokerage situation he had come to the conclusion that he did not want to be a

stock gambler. Instead, he was considering the matter of engaging in billbrokering, a business which he had

observed to be very profitable and which involved no risk as long as one had capital. Through his work and

his father's connections he had met many peoplemerchants, bankers, traders. He could get their business,

or a part of it, he knew. People in Drexel & Co. and Clark & Co. were friendly to him. Jay Cooke, a rising

Meanwhile he called on Mrs. Semple, and the more he called the better he liked her. There was no exchange

of brilliant ideas between them; but he had a way of being comforting and social when he wished. He advised

her about her business affairs in so intelligent a way that even her relatives approved of it. She came to like

him, because he was so considerate, quiet, reassuring, and so ready to explain over and over until everything

was quite plain to her. She could see that he was looking on her affairs quite as if they were his own, trying to

"You're so very kind, Frank," she said to him, one night. "I'm awfully grateful. I don't know what I would

She looked at his handsome face, which was turned to hers, with childlike simplicity.

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

His eyes had a peculiar, subtle ray in themnot a gleam. She felt warm toward him, sympathetic, quite

"Well, I am very grateful just the same. You've been so good. Come out Sunday again, if you want to, or any

It was while he was calling on her in this way that his Uncle Seneca died in Cuba and left him fifteen

thousand dollars. This money made him worth nearly twentyfive thousand dollars in his own right, and he

knew exactly 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 the brokerage 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 hidingplaces in banks, vaults, teakettles, and

stockings. The country seemed to be going to the dogs. War with the South or secession was vaguely looming

up in the distance. The temper of the whole nation was nervous. People dumped their holdings on the market

in order to get money. Tighe discharged three of his clerks. He cut down his expenses in every possible way,

and used up all his private savings to protect his private holdings. He mortgaged his house, his land

holdingseverything; and in many instances young Cowperwood was his intermediary, carrying blocks of

"See if your father's bank won't loan me fifteen thousand on these," he said to Frank, one day, producing a

bundle of Philadelphia & Wilmington shares. Frank had heard his father speak of them in times past as

"They ought to be good," the elder Cowperwood said, dubiously, when shown the package of securities. "At

any other time they would be. But money is so tight. We find it awfully hard these days to meet our own

There was a long conversationa long wait. His father came back to say it was doubtful whether they could

make the loan. Eight per cent., then being secured for money, was a small rate of interest, considering its

need. For ten per cent. Mr. Kugel might make a callloan. Frank went back to his employer, whose

"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 stand that. Well, take 'em back and bring me the money. Good God, this'll never

Tighe was credited with a deposit of fifteen thousand dollars, with privilege to draw against it at once. He

made out a check for the total fifteen thousand at once to the Girard National Bank to cover a shrinkage there.

During all these days young Cowperwood was following these financial complications with interest. He was

not disturbed by the cause of slavery, or the talk of secession, or the general progress or decline of the

country, except in so far as it affected his immediate interests. He longed to become a stable financier; but,

now that he saw the inside of the brokerage business, he was not so sure that he wanted to stay in it.

Gambling in stocks, according to conditions produced by this panic, seemed very hazardous. A number of

brokers failed. He saw them rush in to 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

This panic, incidentally, only made Frank more certain as to what he really wanted to donow that he had

this free money, he would go into business for himself. Even Tighe's offer of a minor partnership failed to

"I think you have a nice business," he explained, in refusing, "but I want to get in the notebrokerage

business for myself. I don't trust this stock game. I'd rather have a little business of my own than all the floor

"But you're pretty young, Frank," argued his employer. "You have lots of time to work for yourself." In the

end he parted friends with both Tighe and Rivers. "That's a smart young fellow," observed Tighe, ruefully.

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

Cowperwood's world at this time was of roseate hue. He was in love and had money of his own to start his

new business venture. He could take his streetcar stocks, which were steadily increasing in value, and raise

seventy per cent. of their market value. He could put a mortgage on his lots and get money there, if necessary.

He had established financial relations with the Girard National BankPresident Davison there having taken

a fancy to himand he proposed to borrow from that institution some day. All he wanted was suitable

investmentsthings in which he could realize surely, quickly. He saw fine prospective profits in the

He purchased a horse and buggy about this timethe most attractivelooking animal and vehicle he could

findthe combination cost him five hundred dollarsand invited Mrs. Semple to drive with him. She

refused at first, but later consented. He had told her of his success, his prospects, his windfall of fifteen

thousand dollars, his intention of going into the notebrokerage business. She knew his father was likely to

succeed to the position of vicepresident in the Third National Bank, and she liked the Cowperwoods. Now

she began to realize that there was something more than mere friendship here. This erstwhile boy was a man,

and he was calling on her. It was almost ridiculous in the face of thingsher seniority, her widowhood, her

placid, retiring dispositionbut the sheer, quiet, determined force of this young man made it plain that he

Cowperwood did not delude himself with any noble theories of conduct in regard to her. She was beautiful,

with a mental and physical lure for him that was irresistible, and that was all he desired to know. No other

woman was holding him like that. It never occurred to him that he could not or should not like other women

at the same time. There was a great deal of palaver about the sanctity of the home. It rolled off his mental

sphere like water off the feathers of a duck. He was not eager for her money, though he was well aware of it.

He felt that he could use it to her advantage. He wanted her physically. He felt a keen, primitive interest in

the children they would have. He wanted to find out if he could make her love him vigorously and could rout

out the memory of her former life. Strange ambition. Strange perversion, one might almost say.

In spite of her fears and her uncertainty, Lillian Semple accepted his attentions and interest because, equally

in spite of herself, she was drawn to him. One night, when she was going to bed, she stopped in front of 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 surveyed her long, peculiarly shaded hair. She thought of young Cowperwood, and then

was chilled and shamed by the vision of the late Mr. Semple and the force and quality of public opinion.

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

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

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

"In years," he said, "certainly. That's nothing. I'm fifteen years older than you are in other ways. I know more

about life in some ways than you can ever hope to learndon't you think so?" he added, softly, persuasively.

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

"Yes, but that's only because you're a woman. A man can't hope to get a woman's point of view exactly. But

I'm talking about practical affairs of this world. You're not as old that way as I am."

She looked at him. His handsome body, slowly broadening, was nearly full grown. His face, because of its

full, clear, big, inscrutable eyes, had an expression which was almost babyish. She could not have guessed the

depths it veiled. His cheeks were pink, his hands not large, but sinewy and strong. Her pale, uncertain,

"I don't think you ought to come to see me so often. People won't think well of it." She ventured to take a

"People," he said, "don't worry about people. People think what you want them to think. I wish you wouldn't

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

"Don't say that!" he said, imperiously. "There's nothing to it. I want you to marry me. You know I do. Now,

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

"Becausewell, because I'm older. People would think it strange. I'm not long enough free."

"Oh, long enough nothing!" he exclaimed, irritably. "That's the one thing I have against youyou are so

worried about what people think. They don't make your life. They certainly don't make mine. Think of

yourself first. You have your own life to make. Are you going to let what other people think stand in the way

"Now you must not come near me," she pleaded, determinedly. "I'll go in the house, and I'll not let you come

She did show a good deal of determination, and he desisted. But for the time being only. He called again and

again. Then one night, when they had gone inside because of the mosquitoes, and when she had insisted that

he must stop coming to see her, that his attentions were noticeable to others, and that she would be disgraced,

"Now, see here!" she exclaimed. "I told you! It's silly! You mustn't kiss me! How dare you! Oh! oh! oh!"

She broke away and ran up the nearby stairway to her room. Cowperwood followed her swiftly. As she

pushed the door to he forced it open and recaptured her. He lifted her bodily from her feet and held her

"Oh, how could you!" she exclaimed. "I will never speak to you any more. I will never let you come here any

"I'll put you down, sweet," he said. "I'll take you down," at the same time pulling her face to him and kissing

While she was twisting and protesting, he carried her down the stairs again into the livingroom, and seated

"Oh!" she sighed, falling limp on his shoulder when he refused to let her go. Then, because of the set

determination of his face, some intense pull in him, she smiled. "How would I ever explain if I did marry

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

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

She relapsed into additional protests; but he kissed her the more. There was a deadly persuasion to his

caresses. Mr. Semple had never displayed any such fire. He aroused a force of feeling in her which had not

"What difference does it make? We're going to get married eventually." He was thinking how attractive he

could make her look in other surroundings. Neither she nor his family knew how to live.

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

He seemed of a sudden to open up a new world to her, and she realized that she had never really lived before.

This man represented something bigger and stronger than ever her husband had dreamed of. In his young way

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

Cowperwood started in the note brokerage business with a small office at No. 64 South Third Street, where

he very soon had the pleasure of discovering that his former excellent business connections remembered him.

He would go to one house, where he suspected ready money might be desirable, and offer to negotiate their

notes or any paper they might issue bearing six per cent. interest for a commission and then he would sell the

paper for a small commission to some one who would welcome a secure investment. Sometimes his father,

sometimes other people, helped him with suggestions as to when and how. Between the two ends he might

make four and five per cent. on the total transaction. In the first year he cleared six thousand dollars over and

above all expenses. That wasn't much, but he was augmenting it in another way which he believed would

Before the first streetcar line, which was a shambling affair, had been laid on Front Street, the streets of

Philadelphia had been crowded with 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 and Sixth Streets (the cars running out one street and back on another) which

had paid splendidly from the start, there were many other lines proposed or under way. The city was as eager

to see streetcars replace omnibuses as it was to see railroads replace canals. There was opposition, of course.

There always is in such cases. The cry of probable monopoly was raised. Disgruntled and defeated omnibus

Cowperwood had implicit faith in the future of the street railway. In support of this belief he risked all he

could spare on new issues of stock shares in new companies. He wanted to be on the inside wherever

possible, always, though this was a little difficult in the matter of the streetrailways, he having been so

young when they started and not having yet arranged his financial connections to make them count for much.

The Fifth and Sixth Street line, which had been but recently started, was paying six hundred dollars a day. A

project for a West Philadelphia line (Walnut and Chestnut) was on foot, as were lines to occupy Second and

Third Streets, Race and Vine, Spruce and Pine, Green and Coates, Tenth and Eleventh, and so forth. They

were engineered and backed by some powerful capitalists who had influence with the State legislature and

could, in spite of great public protest, obtain franchises. Charges of corruption were in the air. It was argued

that the streets were valuable, and that the companies should pay a road tax of a thousand dollars a mile.

Somehow, however, these splendid grants were gotten through, and the public, hearing of the Fifth and Sixth

Street line profits, was eager to invest. Cowperwood was one of these, and when the Second and Third Street

line was engineered, he invested in that and in the Walnut and Chestnut Street line also. He began to have

vague dreams of controlling a line himself some day, but as yet he did not see exactly how it was to be done,

In the midst of this early work he married Mrs. Semple. There was no vast todo about it, as he did not want

any and his bridetobe was nervous, fearsome of public opinion. His family did not entirely approve. She

was too old, his mother and father thought, and then Frank, with his prospects, could have done much better.

His sister Anna fancied that Mrs. Semple was designing, which was, of course, not true. His brothers, Joseph

and Edward, were interested, but not certain as to what they actually thought, since Mrs. Semple was

It was a warm October day when he and Lillian went to the altar, in the First Presbyterian Church of

Callowhill Street. His bride, Frank was satisfied, looked exquisite in a trailing gown of cream lacea

creation that had cost months of labor. His parents, Mrs. Seneca Davis, the Wiggin family, brothers and

sisters, and some friends were present. He was a little opposed to this idea, but Lillian wanted it. He stood up

straight and correct in black broadcloth for the wedding ceremonybecause she wished it, but later changed

to a smart business suit for traveling. He had arranged his affairs for a two weeks' trip to New York and

Boston. They took an afternoon train for New York, which required five hours to reach. When they were

finally alone in the Astor House, New York, after hours of makebelieve and public pretense of indifference,

She met his eagerness with that smiling, tantalizing passivity which he had so much admired but which this

time was tinged strongly with a communicated desire. He thought he should never have enough of her, her

beautiful face, her lovely arms, her smooth, lymphatic body. They were like two children, billing and cooing,

driving, dining, seeing the sights. 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 and possibly a

brood of young Cowperwoods. He was going to work hard and make money. With his means and hers now at

The home atmosphere which they established when they returned from their honeymoon was a great

improvement in taste over that which had characterized the earlier life of Mrs. Cowperwood as Mrs. Semple.

They had decided to occupy her house, on North Front Street, for a while at least. Cowperwood, aggressive in

his current artistic mood, had objected at once after they were engaged to the spirit of the furniture and

decorations, or lack of them, and had suggested that he be allowed to have 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 come

instinctively into sound notions of what was artistic and refined. He had seen so many homes that were more

distinguished and harmonious than his own. One could not walk or drive about Philadelphia without seeing

and being impressed with the general tendency toward a more cultivated and selective social life. Many

excellent and expensive houses were being erected. The front lawn, with some attempt at floral gardening,

was achieving local popularity. In the homes of the Tighes, the Leighs, Arthur Rivers, and others, he had

noticed art objects of some distinctionbronzes, marbles, hangings, pictures, clocks, rugs.

It seemed to him now that his comparatively commonplace house could be made into something charming

and for comparatively little money. The diningroom for instance which, through two plain windows set in a

hat side wall back of the veranda, looked south over a stretch of grass and several trees and bushes to a

dividing fence where the Semple property ended and a neighbor's began, could be made so much more

attractive. That fencesharppointed, gray palings could be torn away and a hedge put in its place. The

wall which divided the diningroom from the parlor could be knocked through and a hanging of some

pleasing character put in its place. A baywindow could be built to replace the two present oblong

windowsa bay which would come down to the floor and open out on the lawn via swiveled,

diamondshaped, leadpaned frames. All this shabby, nondescript furniture, collected from heaven knows

where partly inherited from the Semples and the Wiggins and partly boughtcould be thrown out or sold

and something better and more harmonious introduced. He knew a young man by the name of Ellsworth, an

architect newly graduated from a local school, with whom he had struck up an interesting friendshipone 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 Street which was then being erected,

and which Ellsworth pronounced atrocious, they had fallen to discussing art in general, or the lack of it, in

America. And it occurred to him that Ellsworth was the man to carry out his decorative views to a nicety.

When he suggested the young man to Lillian, she placidly agreed with him and also with his own ideas of

So while they were gone on their honeymoon Ellsworth began the revision on an estimated cost of three

thousand dollars, including the furniture. It was not completed for nearly three weeks after their return; but

when finished made a comparatively new house. The diningroom bay hung low over the grass, as Frank

wished, and the windows were diamondpaned and leaded, swiveled on brass rods. The parlor and

diningroom were separated by sliding doors; but the intention was to hang in this opening a silk hanging

depicting a wedding scene in Normandy. Old English oak was used in the diningroom, an American

imitation of Chippendale and Sheraton for the sittingroom and the bedrooms. There were a few simple

watercolors hung here and there, some bronzes of Hosmer and Powers, a marble venus by Potter, a now

forgotten sculptor, and other objects of artnothing of any distinction. Pleasing, appropriately colored rugs

covered the floor. Mrs. Cowperwood was shocked by the nudity of the Venus which conveyed an atmosphere

of European freedom not common to America; but she said nothing. It was all harmonious and soothing, and

she did not feel herself capable to judge. Frank knew about these things so much better than she did. Then

with a maid and a man of all work installed, a program of entertaining was begun on a small scale.

Those who recall the early years of their married life can best realize the subtle changes which this new

condition brought to Frank, for, like all who accept the hymeneal yoke, he was influenced to a certain extent

by the things with which he surrounded himself. Primarily, from certain traits of his character, one would

have imagined him called to be a citizen of eminent respectability and worth. He appeared to be an ideal

home man. He delighted to return to his wife in the evenings, leaving the crowded downtown section where

traffic clamored and men hurried. Here he could feel that he was wellstationed and physically happy in life.

The thought of the dinnertable with candles upon it (his idea); the thought of Lillian in a trailing gown of

paleblue or green silkhe liked her in those colors; the thought of a large fireplace flaming with solid

lengths of cordwood, and Lillian snuggling in his arms, gripped his immature imagination. As has been said

before, he cared nothing for books, but life, pictures, trees, physical contactthese, in spite of his shrewd

and already gripping financial calculations, held him. To live richly, joyously, fullyhis whole nature craved

And Mrs. Cowperwood, in spite of the difference in their years, appeared to be a fit mate for him at this time.

She was once awakened, and for the time being, clinging, responsive, dreamy. His mood and hers was for a

baby, and in a little while that happy expectation was whispered to him by her. She had half fancied that her

previous barrenness was due to herself, and was rather surprised and delighted at the proof that it was not so.

It opened new possibilitiesa seemingly glorious future of which she was not afraid. He liked it, the idea of

selfduplication. It was almost acquisitive, this thought. For days and weeks and months and years, at least

the first four or five, he took a keen satisfaction in coming home evenings, strolling about the yard, driving

with his wife, having friends in to dinner, talking over with her in an explanatory way the things he intended

to do. She did not understand his financial abstrusities, and he did not trouble to make them clear.

But love, her pretty body, her lips, her quiet mannerthe lure of all these combined, and his two children,

when they cametwo in four yearsheld him. He would dandle Frank, Jr., who was the first to arrive, on

his knee, looking at his chubby feet, his kindling eyes, his almost formless yet budlike mouth, and wonder at

the process by which children came into the world. There was so much to think of in this connectionthe

spermatozoic beginning, the strange period of gestation in women, the danger of disease and delivery. He had

gone through a real period of strain when Frank, Jr., was born, for Mrs. Cowperwood was frightened. He

feared for the beauty of her bodytroubled over the danger of losing her; and he actually endured his first

worry when he stood outside the door the day the child came. Not muchhe was too selfsufficient, too

resourceful; and yet he worried, conjuring up thoughts of death and the end of their present state. Then word

came, after certain piercing, harrowing cries, that all was well, and he was permitted to look at the new

arrival. The experience broadened his conception of things, made him more solid in his judgment of life. That

old conviction of tragedy underlying the surface of things, like wood under its veneer, was emphasized. Little

Frank, and later Lillian, blueeyed and goldenhaired, touched his imagination for a while. There was a good

deal to this home idea, after all. That was the way life was organized, and properly soits cornerstone was

It would be impossible to indicate fully how subtle were the material changes which these years

involvedchanges so gradual that they were, like the lap of soft waters, unnoticeable. Considerablea great

deal, considering how little he had to begin withwealth was added in the next five years. He came, in his

financial world, to know fairly intimately, as commercial relationships go, some of the subtlest characters of

the steadily enlarging financial world. In his days at Tighe's and on the exchange, many curious figures had

been pointed out to himState and city officials of one grade and another who were "making something out

of politics," and some national figures who came from Washington to Philadelphia at times to see Drexel &

Co., Clark & Co., and even Tighe & Co. These men, as he learned, had tips or advance news of legislative or

economic changes which were sure to affect certain stocks or trade opportunities. A young clerk had once

"That's Murtagh, the city treasurer. Say, he don't do anything but play a fine game. All that money to invest,

and he don't have to account for anything 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 bankers and brokers as authorized agents or designated State depositories. The banks

paid no interestsave to the officials personally. They loaned it to certain brokers on the officials' secret

order, and the latter invested it in "sure winners." The bankers got the free use of the money a part of the

time, the brokers another part: the officials made money, and the brokers received a fat commission. There

was a political ring in Philadelphia in which the mayor, certain members of the council, the treasurer, the

chief of police, the commissioner of public works, and others shared. It was a case generally of "You scratch

my back and I'll scratch yours." Cowperwood thought it rather shabby work at first, but many men were

rapidly getting rich and no one seemed to care. The newspapers were always talking about civic patriotism

and pride but never a word about these things. And the men who did them were powerful and respected.

There were many houses, a constantly widening circle, that found him a very trustworthy agent in disposing

of note issues or note payment. He seemed to know so quickly where to go to get the money. From the first

he made it a principle to keep twenty thousand dollars in cash on hand in order to be able to take up a

proposition instantly and without discussion. So, often he was able to say, "Why, certainly, I can do that,"

when otherwise, on the face of things, he would not have been able to do so. He was asked if he would not

handle certain stock transactions on 'change. He had no seat, and he intended not to take any at first; but now

he changed his mind, and bought one, not only in Philadelphia, but in New York also. A certain Joseph

Zimmerman, a drygoods man for whom he had handled various note issues, suggested that he undertake

operating in streetrailway shares for him, and this was the beginning of his return to the floor.

In the meanwhile his family life was changinggrowing, one might have said, finer and more secure. Mrs.

Cowperwood had, for instance, been compelled from time to time to make a subtle readjustment of her

personal relationship with people, as he had with his. When Mr. Semple was alive she had been socially

connected with tradesmen principallyretailers and small wholesalersa very few. Some of the women of

her own church, the First Presbyterian, were friendly with her. There had been church teas and sociables

which she and Mr. Semple attended, and dull visits to his relatives and hers. The Cowperwoods, the

Watermans, and a few families of that caliber, had been the notable exceptions. Now all this was changed.

Young Cowperwood did not care very much for her relatives, and the Semples had been alienated by her

second, and to them outrageous, marriage. His own family was closely interested by ties of affection and

mutual prosperity, but, better than this, he was drawing to himself some really significant personalities. He

brought home with him, sociallynot to talk business, for he disliked that ideabankers, investors,

customers and prospective customers. Out on the Schuylkill, the Wissahickon, and elsewhere, were popular

dining places where one could drive on Sunday. He and Mrs. Cowperwood frequently drove out to Mrs.

Seneca Davis's, to Judge Kitchen's, to the home of Andrew Sharpless, a lawyer whom he knew, to the home

of Harper Steger, his own lawyer, and others. Cowperwood had the gift of geniality. None of these men or

women suspected the depth of his naturehe was thinking, thinking, thinking, but enjoyed life as he went.

One of his earliest and most genuine leanings was toward paintings. He admired nature, but somehow,

without knowing why, he fancied one could best grasp it through the personality of some interpreter, just as

we gain our ideas of law and politics through individuals. Mrs. Cowperwood cared not a whit one way or

another, but she accompanied him to exhibitions, thinking all the while that Frank was a little peculiar. He

tried, because he loved her, to interest her in these things intelligently, but while she pretended slightly, she

The children took up a great deal of her time. However, Cowperwood was not troubled about this. It struck

him as delightful and exceedingly worth while that she should be so devoted. At the same time, her lethargic

manner, vague smile and her sometimes seeming indifference, which sprang largely from a sense of absolute

security, attracted him also. She was so different from him! She took her second marriage quite as she had

taken her firsta solemn fact which contained no possibility of mental alteration. As for himself, however,

he was bustling about in a world which, financially at least, seemed all alterationthere were so many

sudden and almost unheardof changes. He began to look at her at times, with a speculative eyenot very

critically, for he liked herbut with an attempt to weigh her personality. He had known her five years and

more now. What did he know about her? The vigor of youththose first yearshad made up for so many

There came in this period the slow approach, and finally the declaration, of war between the North and the

South, attended with so much excitement that almost all current minds were notably colored by it. It was

terrific. Then came meetings, public and stirring, and riots; the incident of John Brown's body; the arrival of

Lincoln, the great commoner, on his way from Springfield, Illinois, to Washington via Philadelphia, to take

the oath of office; the battle of Bull Run; the battle of Vicksburg; the battle of Gettysburg, and so on.

Cowperwood was only twentyfive at the time, a cool, determined youth, who thought the slave agitation

might be well founded in human rightsno doubt was but exceedingly dangerous to trade. He hoped the

North would win; but it might go hard with him personally and other financiers. He did not care to fight. That

seemed silly for the individual man to do. Others mightthere were many poor, thinminded, halfbaked

creatures who would put themselves up to be shot; but they were only fit to be commanded or shot down. As

for him, his life was sacred to himself and his family and his personal interests. He recalled seeing, one day,

in one of the quiet side streets, as the workingmen were coming home from their work, a small enlisting

squad of soldiers in blue marching enthusiastically along, the Union flag flying, the drummers drumming, the

fifes blowing, the idea being, of course, to so impress the hitherto indifferent or wavering citizen, to exalt him

to such a pitch, that he would lose his sense of proportion, of selfinterest, and, forgetting all wife, parents,

home, and childrenand seeing only the great need of the country, fall in behind and enlist. He saw one

workingman swinging his pail, and evidently not contemplating any such denouement to his day's work,

pause, listen as the squad approached, hesitate as it drew close, and as it passed, with a peculiar look of

uncertainty or wonder in his eyes, fall in behind and march solemnly away to the enlisting quarters. What was

it that had caught this man, Frank asked himself. How was he overcome so easily? He had not intended to go.

His face was streaked with the grease and dirt of his workhe looked like a foundry man or machinist, say

twentyfive years of age. Frank watched the little squad disappear at the end of the street round the corner

This current warspirit was strange. The people seemed to him to want to hear nothing but the sound of the

drum and fife, to see nothing but troops, of which there were thousands now passing through on their way to

the front, carrying cold steel in the shape of guns at their shoulders, to hear of war and the rumors of war. It

was a thrilling sentiment, no doubt, great but unprofitable. It meant selfsacrifice, and he could not see that.

If he went he might be shot, and what would his noble emotion amount to then? He would rather make

money, regulate current political, social and financial affairs. The poor fool who fell in behind the enlisting

squadno, not fool, he would not call him thatthe poor overwrought workingmanwell, Heaven pity

One day he saw Lincolna tall, shambling man, long, bony, gawky, but tremendously impressive. It was a

raw, slushy morning of a late February day, and the great war President was just through with his solemn

pronunciamento in regard to the bonds that might have been strained but must not be broken. As he issued

from the doorway of Independence Hall, that famous birthplace of liberty, his face was set in a sad,

meditative calm. Cowperwood looked at him fixedly as he issued from the doorway surrounded by chiefs of

staff, local dignitaries, detectives, and the curious, sympathetic faces of the public. As he studied the

strangely roughhewn countenance a sense of the great worth and dignity of the man came over him.

"A real man, that," he thought; "a wonderful temperament." His every gesture came upon him with great

force. He watched him enter his carriage, thinking "So that is the railsplitter, the country lawyer. Well, fate

For days the face of Lincoln haunted him, and very often during the war his mind reverted to that singular

figure. It seemed to him unquestionable that fortuitously he had been permitted to look upon one of the

world's really great men. War and statesmanship were not for him; but he knew how important those things

It was while the war was on, and after it was perfectly plain that it was not to be of a few days' duration, that

Cowperwood's first great financial opportunity came to him. There was a strong demand for money at 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 be secured by twentyyear bonds with interest not to exceed seven per cent., and the State

authorized a loan of three millions on much the same security, the first being handled by financiers of Boston,

New York, and Philadelphia, the second by Philadelphia financiers alone. Cowperwood had no hand in this.

He was not big enough. He read in the papers 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 was not included. And yet his soul

yearned to be of them. He noticed how often a rich man's word sufficedno money, no certificates, no

collateral, no anythingjust his word. If Drexel & Co., or Jay Cooke & Co., or Gould & Fiske were rumored

to be behind anything, how secure it was! Jay Cooke, a young man in Philadelphia, had made a great strike

taking this State loan in company with Drexel & Co., and selling it at par. The general opinion was that it

ought to be and could only be sold at ninety. Cooke did not believe this. He believed that State pride and

State patriotism would warrant offering the loan to small banks and private citizens, and that they would

subscribe it fully and more. Events justified Cooke magnificently, and his public reputation was assured.

Cowperwood wished he could make some such strike; but he was too practical to worry over anything save

His chance came about six months later, when it was found that the State would have to have much more

money. Its quota of troops would have to be equipped and paid. There were measures of defense to be taken,

the treasury to be replenished. A call for a loan of twentythree million dollars was finally authorized by the

legislature and issued. There was great talk in the street as to who was to handle itDrexel & Co. and Jay

Cowperwood pondered over this. If he could handle a fraction of this great loan nowhe could not possibly

handle the whole of it, for he had not the necessary connectionshe could add considerably to his reputation

as a broker while making a tidy sum. How much could he handle? That was the question. Who would take

portions of it? His father's bank? Probably. Waterman & Co.? A little. Judge Kitchen? A small fraction. The

MillsDavid Company? Yes. He thought of different individuals and concerns who, for one reason and

anotherpersonal friendship, goodnature, gratitude for past favors, and so onwould take a percentage of

the sevenpercent. bonds through him. He totaled up his possibilities, and discovered that in all likelihood,

with a little preliminary missionary work, he could dispose of one million dollars if personal influence,

One man in particular had grown strong in his estimation as having some subtle political connection not

visible on the surface, and this was Edward Malia Butler. Butler was a contractor, undertaking the

construction of sewers, watermains, foundations for buildings, streetpaving, and the like. In the early days,

long before Cowperwood had known him, he had been a garbagecontractor on his own account. The city at

that time had no extended streetcleaning service, particularly in its outlying sections and some of the older,

poorer regions. Edward Butler, then a poor young Irishman, had begun by collecting and hauling away 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 charge for this service. Then a local political character, a councilman friend of

histhey were both Catholicssaw a new point in the whole thing. Butler could be made official

garbagecollector. The council could vote an annual appropriation for this service. Butler could employ more

wagons than he did nowdozens of them, scores. Not only that, but no other garbagecollector would be

allowed. There were others, but the official contract awarded him would also, officially, be the end of the life

of any and every disturbing rival. A certain amount of the profitable proceeds would have to be set aside to

assuage the feelings of those who were not contractors. Funds would have to be loaned at election time to

certain individuals and organizationsbut no matter. The amount would be small. So Butler and Patrick

Gavin Comiskey, the councilman (the latter silently) entered into business relations. Butler gave up driving a

wagon himself. He hired a young man, a smart Irish boy of his neighborhood, Jimmy Sheehan, to be his

assistant, superintendent, stableman, bookkeeper, and what not. Since he soon began to make between four

and five thousand a year, where before he made two thousand, he moved into a brick house in an outlying

section of the south side, and sent his children to school. Mrs. Butler gave up making soap and feeding pigs.

He could neither read nor write at first; but now he knew how, of course. He had learned from association

with Mr. Comiskey that there were other forms of contractingsewers, watermains, gasmains,

streetpaving, and the like. Who better than Edward Butler to do it? He knew the councilmen, many of them.

Het met them in the back rooms of saloons, on Sundays and Saturdays at political picnics, at election councils

and conferences, for as a beneficiary of the city's largess he was expected to contribute not only money, but

advice. Curiously he had developed a strange political wisdom. He knew a successful man or a coming man

when he saw one. So many of his bookkeepers, superintendents, timekeepers had graduated into councilmen

and state legislators. His nomineessuggested to political conferenceswere so often known to make good.

First he came to have influence in his councilman's ward, then in his legislative district, then in the city

councils of his partyWhig, of courseand then he was supposed to have an organization.

Mysterious forces worked for him in council. He was awarded significant contracts, and he always bid. The

garbage business was now a thing of the past. His eldest boy, Owen, was a member of the State legislature

and a partner in his business affairs. His second son, Callum, was a clerk 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 and youngest child, thirteen years old, was in attendance

at a local private school conducted by a Catholic sisterhood. The Butler family had moved away from South

Philadelphia into Girard Avenue, near the twelve hundreds, where a new and rather interesting social life was

beginning. They were not of it, but Edward Butler, contractor, now fiftyfive years of age, worth, say, five

hundred thousand dollars, had many political and financial friends. No longer a "rough neck," but a solid,

reddishfaced man, slightly tanned, with broad shoulders and a solid chest, gray eyes, gray hair, a typically

Irish face made wise and calm and undecipherable by much experience. His big hands and feet indicated a

day when he had not worn the best English cloth suits and tanned leather, but his presence was not in any

way offensiverather the other way about. Though still possessed of a brogue, he was softspoken,

He had been one of the first to become interested in the development of the streetcar system and had come

to the conclusion, as had Cowperwood and many others, that it was going to be a great thing. The money

returns on the stocks or shares he had been induced to buy had been ample 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 and another, for he believed they all had a future, and most

of all he wanted to get control of a line or two. In connection with this idea he was looking for some reliable

young man, honest and capable, who would work under his direction and do what he said. Then he learned of

Cowperwood responded quickly, for he knew of Butler, his rise, his connections, his force. He called at the

house as directed, one cold, crisp February morning. He remembered the appearance of the street

afterwardbroad, brickpaved sidewalks, macadamized roadway, powdered over with a light snow and set

with young, leafless, scrubby trees and lampposts. Butler's house was not newhe had bought and repaired

itbut it was not an unsatisfactory specimen of the architecture of the time. It was fifty feet wide, four

stories tall, of graystone and with four wide, white stone steps leading up to the door. The window arches,

framed in white, had Ushaped keystones. There were curtains of lace and a glimpse of red plush through the

windows, which gleamed warm against the cold and snow outside. A trim Irish maid came to the door and he

In a little while he was asked to come upstairs, where he found Butler in a somewhat commerciallooking

room. It had a desk, an office chair, some leather furnishings, and a bookcase, but no completeness or

symmetry as either an office or a living room. There were several pictures on the wallan impossible oil

painting, for one thing, dark and 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 reddishgold hair, another with what appeared to be silky brown. The beautiful silver effect of the

daguerreotype had been tinted. They were pretty girls, healthy, smiling, Celtic, their heads close together,

their eyes looking straight out at you. He admired them casually, and fancied they must be Butler's daughters.

"Mr. Cowperwood?" inquired Butler, uttering the name fully with a peculiar accent on the vowels. (He was a

slowmoving man, solemn and deliberate.) Cowperwood noticed that his body was hale and strong like

seasoned hickory, tanned by wind and rain. The flesh of his cheeks was pulled taut and there was nothing soft

"I have a little matter of stocks to talk over with you" ("matter" almost sounded like "mather"), "and I thought

you'd better come here rather than that I should come down to your office. We can be more privatelike, and,

"I happen to be interested just at present in pickin' up certain streetrailway stocks on 'change. I'll tell you

"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 I say, I'm interested in pickin' up a few stocks on 'change; but, to tell you the

truth, I'm more interested in findin' some clever young felly like yourself through whom I can work. One

thing leads to another, you know, in this world." And he looked at his visitor noncommittally, and yet with a

"Well," Butler meditated, half to himself, half to Cowperwood, "there are a number of things that a bright

young man could do for me in the street if he were so minded. I have two bright boys of my own, but I don't

want them to become stockgamblers, and I don't know that they would or could if I wanted them to. But this

isn't a matter of stockgambling. I'm pretty busy as it is, and, as I said awhile ago, I'm getting along. I'm not

as light on my toes as I once was. But if I had the right sort of a young manI've been looking into your

record, by the way, never fearhe might handle a number of little thingsinvestments and loanswhich

might bring us each a little somethin'. Sometimes the young men around town ask advice of me in one way

He paused and looked tantalizingly out of the window, knowing full well Cowperwood was greatly

interested, and that this talk of political influence and connections could only whet his appetite. Butler wanted

him to see clearly that fidelity was the point in this casefidelity, tact, subtlety, and concealment.

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

Butler felt the force of the temperament and the argument. He liked the young man's poise and balance. A

number of people had spoken of Cowperwood to him. (It was now Cowperwood & Co. The company was

fiction purely.) He asked him something about the street; how the market was running; what he knew about

streetrailways. Finally he outlined his plan of buying all he could of the stock of two given linesthe Ninth

and Tenth and the Fifteenth and Sixteenthwithout attracting any attention, if possible. It was to be done

slowly, part on 'change, part from individual holders. He did not tell him that there was a certain amount of

legislative pressure he hoped to bring to bear to get him franchises for extensions in the regions beyond

where the lines now ended, in order that when the time came for them to extend their facilities they would

have to see him or his sons, who might be large minority stockholders in these very concerns. It was a

farsighted 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 you may suggest," observed Cowperwood. "I

can't say that I have so much of a business as yetmerely prospects. But my connections are good. I am now

a member of the New York and Philadelphia exchanges. Those who have dealt with me seem to like the

"Very well, then; whenever you have a commission you can call at my office, or write, or I will call here. I

will give you my secret operating code, so that anything you say will be strictly confidential."

"Well, we'll not say anything more now. In a few days I'll have somethin' 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, and

Cowperwood went out, Butler accompanying him to the door. As he did so a young girl bounded in from the

street, redcheeked, blueeyed, wearing a scarlet cape with the peaked hood thrown over her redgold hair.

She gave her father, and incidentally Cowperwood, a gleaming, radiant, inclusive smile. Her teeth were

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

Cowperwood, warm with this enhancing of his financial prospects, went down the steps; but incidentally he

spared a passing thought for the gay spirit of youth that had manifested itself in this redcheeked maiden.

What a bright, healthy, bounding girl! Her voice had the subtle, vigorous ring of fifteen or sixteen. She was

all vitality. What a fine catch for some young fellow some day, and her father would make him rich, no

It was to Edward Malia Butler that Cowperwood turned now, some nineteen months later when he was

thinking of the influence that might bring him an award of a portion of the State issue of bonds. Butler could

probably be interested to take some of them himself, or could help him place some. He had come to like

Cowperwood very much and was now being carried on the latter's books as a prospective purchaser of large

blocks of stocks. And Cowperwood liked this great solid Irishman. He liked his history. He had met Mrs.

Butler, a rather fat and phlegmatic Irish woman with a world of hard sense who cared nothing at all for show

and who still liked to go into the kitchen and superintend the cooking. He had met 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

There was a cozy gratefire burning in Butler's improvised private office when Cowperwood called. Spring

was coming on, but the evenings were cool. The older man invited Cowperwood to make himself

comfortable in one of the large leather chairs before the fire and then proceeded to listen to his recital of what

"Well, now, that isn't so easy," he commented at the end. "You ought to know more about that than I do. I'm

"It's a matter of influence," went on Cowperwood. "And favoritism. That I know. Drexel & Company and

Cooke & Company have connections at Harrisburg. They have men of their own looking after their interests.

The attorneygeneral and the State treasurer are hand in glove with them. Even if I put in a bid, and can

demonstrate that I can handle the loan, it won't help me to get it. Other people have done that. I have to have

"Them things," Butler said, "is easy enough if you know the right parties to approach. Now there's Jimmy

Oliverhe ought to know something about that." Jimmy Oliver was the whilom district attorney serving at

this time, and incidentally free adviser to Mr. Butler in many ways. He was also, accidentally, a warm

"Five million!" Butler sat up. "Man, what are you talking about? That's a good deal of money. Where are you

"I want to bid for five million," assuaged Cowperwood, softly. "I only want one million but I want the

prestige of putting in a bona fide bid for five million. It will do me good on the street."

"Five million! Prestige! You want one million. Well, now, that's different. That's not such a bad idea. We

And Cowperwood felt confident when he left the house that evening that Butler would not fail him but would

set the wheels working. Therefore, he was not surprised, and knew exactly what it meant, when a few days

later he was introduced to City Treasurer Julian Bode, who promised to introduce him to State Treasurer Van

Nostrand and to see that his claims to consideration were put before the people. "Of course, you know," he

said to Cowperwood, in the presence of Butler, for it was at the latter's home that the conference took place,

"this banking crowd is very powerful. You know who they are. They don't want any interference in this bond

issue business. I was talking to Terrence Relihan, who represents them up there"meaning Harrisburg, the

State capital"and he says they won't stand for it at all. You may have trouble right here in Philadelphia

after you get itthey're pretty powerful, you know. Are you sure just where you can place it?"

"Well, the best thing in my judgment is not to say anything at all. Just put in your bid. Van Nostrand, with the

governor's approval, will make the award. We can fix the governor, I think. After you get it they may talk to

Cowperwood smiled his inscrutable smile. There were so many ins and outs to this financial life. It was an

endless network of underground holes, along which all sorts of influences were moving. A little wit, a little

nimbleness, a little lucktime and opportunitythese sometimes availed. Here he was, through his ambition

to get on, and nothing else, coming into contact with the State treasurer and the governor. They were going to

consider his case personally, because he demanded that it be considerednothing more. Others more

influential than himself had quite as much right to a share, but they didn't take it. Nerve, ideas,

He went away thinking how surprised Drexel & Co. and Cooke & Co. would be to see him appearing in the

field as a competitor. In his home, in a little room on the second floor next his bedroom, which he had fixed

up as an office with a desk, a safe, and a leather chair, he consulted his resources. There were so many things

to think of. He went over again the list of people whom he had seen and whom he could count on to

subscribe, and in so far as that was concernedthe award of one million dollarshe was safe. He figured to

make two per cent. on the total transaction, or twenty thousand dollars. If he did he was going to buy a house

out on Girard Avenue beyond the Butlers', or, better yet, buy a piece 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 to him,

and they could live side by side. His own business, aside from this deal, would yield him ten thousand dollars

this year. His streetcar investments, aggregating fifty thousand, were paying six per cent. His wife's

property, represented by this house, some government bonds, and some real estate in West Philadelphia

amounted to forty thousand more. Between them they were rich; but he expected to be much richer. All he

needed now was to keep cool. If he succeeded in this bondissue 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,

"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 arranged at last. I think I'll get a million of it, anyhow. That'll mean twenty

thousand. If I do we'll build out on Girard Avenue. That's going to be the street. The college is making that

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

"We'll have to show the Butlers some attention from now on. He's been very nice to me and he's going to be

usefulI can see that. He asked me to bring you over some time. We must go. Be nice to his wife. He can do

a lot for me if he wants to. He has two daughters, too. We'll have to have them over here."

"I'll have them to dinner sometime," she agreed cheerfully and helpfully, "and I'll stop and take Mrs. Butler

She had already learned that the Butlers were rather showythe younger generationthat they were

sensitive as to their lineage, and that money in their estimation was supposed to make up for any deficiency

in any other respect. "Butler himself is a very presentable man," Cowperwood had once remarked to her, "but

Mrs. Butlerwell, she's all right, but she's a little commonplace. She's a fine woman, though, I think,

goodnatured and goodhearted." He cautioned her not to overlook Aileen and Norah, because the Butlers,

Mrs. Cowperwood at this time was thirtytwo years old; Cowperwood twentyseven. The birth and care of

two children had made some difference in her looks. She was no longer as softly pleasing, more angular. Her

face was hollowcheeked, like so many of Rossetti's and BurneJones's women. Her health was really not as

good as it had beenthe care of two children and a late undiagnosed tendency toward gastritis having

reduced her. In short she was a little run down nervously and suffered from fits of depression. Cowperwood

had noticed this. He tried to be gentle and considerate, but he was too much of a utilitarian and

practicalminded observer not to realize that he was likely to have a sickly wife on his hands later. Sympathy

and affection were great things, but desire and charm must endure or one was compelled to be sadly

conscious of their loss. So often now he saw young girls who were quite in his mood, and who were

exceedingly robust and joyous. It was fine, advisable, practical, to adhere to the virtues as laid down in 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 another woman? Supposing he found some one? He pondered those things between

hours 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 be careful, though. Tonight, as he sat on the side of his wife's bed, he was thinking

somewhat of this, for he had seen Aileen Butler again, playing and singing at her piano as he passed the

parlor door. She was like a bright bird radiating health and enthusiasma reminder of youth in general.

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

The bond issue, when it came, was a curious compromise; for, although it netted him his twenty thousand

dollars and more and served to introduce him to the financial notice of Philadelphia and the State of

Pennsylvania, it did not permit him to manipulate the subscriptions as he had planned. The State treasurer

was seen by him at the office of a local lawyer of great repute, where he worked when in the city. He was

gracious to Cowperwood, because he had to be. He explained to him just how things were regulated at

Harrisburg. The big financiers were looked to for campaign funds. They were represented by henchmen in

the State assembly and senate. The governor and the treasurer were footfree; but there were other

influencesprestige, friendship, social power, political ambitions, etc. The big men might constitute a close

corporation, which in itself was unfair; but, after all, they were the legitimate sponsors for big money loans of

this kind. The State had to keep on good terms with them, especially in times like these. Seeing that Mr.

Cowperwood was so well able to dispose of the million he expected to get, it would be perfectly all right to

award it to him; but Van Nostrand had a counterproposition to make. Would Cowperwood, if the financial

crowd now handling the matter so desired, turn over his award to them for a considerationa sum equal to

what he expected to makein the event the award was made to him? Certain financiers desired this. It was

dangerous to oppose them. They were perfectly willing he should put in a bid for five million and get the

prestige of that; to have him awarded one million and get the prestige of that was well enough also, but they

desired to handle the twentythree million dollars in an unbroken lot. It looked better. He need not be

advertised as having withdrawn. They would be content to have him achieve the glory of having done 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 street privately that he had been coerced, for a consideration, into giving up, others would be deterred

from imitating him in the future. Besides, if he refused, they could cause him trouble. His loans might be

called. Various banks might not be so friendly in the future. His constituents might be warned against him in

Cowperwood saw the point. He acquiesced. It was something to have brought 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 the

award and twenty thousand or thereabouts and withdraw. The State treasurer was delighted. It solved a

"I'm glad to have seen you," he said. "I'm glad we've met. I'll drop in and talk with you some time when I'm

The State treasurer, for some odd reason, felt that Mr. Cowperwood was a man who could make him some

money. His eye was so keen; his expression was so alert, and yet so subtle. He told the governor and some

So the award was finally made; Cowperwood, after some private negotiations in which he met the officers of

Drexel & Co., was paid his twenty thousand dollars and turned his share of the award over to them. New

faces showed up in his office now from time to timeamong them that of Van Nostrand and one Terrence

Relihan, a representative of some other political forces at Harrisburg. He was introduced to the governor one

day at lunch. His name was mentioned in the papers, and his prestige grew rapidly.

Immediately he began working on plans with young Ellsworth for his new house. He was going to build

something exceptional this time, he told Lillian. They were going to have to do some entertaining

entertaining on 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 that he also was willing to move. The son's prosperity had

redounded to the credit of the father. The directors of the bank were becoming much more friendly 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 was going to be made president. Frank was a large borrower from his father's bank. By the same

token he was a large depositor. His connection with Edward Butler was significant. He sent his father's bank

certain accounts which it otherwise could not have secured. The city treasurer became interested in it, and the

State treasurer. Cowperwood, Sr., stood to earn twenty thousand a year as president, and he owed much of it

to his son. The two families were now on the best of terms. Anna, now twentyone, and Edward and Joseph

frequently spent the night at Frank's house. Lillian called almost daily at his mother's. There was much

interchange of family gossip, and it was thought well to build side by side. So Cowperwood, Sr., bought fifty

feet of ground next to his son's thirtyfive, and together they commenced the erection of two charming,

commodious homes, which were to be connected by a covered passageway, or pergola, which could be

The most popular local stone, a green granite was chosen; but Mr. Ellsworth promised to present it in such a

way that it would be especially pleasing. Cowperwood, Sr., decided that he could afford to spent

seventyfive thousand dollarshe was now worth two hundred and fifty thousand; and Frank decided that

he could risk fifty, seeing that he could raise money on a mortgage. He planned at the same time to remove

his office farther south on Third Street and occupy a building of his own. He knew where an option was to be

had on a twentyfivefoot building, which, though old, could be given a new brownstone front and made

very significant. He saw in his mind's eye a handsome building, fitted with an immense plateglass window;

inside his hardwood fixtures visible; 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

During all the time that Cowperwood had been building himself up thus steadily the great war of the rebellion

had been fought almost to its close. It was now October, 1864. The capture of Mobile and the Battle of the

Wilderness were fresh memories. Grant was now before Petersburg, and the great general of the South, Lee,

was making that last brilliant and hopeless display of his ability as a strategist and a soldier. There had been

timesas, for instance, during the long, dreary period in which the country was waiting for Vicksburg to

fall, for the Army of the Potomac to prove victorious, when Pennsylvania was invaded by Leewhen stocks

fell and commercial conditions were very bad generally. In times like these Cowperwood's own manipulative

ability was taxed to the utmost, and he had to watch every hour to see that his fortune was not destroyed by

His personal attitude toward the war, however, and aside from his patriotic feeling that the Union ought to be

maintained, was that it was destructive and wasteful. He was by no means so wanting in patriotic emotion

and sentiment but that he could feel that the Union, as it had now come to be, spreading its great length from

the Atlantic to the Pacific and from the snows of Canada to the Gulf, was worth while. Since his birth in 1837

he had seen the nation reach that physical growthbarring Alaska which it now possesses. Not so much

earlier than his youth Florida had been added to the Union by purchase from Spain; Mexico, after the unjust

war of 1848, had ceded Texas and the territory to the West. The boundary disputes between England and the

United States in the far Northwest had been finally adjusted. To a man with great social and financial

imagination, these facts could not help but be significant; and if they did nothing more, they gave him a sense

of the boundless commercial possibilities which existed potentially in so vast a realm. His was not the order

of speculative financial enthusiasm which, in the type known as the "promoter," sees endless possibilities for

gain in every unexplored rivulet and prairie reach; but the very vastness of the country suggested possibilities

which he hoped might remain undisturbed. A territory covering the length of a whole zone and between two

seas, seemed to him to possess potentialities which it could not retain if the States of the South were lost.

At the same time, the freedom of the negro was not a significant point with him. He had observed that race

from his boyhood with considerable interest, and had been struck with virtues and defects which seemed

He was not at all sure, for instance, that the negroes could be made into anything much more significant than

they were. At any rate, it was a long uphill struggle for them, of which many future generations would not

witness the conclusion. He had no particular quarrel with the theory that they should be free; he saw no

particular reason why the South should not protest vigorously against the destruction of their property and

their system. It was too bad that the negroes as slaves should be abused in some instances. He felt sure that

that ought to be adjusted in some way; but beyond that he could not see that there was any great ethical basis

for the contentions of their sponsors. The vast majority of men and women, as he could see, were not

essentially above slavery, even when they had all the guarantees of a constitution formulated to prevent it.

There was mental slavery, the slavery of the weak mind and the weak body. He followed the contentions of

such men as Sumner, Garrison, Phillips, and Beecher, with considerable interest; but at no time could he see

that the problem was a vital one for him. He did not care to be a soldier or an officer of soldiers; he had no

gift for polemics; his mind was not of the disputatious ordernot even in the realm of finance. He was

concerned only to see what was of vast advantage to him, and to devote all his attention to that. This

fratricidal war in the nation could not help him. It really delayed, he thought, the true commercial and

financial adjustment of the country, and he hoped that it would soon end. He was not of those who

complained bitterly of the excessive war taxes, though he knew them to be trying to many. Some of the

stories of death and disaster moved him greatly; but, alas, they were among the unaccountable fortunes of

life, and could not be remedied by him. So he had gone his way day by day, watching the 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 had taken no part in it, and he

felt sure that he could only rejoice in its conclusionnot as a patriot, but as a financier. It was wasteful,

The months proceeded apace. A local election intervened and there was a new city treasurer, a new assessor

of taxes, and a new mayor; but Edward Malia Butler continued to have apparently the same influence as

before. The Butlers and the Cowperwoods had become quite friendly. Mrs. Butler rather liked Lillian, though

they were of different religious beliefs; and they went driving or shopping together, the younger woman a

little critical and ashamed of the elder because of her poor grammar, her Irish accent, her plebeian tastesas

though the Wiggins had not been as plebeian as any. On the other hand the old lady, as she was compelled to

admit, was goodnatured and goodhearted. She loved to give, since she had plenty, and sent presents here

and there to Lillian, the children, and others. "Now youse must come over and take dinner with us"the

Butlers had arrived at the eveningdinner periodor "Youse must come drive with me tomorrow."

"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 was eighteen now, with a figure which was subtly provocative. Her manner

was boyish, hoydenish at times, and although conventtrained, she was inclined to balk at restraint in any

form. But there was a softness lurking in her blue eyes that was most sympathetic and human.

St. Timothy's and the convent school in Germantown had been the choice of her parents for her

educationwhat they called a good Catholic education. She had learned a great deal about the theory and

forms of the Catholic ritual, but she could not understand them. The church, with its tall, dimly radiant

windows, its high, white altar, its figure of St. Joseph on one side and the Virgin Mary on the other, clothed

in goldenstarred robes of blue, wearing haloes and carrying scepters, had impressed her greatly. The church

as a wholeany Catholic churchwas beautiful to look at soothing. The altar, during high mass, lit with

a halfhundred or more candles, and dignified and made impressive by the rich, lacy vestments of the priests

and the acolytes, the impressive needlework and gorgeous colorings of the amice, chasuble, cope, stole, and

maniple, took her fancy and held her eye. Let us say there was always lurking in her a sense of grandeur

coupled with a love of color and a love of love. From the first she was somewhat sexconscious. She had no

desire for accuracy, no desire for precise information. Innate sensuousness rarely has. It basks in sunshine,

bathes in color, dwells in a sense of the impressive and the gorgeous, and rests there. Accuracy is not

necessary except in the case of aggressive, acquisitive natures, when it manifests itself in a desire to seize.

True controlling sensuousness cannot be manifested in the most active dispositions, nor again in the most

There is need of defining these statements in so far as they apply to Aileen. It would scarcely be fair to

describe her nature as being definitely sensual at this time. It was too rudimentary. Any harvest is of long

growth. The confessional, dim on Friday and Saturday evenings, when the church was lighted by but a few

lamps, and the priest's warnings, penances, and ecclesiastical forgiveness whispered through the narrow

lattice, moved her as something subtly pleasing. She was not afraid 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 old men hobbling into

church, bowed in prayer, murmuring over their beads, were objects of curious interest like the woodcarvings

in the peculiar array of woodreliefs emphasizing the Stations of the Cross. She herself had 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 came to hear their confessions at

school, interested her as being kind and sweet. His forgiveness and blessing seemed sincerebetter than her

prayers, which she went through perfunctorily. And then there was a young priest at St. Timothy's, Father

David, hale and rosy, with a curl of black hair over his forehead, and an almost jaunty way of wearing his

priestly hat, who came down the aisle Sundays sprinkling holy water with a definite, distinguished sweep of

the hand, who took her fancy. He heard confessions and now and then she liked to whisper her strange

thoughts to him while she actually speculated on what he might privately be thinking. She could not, if she

tried, associate him with any divine authority. He was too young, too human. There was something a little

malicious, teasing, in the way she delighted to tell him about herself, and then walk demurely, repentantly

out. At St. Agatha's she had been rather a difficult person to deal with. She was, as the good sisters of the

school had readily perceived, too full of life, too active, to be easily 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 her unless you use a good deal of tact. You may have

to coax her with little gifts. You will get on better." So Sister Sempronia had sought to find what Aileen was

most interested in, and bribe her therewith. Being intensely conscious of her father's competence, and vain of

her personal superiority, it was not so easy to do. She had wanted to go home occasionally, though; she had

wanted to be allowed to wear the sister's rosary of large beads with its pendent cross of ebony and its silver

Christ, and this was held up as a great privilege. For keeping quiet in class, walking softly, and speaking

softlyas much as it was in her to dofor not stealing into other girl's rooms after lights were out, and for

abandoning crushes on this and that sympathetic sister, these awards and 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 restgrammar, spelling, sewing, church

and general historyshe loathed. Deportmentwell, there was something in that. She had liked the rather

exaggerated curtsies they taught her, and she had often reflected on how she would use them when she

When she came out into life the little social distinctions which have been indicated began to impress

themselves on her, and she wished sincerely that her father would build a better homea mansionsuch as

those she saw elsewhere, and launch her properly in society. Failing in that, she could think of nothing save

clothes, jewels, ridinghorses, carriages, and the appropriate changes of costume which were allowed her for

these. Her family could not entertain in any distinguished way where they were, and so already, at eighteen,

she was beginning to feel the sting of a blighted ambition. She was eager for life. How was she to get it?

Her room was a study in the foibles of an eager and ambitious mind. It was full of clothes, beautiful things for

all occasions jewelrywhich she had small opportunity to wearshoes, stockings, lingerie, laces. In a

crude way she had made a study of perfumes and cosmetics, though she needed the latter not at all, and these

were present in abundance. She was not very orderly, and she loved lavishness of display; and her curtains,

hangings, table ornaments, and pictures inclined to gorgeousness, which did not go well with the rest of the

Aileen always reminded Cowperwood of a highstepping horse without a checkrein. He met her at various

times, shopping with her mother, out driving with her father, and he was always interested and amused at the

affected, bored tone she assumed before himthe "Oh, dear! Oh, dear! Life is so tiresome, don't you know,"

when, as a matter of fact, every moment of it was of thrilling interest to her. Cowperwood took her mental

measurement exactly. A girl with a high sense of life in her, romantic, full of the thought of love and its

possibilities. As he looked at her he had the sense of seeing the best that nature can do when she attempts to

produce physical perfection. The thought came to him that some lucky young dog would marry her pretty

soon and carry her away; but whoever secured her would have to hold her by affection and subtle flattery and

"The little snip"she was not at all"she thinks the sun rises and sets 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. Her

"Oh, don't be too hard on her," coaxed Cowperwood diplomatically. He already liked Aileen very much. "She

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

"I don't see anything so very much the matter with her," insisted Cowperwood. "She's bright and

goodlooking. Of course, she's only a girl, and a little vain, but she'll come out of that. She isn't without sense

Aileen, as he knew, was most friendly to him. She liked him. She made a point of playing the piano and

singing for him in his home, and she sang only when he was there. There was something about his steady,

even gait, his stocky body and handsome head, which attracted her. In spite of her vanity and egotism, she

felt a little overawed before him at timeskeyed up. She seemed to grow gayer and more brilliant in his

The most futile thing in this world is any attempt, perhaps, at exact definition of character. All individuals are

In the case of Aileen Butler it would be quite impossible to give an exact definition. Intelligence, of a raw,

crude order she had certainlyalso a native force, tamed somewhat by the doctrines and conventions of

current society, still showed clear at times in an elemental and not entirely unattractive way. At this time she

was only eighteen years of agedecidedly attractive from the point of view of a man of Frank

Cowperwood's temperament. She supplied something he had not previously known or consciously craved.

Vitality and vivacity. No other woman or girl whom he had ever known had possessed so much innate force

as she. Her redgold hairnot so red as decidedly golden with a suggestion of red in itlooped itself in

heavy folds about her forehead and sagged at the base of her neck. She had a beautiful nose, not sensitive, but

straightcut with small nostril openings, and eyes that were big and yet noticeably sensuous. They were, to

him, a pleasing shade of bluegrayblue, and her toilet, due to her temperament, of course, suggested almost

undue luxury, the bangles, anklets, earrings, and breastplates of the odalisque, and yet, of course, they

were not there. She confessed to him years afterward that she would have loved to have stained her nails and

painted the palms of her hands with madderred. Healthy and vigorous, she was chronically interested in

The fact that she could ride in a carriage, live in a fine home on Girard Avenue, visit such homes as those of

the Cowperwoods and others, was of great weight; and yet, even at this age, she realized that life was more

But these facts of wealth and advantage gripped her; and when she sat at the piano and played or rode in her

carriage or walked or stood before her mirror, she was conscious of her figure, her charms, what they meant

to men, how women envied her. Sometimes she looked at poor, hollowchested or homelyfaced girls and

felt sorry for them; at other times she flared into inexplicable opposition to some handsome girl or woman

who dared to brazen her socially or physically. There were such girls of the better families who, in Chestnut

Street, in the expensive shops, or on the drive, on horseback or in carriages, tossed their heads and indicated

as well as human motions can that they were betterbred and knew it. When this happened each stared

defiantly at the other. She wanted ever so much to get up in the world, and yet nambypamby men of better

social station than herself did not attract her at all. She wanted a man. Now and then there was one

"something like," but not entirely, who appealed to her, but most of them were politicians or legislators,

acquaintances of her father, and socially nothing at alland so they wearied and disappointed her. Her father

did not know the truly elite. But Mr. Cowperwoodhe seemed so refined, so forceful, and so reserved. She

The development of Cowperwood as Cowperwood & Co. following his arresting bond venture, finally

brought him into relationship with one man who was to play an important part in his life, morally, financially,

and in other ways. This was George W. Stener, the new city treasurerelect, who, to begin with, was a puppet

in the hands of other men, but who, also in spite of this fact, became a personage of considerable importance,

for the simple reason that he was weak. Stener had been engaged in the real estate and insurance business in a

small way before he was made city treasurer. He was one of those men, of whom there are so many

thousands in every large community, with no breadth of vision, no real subtlety, no craft, no great skill in

anything. You would never hear a new idea emanating from Stener. He never had one in his 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 of body. His eye was of vague grayblue; his hair a dusty lightbrown and thin. His mouththere

was nothing impressive there. He was quite tall, nearly six feet, with moderately broad shoulders, but his

figure was anything but shapely. He seemed to stoop a little, his stomach was the least bit protuberant, and he

talked commonplaces the small change of newspaper and street and business gossip. People liked him in

his own neighborhood. He was thought to be honest and kindly; and he was, as far as he knew. His wife and

four children were as average and insignificant as 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 public notice by certain political methods which had existed in Philadelphia

practically unmodified for the previous half hundred years. First, because he was of the same political faith as

the dominant local political party, he had become known to the local councilman and wardleader of his

ward as a faithful soulone useful in the matter of drumming up votes. And nextalthough absolutely

without value as a speaker, for he had no ideasyou could send him from door to door, asking the grocer

and the blacksmith and the butcher how he felt about things and he would make friends, and in the long run

predict fairly accurately the probable vote. Furthermore, you could dole him out a few platitudes and he

would repeat them. The Republican party, which was the newborn party then, but dominant in Philadelphia,

needed your vote; it was necessary to keep the rascally Democrats outhe could scarcely have said why.

They had been for slavery. They were for free trade. It never once occurred to him that these things had

nothing to do with the local executive and financial administration of Philadelphia. Supposing they didn't?

In Philadelphia at this time a certain United States Senator, one Mark Simpson, together with Edward Malia

Butler and Henry A. Mollenhauer, a rich coal dealer and investor, were supposed to, and did, control jointly

the political destiny of the city. They had representatives, benchmen, spies, toolsa great company. Among

In scarcely any other city save this, where the inhabitants were of a deadly average in so far as being

commonplace was concerned, could such a man as Stener have been elected city treasurer. The rank and file

did not, except in rare instances, make up their political program. An inside ring had this matter in charge.

Certain positions were allotted to such and such men or to such and such factions of the party for such and

In due course of time, therefore, George W. Stener had become persona grata to Edward Strobik, a quondam

councilman who afterward became ward leader and still later president of council, and who, in private life

was a stonedealer and owner of a brickyard. Strobik was a benchman of Henry A. Mollenhauer, the hardest

and coldest of all three of the political leaders. The latter had things to get from council, and Strobik was his

tool. He had Stener elected; and because he was faithful in voting as he was told the latter was later made an

Here he came under the eyes of Edward Malia Butler, and was slightly useful to him. Then the central

political committee, with Butler in charge, decided that some nice, docile man who would at the same time be

absolutely faithful was needed for city treasurer, and Stener was put on the ticket. He knew little of finance,

but was an excellent bookkeeper; and, anyhow, was not corporation counsel Regan, another political tool of

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 to being elected, and so, after a few weeks of exceedingly trying platform experiences,

in which he had stammered through platitudinous declarations that the city needed to be honestly

Now it wouldn't have made so much difference what George W. Stener's executive and financial

qualifications for the position were, but at this time the city of Philadelphia was still hobbling along under

perhaps as evil a financial system, or lack of it, as any city ever enduredthe assessor and the treasurer

being allowed to collect and hold 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 be invested by them at interest for the city's benefit.

Rather, all they were expected to do, apparently, was to restore the principal and that which was with them

when they entered or left office. It was not understood or publicly demanded that the moneys so collected, or

drawn from any source, be maintained intact in the vaults of the city treasury. They could be loaned out,

deposited in banks or used to further private interests of any one, so long as the principal was returned, and

no one was the wiser. Of course, this theory of finance was not publicly sanctioned, but it was known

Cowperwood, in approaching Edward Malia Butler, had been unconsciously let in on this atmosphere of

erratic and unsatisfactory speculation without really knowing it. When he had left the office of Tighe & Co.,

seven years before, it was with the idea that henceforth and forever he would have nothing to do with the

stockbrokerage proposition; but now behold 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., and he was eager to satisfy the world of

new and powerful individuals who by degrees 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 soothed himself with the thought that in all these

years he had never gambled for himself, but had always acted strictly for others instead. But now here was

George W. Stener with a proposition which was not quite the same thing as stockgambling, 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 had been in the habit, as a corporation, when there were no available

funds in the treasury, of issuing what were known as city warrants, which were nothing more than notes or

I.O.U.'s bearing six per cent. interest, and payable sometimes in thirty days, sometimes in three, sometimes in

six monthsall depending on the amount and how soon the city treasurer thought there would be sufficient

money in the treasury to take them up and cancel them. Small tradesmen and large contractors were

frequently paid in this way; the small tradesman who sold supplies to the city institutions, for instance, being

compelled to discount his notes at the bank, if he needed ready money, usually for ninety cents on the dollar,

while the large contractor could afford to hold his and wait. It can readily be seen that this might well work to

the disadvantage of the small dealer and merchant, and yet prove quite a fine thing for a large contractor or

notebroker, for the city was sure to pay the warrants at some time, and six per cent. interest was a fat rate,

considering the absolute security. A banker or broker who gathered up these things from small tradesmen at

Originally, in all probability, there was no intention on the part of the city treasurer to do any one an injustice,

and it is likely that there really were no funds to pay with at the time. However that may have been, there was

later no excuse for issuing the warrants, seeing that the city might easily have been managed much more

economically. But these warrants, as can readily be imagined, had come to be a fine source of profit for

notebrokers, bankers, political financiers, and inside political manipulators generally and so they remained a

There was just one drawback to all this. In order to get the full advantage of this condition the large banker

holding them must be an "inside banker," one close to the political forces of the city, for if he was not and

needed money and he carried his warrants to the city treasurer, he would find that he could not get cash for

them. But if he transferred them to some banker or notebroker who was close to the political force of the

city, it was quite another matter. The treasury would find means to pay. Or, if so desired by the notebroker

or bankerthe right onenotes which were intended to be met in three months, and should have been

settled at that time, were extended to run on years and years, drawing interest at six per cent. even when the

city had ample funds to meet them. Yet this meant, of course, an illegal interest drain on the city, but that was

all right also. "No funds" could cover that. The general public did not know. It could not find out. The

newspapers were not at all vigilant, being propolitical. There were no persistent, enthusiastic reformers who

obtained any political credence. During the war, warrants outstanding in this manner arose in 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 make everything shipshape again, it was

decided that the city must issue a loan, say for two million dollarsno need to be exact about the amount.

And this loan must take the shape of interestbearing certificates of a par value of one hundred dollars,

redeemable in six, twelve, or eighteen months, as the case may be. These certificates of loan were then

ostensibly to be sold in the open market, a sinkingfund set aside for their redemption, and the money so

obtained used to take up the longoutstanding warrants which were now such a subject of public comment.

It is obvious that this was merely a case of robbing Peter to pay Paul. There was no real clearing up of the

outstanding debt. It was the intention of the schemers to make it possible for the financial politicians on the

inside to reap the same old harvest by allowing the certificates to be sold to the right parties for ninety or less,

setting up the claim that there was no market for them, the credit of the city being bad. To a certain extent this

was true. The war was just over. Money was high. Investors could get more than six per cent. elsewhere

unless the loan was sold at ninety. But there were a few watchful politicians not in the administration, and

some newspapers and nonpolitical financiers who, because of the high strain of patriotism existing at the

time, insisted that the loan should be sold at par. Therefore a clause to that effect had to be inserted in the

This, as one might readily see, destroyed the politicians' little scheme to get this loan at ninety. Nevertheless

since they desired that the money tied up in the old warrants and now not redeemable because of lack of

funds should be paid them, the only way this could be done would be to have some broker who knew the

subtleties of the stock market handle this new city loan on 'change in such a way that it would be made to

seem worth one hundred and to be sold to outsiders at that figure. Afterward, if, as it was certain to do, it fell

below that, the politicians could buy as much of it as they pleased, and eventually have the city redeem it at

George W. Stener, entering as city treasurer at this time, and bringing no special financial intelligence to the

proposition, was really troubled. Henry A. Mollenhauer, one of the men who had gathered up a large amount

of the old city warrants, and who now wanted his money, in order to invest it in bonanza offers in the West,

called on Stener, and also on the mayor. He with Simpson and Butler made up the Big Three.

"I think something ought to be done about these warrants that are outstanding," he explained. "I am carrying a

large amount of them, and there 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 be listed on the stock exchange and the money raised that way? Some clever broker could

Stener was greatly flattered by the visit from Mollenhauer. Rarely did he trouble to put in a personal

appearance, and then only for the weight and effect his presence would have. He called on the mayor and the

president of council, much as he called on Stener, with a lofty, distant, inscrutable air. They were as

In order to understand exactly the motive for Mollenhauer's interest in Stener, and the significance of this

visit and Stener's subsequent action in regard to it, it will be necessary to scan the political horizon for some

little distance back. Although George W. Stener was in a way a political henchman and appointee of

Mollenhauer's, the latter was only vaguely acquainted with him. He had seen him before; knew of him; had

agreed that his name should be put on the local slate largely because he had been assured by those who were

closest to him and who did his bidding that Stener was "all right," that he would do as he was told, that he

would cause no one any trouble, etc. In fact, during several previous administrations, Mollenhauer had

maintained a subsurface connection with the treasury, but never so close a one as could easily be traced. He

was too conspicuous a man politically and financially for that. But he was not above a plan, in which

Simpson if not Butler shared, of using political and commercial stoolpigeons to bleed the city treasury as

much as possible without creating a scandal. In fact, for some years previous to this, various agents had

already been employedEdward Strobik, president of council, Asa Conklin, the then incumbent of the

mayor's chair, Thomas Wycroft, alderman, Jacob Harmon, alderman, and othersto organize dummy

companies under various names, whose business it was to deal in those things which the city

neededlumber, stone, steel, iron, cementa long listand 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

Since the action of at least three of these dummies will have something to do with the development of

Cowperwood's story, they may be briefly described. Edward Strobik, the chief of them, and the one most

useful to Mollenhauer, in a minor way, was a very spry person of about thirtyfive at this timelean and

somewhat forceful, with black hair, black eyes, and an inordinately large black mustache. He was dapper,

inclined to noticeable clothing a pair of striped trousers, a white vest, a black cutaway coat and a high silk

hat. His markedly ornamental shoes were always polished to perfection, and his immaculate appearance gave

him the nickname of "The Dude" among some. Nevertheless he was quite able on a small scale, and was well

His two closest associates, Messrs. Thomas Wycroft and Jacob Harmon, were rather less attractive and less

brilliant. Jacob Harmon was a thick wit socially, but no fool financially. He was big and rather doleful to look

upon, with sandy brown hair and brown eyes, but fairly intelligent, and absolutely willing to approve

anything which was not too broad in its crookedness and which would afford him sufficient protection to

keep him out of the clutches of the law. He was really not so cunning as dull and anxious to get along.

Thomas Wycroft, the last of this useful but minor triumvirate, was a tall, lean man, candlewaxy,

holloweyed, gaunt of face, pathetic to look at physically, but shrewd. He was an ironmolder by trade and

had gotten into politics much as Stener hadbecause he was useful; and he had managed to make some

moneyvia this triumvirate of which Strobik was the ringleader, and which was engaged in various peculiar

The companies which these several henchmen had organized under previous administrations, and for

Mollenhauer, dealt in meat, building material, lampposts, highway supplies, anything you will, which the

city departments or its institutions needed. A city contract once awarded was irrevocable, but certain

councilmen had to be fixed in advance and it took money to do that. The company so organized need not

actually slaughter any cattle or mold lampposts. All it had to do was to organize to do that, obtain a charter,

secure a contract for supplying such material to the city from the city council (which Strobik, Harmon, and

Wycroft would attend to), and then sublet this to some actual beefslaughterer or ironfounder, who would

supply the material and allow them to pocket their profit which in turn was divided or paid for to

Mollenhauer and Simpson in the form of political donations to clubs or organizations. It was so easy and in a

way so legitimate. The particular beefslaughterer or ironfounder thus favored could not hope of his own

ability thus to obtain a contract. Stener, or whoever was in charge of the city treasury at the time, for his

services in loaning money at a low rate of interest to be used as surety for the proper performance of contract,

and to aid in some instances the beefkiller or ironfounder to carry out his end, was to be allowed not only

the one or two per cent. which he might pocket (other treasurers had), but a fair proportion of the profits. A

complacent, confidential chief clerk who was all right would be recommended to him. It did not concern

Stener that Strobik, Harmon, and Wycroft, acting for Mollenhauer, were incidentally planning to use a little

of the money loaned for purposes quite outside those indicated. It was his business to loan it.

However, to be going on. Some time before he was even nominated, Stener had learned from Strobik, who,

by the way, was one of his sureties as treasurer (which suretyship was against the law, as were those of

Councilmen Wycroft and Harmon, the law of Pennsylvania stipulating that one political servant might not

become surety for another), that those who had brought about this nomination and election would by no

means ask him to do anything which was not perfectly legal, but that he must be complacent and not stand in

the way of big municipal perquisites nor bite 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 be made. As has been indicated, he had

always been a poor man. He had seen all those who had dabbled in politics to any extent about him heretofore

do very well financially indeed, while he pegged along as an insurance and realestate agent. He had worked

hard as a small political henchman. Other politicians were building themselves nice homes in newer portions

of the city. They were going off to New York or Harrisburg or Washington on jaunting parties. They were

seen in happy converse at roadhouses or country hotels in season with their wives or their women favorites,

and he was not, as yet, of this happy throng. Naturally now that he was promised something, he was

When it came to this visit from Mollenhauer, with its suggestion in regard to bringing city loan to par,

although it bore no obvious relation to Mollenhauer's subsurface connection with Stener, through Strobik and

the others, Stener did definitely recognize his own political subserviencehis master's stentorian voiceand

"Just what would you do about this?" he asked of Strobik, who knew of Mollenhauer's visit before Stener told

him, and was waiting for Stener to speak to him. "Mr. Mollenhauer talks about having this new loan listed on

Neither Strobik, Harmon, nor Wycroft knew how the certificates of city loan, which were worth only ninety

on the open market, were to be made to sell for one hundred on 'change, but Mollenhauer's secretary, one

Abner Sengstack, had suggested to Strobik that, since Butler was dealing with young Cowperwood and

Mollenhauer did not care particularly for his private broker in this instance, it might be as well to try

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 Simpson in this, merely looked at the peculiarly shambling, heavycheeked,

middleclass man before him without either interest or sympathy, realizing at once that he had a financial

baby to deal with. If he could act as adviser to this manbe 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

Stener was long in explaining to Cowperwood just what his difficulty was. He went at it in a clumsy fashion,

"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. I want to get enough now to clear away two hundred thousand dollars' worth of the

Cowperwood felt like a physician feeling a patient's pulsea patient who is really not sick at all but the

reassurance of whom means a fat fee. 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 handsall of it, if he could have the fact kept dark that he was

acting for the city, and that if Stener would allow him to buy as a "bull" for the sinkingfund while selling

judiciously for a rise, he could do wonders even with a big issue. He had to have all of it, though, in order that

he might have agents under him. Looming up in his mind was a scheme whereby he could make a lot of the

unwary speculators about 'change go short of this stock or loan under the impression, of course, that it was

scattered freely in various persons' hands, and that they could buy as much of it as 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. And what a fat thing for himself among

others in so doing. Wisely enough he sensed that there was politics in all thisshrewder and bigger men

above and behind Stener. But what of that? And how slyly and shrewdly they were sending Stener to him. It

might be that his name was becoming very potent in their political world here. And what might that not

"I tell you what I'd like to do, Mr. Stener," he said, after he had listened to his explanation and asked how

much of the city loan he would like to sell during the coming year. "I'll be glad to undertake it. But I'd like to

"Why, certainly, certainly, Mr. Cowperwood," replied Stener, genially. "That's all right. Take your time. If

you know how it can be done, just show me when you're ready. By the way, what do you charge?"

"Well, the stock exchange has a regular scale of charges which we brokers are compelled to observe. It's

onefourth of one per cent. on the par value of bonds and loans. Of course, I may hav to add a lot of fictitious

sellingI'll explain that to you later but I won't charge you anything for that so long as it is a secret

between us. I'll give you the best service I can, Mr. Stener. You can depend on that. Let me have a day or two

He shook hands with Stener, and they parted. Cowperwood was satisfied that he was on the verge of a

significant combination, and Stener that he had found someone on whom he could lean.

The plan Cowperwood developed after a few days' meditation will be plain enough to any one who knows

anything of commercial and financial manipulation, 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 of deposit. He was to turn over to him,

actually, or set over to his credit on the city's books, subject to his order, certain amounts of city loanstwo

hundred thousand dollars at first, since that was the amount it was desired to raise quickly and he would

then go into the market and see what could be done to have it brought to par. The city treasurer was to ask

leave of the stock exchange at once to have it listed as a security. Cowperwood would then use his influence

to have this application acted upon quickly. Stener was then to dispose of all city loan certificates through

him, and him only. He was to allow him to buy for the sinkingfund, supposedly, such amounts as he might

have to buy in order to keep the price up to par. To do this, once a considerable number of the loan

certificates had been unloaded on the public, it might be necessary to buy back a great deal. However, these

would be sold again. The law concerning selling only at par would have to be abrogated to this extent i.e.,

that the wash sales and preliminary sales 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 to reach par anyway, there was no objection to Stener or any one else

buying low at the opening price and holding for a rise. Cowperwood would be glad to carry him on his books

for any amount, and he would settle at the end of each month. He would not be asked to buy the certificates

outright. He could be carried on the books for a certain reasonable margin, say ten points. The money was as

good as made for Stener now. In the next place, in buying for the sinkingfund it would be possible to buy

these certificates very cheap, for, having the new and reserve issue entirely in his hands, Cowperwood could

throw such amounts as he wished into the market at such times as he wished to buy, and consequently

depress the market. Then he could buy, and, later, up would go the price. Having the issues totally in his

hands to boost or depress the market as he wished, there was no reason why the city should not ultimately get

par for all its issues, and at the same time considerable money be made out of the manufactured fluctuations.

He, Cowperwood, would be glad to make most of his profit that way. The city should allow him his normal

percentage on all his actual sales of certificates for the city at par (he would have to have that in order to keep

straight with the stock exchange); but beyond that, and for all the other necessary manipulative sales, of

which there would be many, he would depend on his knowledge of the stock market to reimburse him. And if

Dark as this transaction may seem to the uninitiated, it will appear quite clear to those who know.

Manipulative tricks have always been worked in connection with stocks of which one man or one set of men

has had complete control. It was no different from what subsequently was done with Erie, Standard Oil,

Copper, Sugar, Wheat, and what not. Cowperwood was one of the first and one of the youngest to see how it

could be done. When he first talked to Stener he was twentyeight years of age. When he last did business

The houses and the bankfront of Cowperwood & Co. had been proceeding apace. The latter was early

Florentine in its decorations with windows which grew narrower as they approached the roof, and a door of

wrought iron set between delicately carved posts, and a straight lintel of brownstone. It was low in height and

distinguished in appearance. In the center panel had been hammered a hand, delicately wrought, thin and

artistic, holding aloft a flaming brand. Ellsworth informed him that this had formerly been a

moneychanger's sign used in old Venice, the significance of which had long been forgotten.

The interior was finished in highlypolished hardwood, stained in imitation of the gray lichens which infest

trees. Large sheets of clear, beveled glass were used, some oval, some oblong, some square, and some

circular, following a given theory of eye movement. The fixtures for the gasjets were modeled after the

early Roman flamebrackets, and the office safe was made an ornament, raised on a marble platform at the

back of the office and lacquered a silvergray, with Cowperwood & Co. lettered on it in gold. One had a

sense of reserve and taste pervading the place, and yet it was also inestimably prosperous, solid and assuring.

Cowperwood, when he viewed it at its completion, complimented Ellsworth cheerily. "I like this. It is really

beautiful. It will be a pleasure to work here. If those houses are going to be anything like this, they will be

"Wait till you see them. I think you will be pleased, Mr. Cowperwood. I am taking especial pains with yours

because it is smaller. It is really easier to treat your father's. But yours" He went off into a description of

the entrancehall, receptionroom and parlor, which he was arranging and decorating in such a way as to

And when the houses were finished, they were effective and arrestingquite different from the conventional

residences of the street. They were separated by a space of twenty feet, laid out as greensward. The architect

had borrowed somewhat from the Tudor school, yet not so elaborated as later became the style in many of the

residences in Philadelphia and elsewhere. The most striking features were rather deeprecessed doorways

under wide, low, slightly floriated arches, and three projecting windows of rich form, one on the second floor

of Frank's house, two on the facade of his father's. There were six gables showing on the front of the two

houses, two on Frank's and four on his father's. In the front of each house on the ground floor was a recessed

window unconnected with the recessed doorways, formed by setting the inner external wall back from the

outer face of the building. This window looked out through an arched opening to the street, and was protected

by a dwarf parapet or balustrade. It was possible to set potted vines and flowers there, which was later done,

giving a pleasant sense of greenery from the street, and to place a few chairs there, which were reached via

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 of white marble eight feet in diameter, with a marble Cupid upon which jets of

water played. The yard which was enclosed by a high but pierced wall of greengray brick, especially burnt

for the purpose the same color as the granite of the house, and surmounted by a white marble coping which

was sown to grass and had a lovely, smooth, velvety appearance. The two houses, as originally planned, were

connected by a low, greencolumned pergola which could be enclosed in glass in winter.

The rooms, which were now slowly being decorated and furnished in period styles were very significant in

that they enlarged and strengthened Frank Cowperwood's idea of the world of art in general. It was an

enlightening and agreeable experienceone which made for artistic and intellectual growthto hear

Ellsworth explain at length the styles and types of architecture and furniture, the nature of woods and

ornaments employed, the qualities and peculiarities of hangings, draperies, furniture panels, and door

coverings. Ellsworth was a student of decoration as well as of architecture, and interested in the artistic taste

of the American people, which he fancied would some day have a splendid outcome. He was wearied to

death of the prevalent Romanesque composite combinations of country and suburban villa. The time was ripe

for something new. He scarcely knew what it would be; but this that he had designed for Cowperwood and

his father was at least different, as he 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 diningroom, receptionroom,

conservatory, and butler's pantry he had put on the first floor, together with the general entryhall, staircase,

and coatroom under the stairs. For the second floor he had reserved the library, general livingroom, parlor,

and a small office for Cowperwood, together with a boudoir for Lillian, connected with a dressingroom and

On the third floor, neatly divided and accommodated with baths and dressingrooms, were the nursery, the

Ellsworth showed Cowperwood books of designs containing furniture, hangings, etageres, cabinets,

pedestals, and some exquisite piano forms. He discussed woods with himrosewood, mahogany, walnut,

English oak, bird'seye maple, and the manufactured effects such as ormolu, marquetry, and Boule, or buhl.

He explained the latter how difficult it was to produce, how unsuitable it was in some respects for this

climate, the brass and tortoiseshell inlay coming to swell with the heat or damp, and so bulging or breaking.

He told of the difficulties and disadvantages of certain finishes, but finally recommended ormolu furniture for

the reception room, medallion tapestry for the parlor, French renaissance for the diningroom and library,

and bird'seye maple (dyed blue in one instance, and left its natural color in another) and a rather lightly

constructed and daintily carved walnut for the other rooms. The hangings, wallpaper, and floor coverings

were to harmonize not matchand the piano and musiccabinet for the parlor, as well as the etagere,

cabinets, and pedestals for the receptionrooms, were to be of buhl or marquetry, if Frank cared to stand the

Ellsworth advised a triangular pianothe square shapes were so inexpressibly wearisome to the initiated.

Cowperwood listened fascinated. He foresaw a home which would be chaste, soothing, and delightful to look

upon. If he hung pictures, gilt frames were to be the setting, large and deep; and if he wished a

picturegallery, the library could be converted into that, and the general livingroom, which lay between the

library and the parlor on the secondfloor, could be turned into a combination library and livingroom. 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 that was

distinguished in this realmcertainly not in the open market. There were many private houses which were

enriched by travel; but his connection with the best families was as yet small. There were then two famous

American sculptors, Powers and Hosmer, of whose work he had examples; but Ellsworth told him that they

were not the last word in sculpture and that he should look into the merits of the ancients. He finally secured

a head of David, by Thorwaldsen, which delighted him, and some landscapes by Hunt, Sully, and Hart, which

The effect of a house of this character on its owner is unmistakable. We think we are individual, separate,

above houses and material objects generally; but there is a subtle connection which makes them reflect us

quite 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 shot back 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 rightfully his own, characteristic of him, and you have a

peculiar figure, half success, half failure, much as a spider without its web, which will never be its whole self

The sight of his new house going up made Cowperwood feel of more weight in the world, and the possession

of his suddenly achieved connection with the city treasurer was as though a wide door had been thrown open

to the Elysian fields of opportunity. He rode about the city those days behind a team of spirited bays, whose

glossy hides and metaled harness bespoke the watchful care of hostler and coachman. Ellsworth was building

an attractive stable in the little side street back of the houses, for the joint use of both families. He told Mrs.

Cowperwood that he intended to buy her a victoriaas the low, open, fourwheeled coach was then

known as soon as they were well settled in their new home, and that they were to go out more. There was

some talk about the value of entertainingthat he would have to reach out socially for certain individuals

who were not now known to him. Together with Anna, his sister, and his two brothers, Joseph and Edward,

they could use the two houses jointly. There was no reason why Anna should not make a splendid match. Joe

and Ed might marry well, since they were not destined to set the world on fire in commerce. At least it would

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

It was not long after the arrangement between Treasurer Stener and Cowperwood had been made that the

machinery for the carrying out of that politicalfinancial relationship was put in motion. The sum of two

hundred and ten thousand dollars in six per cent. interestbearing certificates, payable in ten years, was set

over to the credit of Cowperwood & 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 than ninety, at the same time creating the impression

that it was going to be a prosperous investment. The certificates gradually rose and were unloaded in rising

amounts until one hundred was reached, when all the two hundred thousand dollars' worthtwo thousand

certificates in allwas fed out in small lots. Stener was satisfied. Two hundred shares had been carried for

him and sold at one hundred, which netted him two thousand dollars. It was illegitimate gain, unethical; but

his conscience was not very much troubled by that. He had none, truly. He saw visions of a halcyon future.

It is difficult to make perfectly clear what a subtle and significant power this suddenly placed in the hands of

Cowperwood. Consider that he was only twentyeightnearing twentynine. Imagine yourself by nature

versed in the arts of finance, capable of playing with sums of money in the forms of stocks, certificates,

bonds, and cash, as the ordinary man plays with checkers or chess. Or, better yet, imagine yourself one of

those subtle masters of the mysteries of the higher forms of chessthe type of mind so well illustrated by the

famous and historic chessplayers, who could sit with their backs to a group of rivals playing fourteen men at

once, calling out all the moves in turn, remembering all the positions of all the men on all the boards, and

winning. This, of course, would be an overstatement of the subtlety of Cowperwood 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

moneyhow as cash it could be deposited in one place, and yet as credit and the basis of moving checks,

used in not one but many other places at the same time. When properly watched and followed this

manipulation gave him the constructive and purchasing power of ten and a dozen times as much as his

original sum might have represented. He knew instinctively the principles of "pyramiding" and "kiting." He

could see exactly not only how he could raise and lower the value of these certificates of loan, day after day

and year after yearif he were so fortunate as to retain his hold on the city treasurerbut also how this

would give him a credit with the banks hitherto beyond his wildest dreams. His father's bank was one of the

first to profit by this and to extend him loans. The various local politicians and bosses Mollenhauer, Butler,

Simpson, and othersseeing the success of his efforts in this direction, speculated in city loan. He became

known to Mollenhauer and Simpson, by reputation, if not personally, as the man who was carrying this city

loan proposition to a successful issue. Stener was supposed to have done a clever thing in finding him. The

stock exchange stipulated that all trades were to be compared the same day and settled before the close of the

next; but this working arrangement with the new city treasurer gave Cowperwood much more latitude, and

now he had always until the first of the month, or practically thirty days at times, in which to render an

And, moreover, this was really not an accounting in the sense of removing anything from his hands. Since the

issue was to be so large, the sum at his disposal would always be large, and socalled transfers and balancing

at the end of the month would be a mere matter of bookkeeping. He could use these city loan certificates

deposited with him for manipulative purposes, deposit them at any bank as collateral for a loan, quite as if

they were his own, thus raising seventy per cent. 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 end of the month, and cover other stock

transactions, on which he could borrow again. There was no limit to the resources of which he now found

himself possessed, except the resources of his own energy, ingenuity, and the limits of time in which he had

to work. The politicians did not realize what a bonanza he was making of it all for himself, because they were

as yet unaware of the subtlety of his mind. When Stener told him, after talking the matter over with the

mayor, Strobik, and others that he would formally, during the course of the year, set over on the city's books

all of the two millions in city loan, Cowperwood was silentbut with delight. Two millions! His to play

with! He had been called in as a financial adviser, and he had given his advice and it had been taken! Well.

He was not a man who inherently was troubled with conscientious scruples. At the same time he still believed

himself financially honest. He was no sharper or shrewder than any other financiercertainly no sharper

It should be noted here that this proposition of Stener's in regard to city money had no connection with the

attitude of the principal leaders in local politics in regard to streetrailway control, which was a new and

intriguing phase of the city's financial life. Many of the leading financiers and financierpoliticians were

interested in that. For instance, Messrs. Mollenhauer, Butler, and Simpson were interested in streetrailways

separately on their own account. There was no understanding between them on this score. If they had thought

at all on the matter they would have decided that they did not want any outsider to interfere. As a matter of

fact the streetrailway business in Philadelphia was not sufficiently developed at this time to suggest to any

one the grand scheme of union which came later. Yet in connection with this new arrangement between

Stener and Cowperwood, it was Strobik who now came forward to Stener with an idea of his own. All were

certain to make money through Cowperwoodhe and Stener, especially. What was amiss, therefore, with

himself and Stener and with Cowperwood as their or rather Stener's secret representative, since Strobik did

not dare to appear in the matterbuying now sufficient streetrailway shares 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 streets for its

extension, why, there you werethey would own it. Only, later, he proposed to shake Stener out if he could.

But this preliminary work had to be done by some one, and it might as well be Stener. At the same time, as he

saw, this work had to be done very carefully, because naturally his superiors were watchful, and if they found

him dabbling in affairs of this kind to his own advantage, they might make it impossible for him to continue

politically in a position where he could help himself just the same. Any outside organization such as a

streetrailway company already in existence had a right to appeal to the city council for privileges which

would naturally further its and the city's growth, and, other things being equal, these could not be refused. It

would not do for him to appear, however, both as a shareholder and president of the council. But with

The interesting thing about this proposition as finally presented by Stener for Strobik to Cowperwood, was

that it raised, without appearing to do so, the whole question of Cowperwood's attitude toward the city

administration. Although he was dealing privately for Edward Butler as an agent, and with this same plan in

mind, and although he had never met either Mollenhauer or Simpson, he nevertheless felt that in so far as the

manipulation of the city loan was concerned he was acting for them. On the other hand, in this matter of the

private streetrailway purchase which Stener now brought to him, he realized from the very beginning, by

Stener's attitude, that there was something untoward in it, that Stener felt he was doing something which he

"Cowperwood," he said to him the first morning he ever broached this matterit was in Stener's office, at

the old city hall at Sixth and Chestnut, and Stener, in view of his oncoming prosperity, was feeling very good

indeed"isn't there some streetrailway property around town here that a man could buy in on and get

Cowperwood knew that there were such properties. His very alert mind had long since sensed the general

opportunities here. The omnibuses were slowly disappearing. The best routes were already preempted. Still,

there were other streets, and the city was growing. The incoming population would make great business in the

future. One could afford to pay almost any price for the short lines already built if one could wait and extend

the lines into larger and better areas later. And already he had conceived in his own mind the theory of the

"endless chain," or "argeeable formula," as it was later termed, of buying a certain property on a longtime

payment and issuing stocks or bonds sufficient not only to pay your seller, but to reimburse you for your

trouble, to say nothing of giving you a margin wherewith to invest in other things allied properties, for

instance, against which more bonds could be issued, and so on, ad infinitum. It became an old story later, but

it was new at that time, and he kept the thought closely to himself. None the less he was glad to have Stener

speak of this, since streetrailways were his hobby, and he was convinced that he would be a great master of

"Why, yes, George," he said, noncommittally, there are two or three that offer a good chance if a man had

money enough. I notice blocks of stock being offered on 'change now and then by one person and another. It

would be good policy to pick these things up as they're offered, and then to see later if some of the other

stockholders won't want to sell out. Green and Coates, now, looks like a good proposition to me. If I had

three or four hundred thousand dollars that I thought I could put into that by degrees I would follow it up. It

only takes about thirty per cent. of the stock of any railroad to control it. Most of the shares are scattered

around so far and wide that they never vote, and I think two or three hundred thousand dollars would control

that road." He mentioned one other line that might be secured in the same way in the course of time.

Stener meditated. "That's a good deal of money," he said, thoughtfully. "I'll talk to you about that some more

Cowperwood knew that Stener did not have any two or three hundred thousand dollars to invest in anything.

There was only one way that he could get itand that was to borrow it out of the city treasury and forego 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 the triumvirate

were secretly working together. But what of it? The larger politicians were always using the treasury, and he

was thinking now, only, of his own attitude in regard to the use of this money. No harm could come to him, if

Stener's ventures were successful; and there was no reason why they should not be. Even if they were not he

would be merely acting as an agent. In addition, he saw how in the manipulation of this money for Stener he

There was one line being laid out to within a few blocks of his new homethe Seventeenth and Nineteenth

Street line it was called which interested him greatly. He rode on it occasionally when he was delayed or

did not wish to trouble about a vehicle. It ran through two thriving streets of redbrick houses, and was

destined to have a great future once 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 securedor Mollenhauer's, or

Simpson's, the legislature could be induced to give them additional franchises. He even dreamed of a

combination between Butler, Mollenhauer, Simpson, and himself. Between them, politically, they could get

anything. But Butler was not a philanthropist. He would have to be approached with a very sizable bird in

hand. The combination must be obviously advisable. Besides, he was dealing for Butler in streetrailway

stocks, and if this particular line were such a good thing Butler might wonder why it had not been brought to

him in the first place. It would be better, Frank thought, to wait until he actually had it as his own, in which

case it would be a different matter. Then he could talk as a capitalist. He began to dream of a citywide

The days that had been passing brought Frank Cowperwood and Aileen Butler somewhat closer together in

spirit. Because of the pressure of his growing affairs he had not paid so much attention to her as he might

have, but he had seen her often this past year. She was now nineteen and had grown into some subtle

thoughts of her own. For one thing, she was beginning to see the difference between good taste and bad taste

"Papa, why do we stay in this old barn?" she asked her father one evening at dinner, when the usual family

"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 under his chin, for he insisted on this when company was not present. "I don't

see anything the matter with this house. Your mother and I manage to live in it well enough."

"Oh, it's terrible, papa. You know it," supplemented Norah, who was seventeen and quite as bright as her

sister, though a little less experienced. "Everybody says so. Look at all the nice houses that are being built

"Everybody! Everybody! Who is 'everybody,' I'd like to know?" demanded Butler, 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. Who are

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 a healthy Irish grin. Tonight, however, it was destined for a little more

"You know it's bad, papa," corrected Aileen, firmly. "Now what's the use getting mad about it? It's old and

cheap and dingy. The furniture is all worn out. That old piano in there ought to be given away. I won't play

"Old is it!" exclaimed Butler, his accent sharpening somewhat with his selfinduced rage. He almost

pronounced it "owled." "Dingy, hi! Where do you get that? At your convent, I suppose. And where is it

He was coming to her reference to Cowperwood, but he hadn't reached that when Mrs. Butler interfered. She

was a stout, broadfaced woman, smilingmouthed most of the time, with blurry, gray Irish eyes, and a touch

of red in her hair, now modified by grayness. Her cheek, below the mouth, on the left side, was sharply

"Children! children!" (Mr. Butler, for all his commercial and political responsibility, was as much a child to

her as any.) "Youse mustn't quarrel now. Come now. Give your father the tomatoes."

There was an Irish maid serving at table; but plates were passed from one to the other just the same. A

heavily ornamented chandelier, holding sixteen imitation candles in white porcelain, hung low over the table

"Mama, how often have I told you not to say 'youse'?" pleaded Norah, very much disheartened by her

"And who's to tell your mother what she should say?" called Butler, more incensed than ever at this sudden

and unwarranted rebellion and assault. "Your mother talked before ever you was born, I'd have you know. If

it weren't for her workin' and slavin' you wouldn't have any fine manners to be paradin' before her. I'd have

you know that. She's a better woman nor any you'll be runnin' with this day, you little baggage, you!"

"Mama, do you hear what he's calling me?" complained Norah, hugging close to her mother's arm and

"Eddie! Eddie!" cautioned Mrs. Butler, pleading with her husband. "You know he don't mean that, Norah,

She was stroking her baby's head. The reference to her grammar had not touched her at all.

Butler was sorry that he had called his youngest a baggage; but these childrenGod bless his soulwere a

great annoyance. Why, in the name of all the saints, wasn't this house good enough for them?

"Why don't you people quit fussing at the table?" observed Callum, a likely 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 short and retrousse, and his ears were rather

prominent; but he was bright and attractive. He and Owen both realized that the house was old and poorly

arranged; but their father and mother liked it, and business sense and family peace dictated silence on this

"Well, I think it's mean to have to live in this old place when people not onefourth as good as we are are

"Yes, the Cowperwoods! What about the Cowperwoods?" demanded Butler, turning squarely to Aileenshe

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

"The Cowperwoods! The Cowperwoods! I'll not have any talk about the Cowperwoods. I'm not takin' my

rules from the Cowperwoods. Suppose they have a fine house, what of it? My house is my house. I want to

live here. I've lived here too long to be pickin' up and movin' away. If you don't like it you know what else

It was Butler's habit when he became involved in these family quarrels, which were as shallow as puddles, to

wave his hands rather antagonistically under his wife's or his children's noses.

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

There flashed across her mind the beautiful receptionroom, library, parlor, and boudoirs of the

Cowperwoods, which were now being arranged and about which Anna Cowperwood talked to her so much

their dainty, lovely triangular grand piano in gold and painted pink and blue. Why couldn't they have things

like that? Her father was unquestionably a dozen times as wealthy. But no, her father, whom she loved

dearly, was of the old school. He was just what people charged him with being, a rough Irish contractor. He

might be rich. She flared up at the injustice of thingswhy couldn't he have been rich and refined, too? Then

they could havebut, oh, what was the use of complaining? They would never get anywhere with her father

and mother in charge. She would just have to wait. Marriage was the answerthe right marriage. But whom

"You surely are not going to go on fighting about that now," pleaded Mrs. Butler, as strong and patient as fate

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

"Hush now! In good time," replied Mrs. Butler to Norah. "Wait. We'll fix it all up some day, sure. You run to

Norah arose and left. Aileen subsided. Her father was simply stubborn and impossible. And yet he was sweet,

"Come now," he said, after they had left the table, and conscious of the fact that his daughter was dissatisfied

with him. He must do something to placate her. "Play me somethin' on the piano, somethin' nice." He

preferred showy, clattery things which exhibited her skill and muscular ability and left him wondering how

she did it. That was what education was forto enable her to play these very difficult things quickly and

forcefully. "And you can have a new piano any time you like. Go and see about it. This looks pretty good to

me, but if you don't want it, all right." Aileen squeezed his arm. What was the use of arguing with her father?

What good would a lone piano do, when the whole house and the whole family atmosphere were at fault? But

she played Schumann, Schubert, Offenbach, Chopin, and the old gentleman strolled to and fro and mused,

smiling. There was real feeling and a thoughtful interpretation given to some of these things, for Aileen was

not without sentiment, 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

of her. Some rich man was going to many hersome fine, rich young man with good business

There was a reception and a dance to be given to celebrate the opening of the two Cowperwood homesthe

reception to be held in Frank Cowperwood's residence, and the dance later at his father's. The Henry

Cowperwood domicile was much more pretentious, the receptionroom, parlor, musicroom, and

conservatory being in this case all on the ground floor and much larger. Ellsworth had arranged it so that

those rooms, on occasion, could be thrown into one, leaving excellent space for promenade, auditorium,

dancing anything, in fact, that a large company might require. It had been the intention all along of the two

men to use these houses jointly. There was, to begin with, a combination use of the various servants, the

butler, gardener, laundress, and maids. Frank Cowperwood employed a governess for his children. The butler

was really not a butler in the best sense. He was Henry Cowperwood's private servitor. But he could carve

and preside, and he could be used in either house as occasion warranted. There was also a hostler and a

coachman for the joint stable. When two carriages were required at once, both drove. It made a very

The preparation of this reception had been quite a matter of importance, for it was necessary for financial

reasons to make it as extensive as possible, and for social reasons as exclusive. It was therefore decided that

the afternoon reception at Frank's house, with its natural overflow into Henry W.'s, was to be for allthe

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 was not likely that the latter would condescend, but cards had to be sent. Later in the

evening a less democratic group if possible was to be entertained, albeit it would have to be extended to

include the friends of Anna, Mrs. Cowperwood, Edward, and Joseph, and any list which Frank might

personally have in mind. This was to be the list. The best that could be persuaded, commanded, or influenced

It was not possible, however, not to invite the Butlers, parents and children, particularly the children, for both

afternoon and evening, since Cowperwood was personally attracted to Aileen and despite the fact that the

presence of the parents would be most unsatisfactory. Even Aileen as he knew was a little unsatisfactory to

Anna and Mrs. Frank Cowperwood; and these two, when they were together supervising the list of

"She's so hoidenish," observed Anna, to her sisterinlaw, when they came to the name of Aileen. "She

thinks she knows so much, and she isn't a bit refined. Her father! Well, if I had her father I wouldn't talk so

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 compel me to have anything to do with

them. Mrs. Butler is such a bore. She means well enough, but she doesn't know anything. And Aileen is too

rough. She's too forward, I think. She comes over here and plays upon the piano, particularly when Frank's

here. I wouldn't mind so much for myself, but I know it must annoy him. All her pieces are so noisy. She

"I don't like the way she dresses," observed Anna, sympathetically. "She gets herself up too conspicuously.

Now, the other day I saw her out driving, and oh, dear! you should have seen her! She had on a crimson

Zouave jacket heavily braided with black about the edges, and a turban with a huge crimson feather, and

crimson ribbons reaching nearly to her waist. Imagine that kind of a hat to drive in. And her hands! You

should have seen the way she held her handsohjust soselfconsciously. They were curved just

so"and she showed how. "She had on yellow gauntlets, 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, the footman, 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 in

"I suppose we'll have to invite her; I don't see how we can get out of it. I know just how she'll do, though.

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

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

It was curious, though, that it was Aileen who commanded nearly all their attention and fixed their minds on

her socalled idiosyncrasies. All they said was in its peculiar way true; but in addition the girl was really

beautiful and much above the average intelligence and force. She was running deep with ambition, and she

was all the more conspicuous, and in a way irritating to some, because she reflected in her own consciousness

her social defects, against which she was inwardly fighting. She resented the fact that people could justly

consider her parents ineligible, and for that reason her also. She was intrinsically as worth while as any one.

Cowperwood, so able, and rapidly becoming so distinguished, seemed to realize it. The days that had been

passing had brought them somewhat closer together in spirit. He was nice to her and liked to talk to her.

Whenever he was at her home now, or she was at his and he was present, he managed somehow to say a

"Well, Aileen"she could see his genial eyes"how is it with you? How are your father and mother? Been

"You did. You looked stunning. A black ridinghabit becomes you. I can tell your gold hair a long way off."

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

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

She gave a little gasp of delight. The color mounted to her cheeks and temples. Mr. Cowperwood knew of

course. He was so informed and intensely forceful. And already he was so much admired by so many, her

own father and mother included, and by Mr. Mollenhauer and Mr. Simpson, so she heard. And his own home

and office were so beautiful. Besides, his quiet intensity matched her restless force.

Aileen and her sister were accordingly invited to the reception but the Butlers mere and pere were given to

understand, in as tactful a manner as 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 under the

pergola; viewings of both homes in detail. Many of the guests were old friends. They gathered in the libraries

and diningrooms and talked. There was much jesting, some slappings of shoulders, some good storytelling,

Aileen had created an impression in a street costume of dark blue silk with velvet pelisse to match, and

trimmed with elaborate pleatings and shirrings of the same materials. A toque of blue velvet, with high crown

and one large darkred imitation orchid, had given her a jaunty, dashing air. Beneath the toque her redgold

hair was arranged in an enormous chignon, with one long curl escaping over her collar. She was not exactly

She had swung herself with a slight, swaggering stride into the diningroom and disappeared. Norah and her

"Well, it's lovely now, isn't it?" breathed Mrs. Butler. "Sure you'll be happy here. Sure you will. When Eddie

fixed the house we're in now, says I: 'Eddie, it's almost too fine for us altogether surely it is,' and he says,

says 'e, 'Norah, nothin' this side o' heavin or beyond is too good for ye'and he kissed me. Now what d'ye

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

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

"Well, may ye always be happy in it. I wish ye that. I've always been happy in mine. May ye always be

The Cowperwood family dined hastily alone between seven and eight. At nine the evening guests began to

arrive, and now the throng was of a different complexiongirls in mauve and creamwhite and

salmonpink and silvergray, laying aside lace shawls and loose dolmans, and the men in smooth black

helping them. Outside in the cold, the carriage doors were slamming, and new guests were arriving

constantly. Mrs. Cowperwood stood with her husband and Anna in the main entrance to the reception room,

while Joseph and Edward Cowperwood and Mr. and Mrs. Henry W. Cowperwood lingered in the

background. Lillian looked charming in a train gown of old rose, with a low, square neck showing a delicate

chemisette of fine lace. Her face and figure were still notable, though her face was not as smoothly sweet as it

had been years before when Cowperwood had first met her. Anna Cowperwood was not pretty, though she

could not be said to be homely. She was small and dark, with a turnedup nose, snapping black eyes, a pert,

inquisitive, intelligent, and alas, somewhat critical, air. She had considerable tact in the matter of dressing.

Black, in spite of her darkness, with shining beads of sequins on it, helped her complexion greatly, as did a

red rose in her hair. She had smooth, white wellrounded arms and shoulders. Bright eyes, a pert manner,

clever remarksthese assisted to create an illusion of charm, though, as she often said, it was of little use.

In the evening inpour of young men and women came Aileen and Norah, the former throwing off a thin net

veil of black lace and a dolman of black silk, which her brother Owen took from her. Norah was with Callum,

a straight, erect, smiling young Irishman, who looked as though he might carve a notable career for himself.

She wore a short, girlish dress that came to a little below her shoetops, a palefigured lavender and white

silk, with a fluffy hoopskirt of dainty lacededged ruffles, against which tiny bows of lavender stood out in

odd places. There was a great sash of lavender about her waist, and in her hair a rosette of the same color. She

But behind her was her sister in ravishing black satin, scaled as a fish with glistening crimsonedsilver

sequins, her round, smooth arms bare to the shoulders, her corsage cut as low in the front and back as her

daring, in relation to her sense of the proprieties, permitted. She was naturally of exquisite figure, erect,

fullbreasted, with somewhat more than gently swelling hips, which, nevertheless, melted into lovely,

harmonious lines; and this lowcut corsage, receding back and front into a deep V, above a short, gracefully

draped overskirt of black tulle and silver tissue, set her off to perfection. Her full, smooth, roundly modeled

neck was enhanced in its creampink whiteness by an inchwide necklet of black jet cut in many faceted

black squares. Her complexion, naturally high in tone because of the pink of health, was enhanced by the

tiniest speck of black courtplaster laid upon her cheekbone; and her hair, heightened in its reddishgold by

her dress, was fluffed loosely and adroitly about her eyes. The main mass of this treasure was done in two

loose braids caught up in a black spangled net at the back of her neck; and her eyebrows had been

emphasized by a pencil into something almost as significant as her hair. She was, for the occasion, a little too

emphatic, perhaps, and yet more because of her burning vitality than of her costume. Art for her should have

meant subduing her physical and spiritual significance. Life for her meant emphasizing them.

"Lillian!" Anna nudged her sisterinlaw. She was grieved to think that Aileen was wearing black and

Norah began to babble to Anna. "You know, I just thought I never would get this old thing on." She was

Aileen had swept on to Cowperwood and his mother, who was near him. She had removed from her arm the

black satin ribbon which held her train and kicked the skirts loose and free. Her eyes gleamed almost

pleadingly for all her hauteur, like a spirited collie's, and her even teeth showed beautifully.

"I can't tell you how nice you look," he whispered to her, familiarly, as though there was an old

He did not know why he said this. He was not especially poetic. He had not formulated the phrase

beforehand. Since his first glimpse of her in the hall, his feelings and ideas had been leaping and plunging

like spirited horses. This girl made him set his teeth and narrow his eyes. Involuntarily he squared his jaw,

But Aileen and her sister were almost instantly surrounded by young men seeking to be introduced and to

The seeds of changesubtle, metaphysicalare rooted deeply. From the first mention of the dance by Mrs.

Cowperwood and Anna, Aileen had been conscious of a desire toward a more effective presentation of

herself than 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 so much more impressive, distinguished than anything she had

heretofore known socially. Then, too, Cowperwood appeared as something more definite in her mind than he

had been before, and to save herself she could 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 times he had looked at her in an interested way. He had commented on her

hands once. Today he had said that she looked "stunning," and she had thought how easy it would be to

She had stood before her mirror between eight and nineit was ninefifteen before she was really

readyand pondered over what she should wear. There were two tall pierglasses in her wardrobe an

unduly large piece of furnitureand one in her closet door. She stood before the latter, looking at her bare

arms and shoulders, her shapely figure, thinking of the fact that her left shoulder had a dimple, and that she

had selected garnet garters decorated with heartshaped silver buckles. The corset could not be made quite

tight enough at first, and she chided her maid, Kathleen Kelly. She studied how to arrange her hair, and there

was much ado about that before it was finally adjusted. She penciled her eyebrows and plucked at the hair

about her forehead to make it loose and shadowy. She cut black courtplaster with her nailshears and tried

differentsized pieces in different places. Finally, she found one size and one place that suited her. She turned

her head from side to side, looking at the combined effect of her hair, her penciled brows, her dimpled

shoulder, and the black beautyspot. If some one man could see her as she was now, some time! Which man?

That thought scurried back like a frightened rat into its hole. She was, for all her strength, afraid of the

And then she came to the matter of a traingown. Kathleen laid out five, for Aileen had come into the joy and

honor of these things recently, and she had, with the permission of her mother and father, indulged herself to

the full. She studied a goldenyellow silk, with creamlace shoulderstraps, and some gussets of garnet

beads in the train that shimmered delightfully, but set it aside. She considered favorably a blackandwhite

striped silk of odd gray effect, and, though she was sorely tempted to wear it, finally let it go. There was a

maroon dress, with basque and overskirt over white silk; a rich creamcolored satin; and then this black

sequined gown, which she finally chose. She tried on the creamcolored satin first, however, being in much

doubt about it; but her penciled eyes and beautyspot did not seem to harmonize with it. Then she put on the

black silk with its glistening crimsonedsilver sequins, and, lo, it touched her. She liked its coquettish

drapery of tulle and silver about the hips. The "overskirt," which was at that time just coming into fashion,

though avoided by the more conservative, had been adopted by Aileen with enthusiasm. She thrilled a little at

the rustle of this black dress, and thrust her chin and nose forward to make it set right. Then after having

Kathleen tighten her corsets a little more, she gathered the train over her arm by its trainband and looked

again. Something was wanting. Oh, yes, her neck! What to wearred coral? It did not look right. A string of

pearls? That would not do either. There was a necklace made of small cameos set in silver which her mother

had purchased, and another of diamonds which belonged to her mother, but they were not right. Finally, her

jet necklet, which she did not value very highly, came into her mind, and, oh, how lovely it looked! How soft

and smooth and glistening her chin looked above it. She caressed her neck affectionately, called for her black

The ballroom, as she entered, was lovely enough. The young men and young women she saw there were

interesting, and she was not wanting for admirers. The most aggressive of these youthsthe most

forcefulrecognized in this maiden a fillip to life, a sting to existence. She was as a honeyjar surrounded

But it occurred to her, as her dancelist was filling up, that there was not much left for Mr. Cowperwood, if

Cowperwood was meditating, as he received the last of the guests, on the subtlety of this matter of the sex

arrangement of life. Two sexes. He was not at all sure that there was any law governing them. By comparison

now with Aileen Butler, his wife looked rather dull, quite too old, and when he was ten years older she would

"Oh, yes, Ellsworth had made quite an attractive arrangement out of these two housesbetter than we ever

thought he could do." He was talking to Henry Hale Sanderson, a young banker. "He had the advantage of

combining two into one, and I think he's done more with my little one, considering the limitations of space,

than he has with this big one. Father's has the advantage of size. I tell the old gentleman he's simply built a

His father and a number of his cronies were over in the diningroom of his 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

wife cared little for dancing, but he would have to dance with her at least once. There was Mrs. Seneca Davis

"I suppose your dancelist is full to overflowing. Let me see." He was standing before her and she was

holding out the little bluebordered, goldmonogrammed booklet. An orchestra was playing in the music

room. The dance would begin shortly. There were delicately constructed, goldtinted chairs about the walls

"You're quite full up. Let me see. Nine, ten, eleven. Well, that will be enough. I don't suppose I shall want to

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

"Well, I'll see where you are when it's called. You're darling. I'm afraid of you." He shot a level, interpretive

glance into her eyes, then left. Aileen's bosom heaved. It was hard to breathe sometimes in this warm air.

While he was dancing first with Mrs. Cowperwood and later with Mrs. Seneca Davis, and still later with Mrs.

Martyn Walker, Cowperwood had occasion to look at Aileen often, and each time that he did so there swept

over him a sense of great vigor there, of beautiful if raw, dynamic energy that to him was irresistible and

especially so tonight. She was so young. She was beautiful, this girl, and in spite of his wife's repeated

derogatory comments he felt that she was nearer to his clear, aggressive, unblinking attitude than any one

whom he had yet seen in 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 so much. Largeness was the sense he had of

hernot physically, though she was nearly as tall as himselfbut emotionally. She seemed so intensely

alive. She passed close to him a number of times, her eyes wide and smiling, her lips parted, her teeth agleam,

and he felt a stirring of sympathy and companionship for her which he had not previously experienced. She

"I'm wondering if that dance is open now," he said to her as he drew near toward the beginning of the third

set. She was seated with her latest admirer in a far corner of the general livingroom, a clear floor now waxed

to perfection. A few palms here and there made embrasured parapets of green. "I hope you'll excuse me," he

"Yes, indeed," she replied. "And you'd better stay here with me. It's going to begin soon. You won't mind?"

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

"Well, I can't say that myself. It's fascinating, though. Your partner makes such a difference. Mrs.

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

"I think you dance very well. I watched you, too." She questioned afterwards whether she should have said

He was a little keyed up because of herslightly cloudy in his thoughtsbecause she was generating a

problem in his life, or would if he let her, and so his talk was a little tame. He was thinking of something to

saysome words which would bring them a little nearer together. But for the moment he could not. Truth to

He turned with a mock air of inquiry. The music was beginning again. The dancers 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

They had come out from behind the palms. He had put his hand to her waist. 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, looking

into his eyes. As they began the gay undulations of the waltz she looked away and then down without

answering. Her movements were as light and airy as those of a butterfly. He felt a sudden lightness himself,

communicated as by an invisible current. He wanted to match the suppleness of her body with his own, and

did. Her arms, the flash and glint of the crimson sequins against the smooth, black silk of her closely fitting

dress, her neck, her glowing, radiant hair, all combined to provoke a slight intellectual intoxication. She was

She lifted shy eyes to him now, for, in spite of her gay, aggressive force, she was afraid of him. His

personality was obviously so dominating. Now that he was so close to her, dancing, she conceived of him as

something quite wonderful, and yet she experienced a nervous reactiona momentary desire to run away.

He thought she wanted him to talk to her so, to tease her with suggestions of this concealed feeling of

histhis strong liking. He wondered what could come of any such understanding as this, anyhow?

"Oh, I just wanted to see how you danced," she said, tamely, the force of her original feeling having been

weakened by a thought of what she was doing. He noted the change and smiled. It was lovely to be dancing

She thrilled from head to toe at the question. A piece of ice dropped down her back could not have startled

her more. It was apparently tactless, and yet it was anything but tactless. She looked up quickly, directly, but

"Why, yes," she answered, as the music stopped, trying to keep an even tone to her voice. She was glad they

"I like you so much," he said, "that I have been wondering if you really like me." There was an appeal in his

"Why, yes," she replied, instantly, returning to her earlier mood toward him. "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

"We mustn't," she said. "I mustn't. I don't know what I'm doing." She looked at a young man strolling toward

Cowperwood understood. He walked away. He was quite warm and tense nowalmost nervous. It was quite

clear to him that he had done or was contemplating perhaps a very treacherous thing. Under the current code

of society he had no right to do it. It was against the rules, as they were understood by everybody. Her father,

for instancehis fatherevery one in this particular walk of life. However, much breaking of the rules

under the surface of things there might be, the rules were still there. As he had heard one young man remark

once at school, when some story had been told of a boy leading a girl astray and to a disastrous end, "That

Still, now that he had said this, strong thoughts of her were in his mind. And despite his involved social and

financial position, which he now recalled, it was interesting to him to see how deliberately and even

calculatinglyand worse, enthusiastically he was pumping the bellows that tended only to heighten the

flames of his desire for this girl; to feed a fire that might ultimately consume himand how deliberately and

Aileen toyed aimlessly with her fan as a blackhaired, thinfaced young law student talked to her, and seeing

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

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

"No, I didn't," complained Norah, as though it were most essential that she should. "How late are you going

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

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

"I want to find Callum. He has to dance with me next time. I know what he's trying to do. He's trying to get

Aileen smiled. Norah looked very sweet. And she was so bright. What would she think of her if she knew?

She turned back, and her fourth partner sought her. She began talking gayly, for she felt that she had to make

a show of composure; but all the while there was ringing in her ears that definite question of his, "You like

me, don't you?" and her later uncertain but not less truthful answer, "Yes, of course I do."

The growth of a passion is a very peculiar thing. In highly organized intellectual and artistic types it is so

often apt to begin with keen appreciation of certain qualities, modified by many, many mental reservations.

The egoist, the intellectual, gives but little of himself and asks much. Nevertheless, the lover of life, male or

female, finding himself or herself in sympathetic accord with such a nature, is apt to gain much.

Cowperwood was innately and primarily an egoist and intellectual, though blended strongly therewith, was a

humane and democratic spirit. We think of egoism and intellectualism as closely confined to the arts. Finance

is an art. And it presents the operations of the subtlest of the intellectuals and of the egoists. Cowperwood

was a financier. Instead of dwelling on the works of nature, its beauty and subtlety, to his material

disadvantage, he found a happy mean, owing to the swiftness of his intellectual operations, whereby he could,

intellectually and emotionally, rejoice in the beauty of life without interfering with his perpetual material and

financial calculations. And when it came to women and morals, which involved so much relating to beauty,

happiness, a sense of distinction and variety in living, he was but now beginning to suspect for himself at

least that apart from maintaining organized society in its present form there was no basis for this onelife,

onelove idea. How had it come about that so many people agreed on this single point, that it was good and

necessary to marry one woman and cleave to her until death? He did not know. It was not for him to bother

about the subtleties of evolution, which even then was being noised abroad, or to ferret out the curiosities of

history in connection with this matter. He had no time. Suffice it that the vagaries of temperament and

conditions with which he came into immediate contact proved to him that there was great dissatisfaction with

that idea. People did not cleave to each other until death; and in thousands of cases where they did, they did

not want to. Quickness of mind, subtlety of idea, fortuitousness of opportunity, made it possible for some

people to right their matrimonial and social infelicities; whereas for others, because of dullness of wit,

thickness of comprehension, poverty, and lack of charm, there was no escape from the slough of their

despond. They were compelled by some devilish accident of birth or lack of force or resourcefulness to stew

in their own juice of wretchedness, or to shuffle off this mortal coilwhich under other circumstances had

such glittering possibilitiesvia the rope, the knife, the bullet, or the cup of poison.

"I would die, too," he thought to himself, one day, reading of a man who, confined by disease and poverty,

had lived for twelve years alone in a back bedroom attended by an old and probably decrepit housekeeper. A

darningneedle forced into his heart had ended his earthly woes. "To the devil with such a life! Why twelve

Again, it was so very evident, in so many ways, that force was the answergreat mental and physical force.

Why, these giants of commerce and money could do as they pleased in this life, and did. He had already had

ample local evidence of it in more than one direction. Worsethe little guardians of socalled law and

morality, the newspapers, the preachers, the police, and the public moralists generally, so loud in their

denunciation of evil in humble places, were cowards all when it came to corruption in high ones. They did

not dare to utter a feeble squeak until some giant had accidentally fallen and they could do so without danger

to themselves. Then, O Heavens, the palaver! What beatings of tomtoms! What mouthings of pharisaical

moralitiesplatitudes! Run now, good people, for you may see clearly how evil is dealt with in high places!

It made him smile. Such hypocrisy! Such cant! Still, so the world was organized, and it was not for him to set

it right. Let it wag as it would. The thing for him to do was to get rich and hold his ownto build up a

seeming of virtue and dignity which would pass muster for the genuine thing. Force would do that. Quickness

of wit. And he had these. "I satisfy myself," was his motto; and it might well have been emblazoned upon any

coat of arms which he could have contrived to set forth his claim to intellectual and social nobility.

But this matter of Aileen was up for consideration and solution at this present moment, and because of his

forceful, determined character he was presently not at all disturbed by the problem it presented. It was a

problem, like some of those knotty financial complications which presented themselves daily; but it was not

insoluble. What did he want to 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 his children 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 to leave his

growing interests, and at the same time he did not intend to give up Aileen immediately. The unheralded

manifestation of interest on her part was too attractive. Mrs. Cowperwood was no longer what she should be

physically and mentally, and that in itself to him was sufficient to justify his present interest in this girl. Why

fear anything, if only he could figure out a way to achieve it without harm to himself? At the same time he

thought it might never be possible for him to figure out any practical or protective program for either himself

or Aileen, and that made him silent and reflective. For by now he was intensely drawn to her, as he could

feelsomething chemic and hence dynamic was uppermost in him now and clamoring for expression.

At the same time, in contemplating his wife in connection with all this, he had many qualms, some emotional,

some financial. While she had yielded to his youthful enthusiasm for her after her husband's death, he had

only since learned that she was a natural conservator of public moralsthe cold purity of the snowdrift in so

far as the world might see, combined at times with the murky mood of the wanton. And yet, as he had also

learned, she was ashamed of the passion that at times swept and dominated her. This irritated Cowperwood,

as it would always irritate any strong, acquisitive, directseeing temperament. While he had no desire to

acquaint the whole world with his feelings, why should there be concealment between them, or at least

mental evasion of a fact which physically she subscribed to? Why do one thing and think another? To be

sure, she was devoted to him in her quiet way, not passionately (as he looked back he could not say that she

had ever been that), but intellectually. Duty, as she understood it, played a great part in this. She was dutiful.

And then what people thought, what the timespirit demandedthese were the great things. Aileen, on the

contrary, was probably not dutiful, and it was obvious that she had no temperamental connection with current

convention. No doubt she had been as well instructed as many another girl, but look at her. She was not

In the next three months this relationship took on a more flagrant form. Aileen, knowing full well what her

parents would think, how unspeakable in the mind of the current world were the thoughts she was thinking,

persisted, nevertheless, in so thinking and longing. Cowperwood, now that she had gone thus far and

compromised herself in intention, if not in deed, took on a peculiar charm for her. It was not his bodygreat

passion is never that, exactly. The flavor of his spirit was what attracted and compelled, like the glow of a

flame to a moth. There was a light of romance in his eyes, which, however governed and controlledwas

When he touched her hand at parting, it was as though she had received an electric shock, and she recalled

that it was very difficult for her to look directly into his eyes. Something akin to a destructive force seemed to

issue from them at times. Other people, men particularly, found it difficult to face Cowperwood's glazed

stare. It was as though there were another pair of eyes behind those they saw, watching through thin,

And during the next few months she found herself coming closer and closer to Cowperwood. At his home

one evening, seated at the piano, no one else being present at the moment, he leaned over and kissed her.

There was a cold, snowy street visible through the interstices of the hangings of the windows, and gaslamps

flickering outside. He had come in early, and hearing Aileen, he came to where she was seated at the piano.

She was wearing a rough, gray wool cloth dress, ornately banded with fringed Oriental embroidery in blue

and burntorange, and her beauty 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 or five rings, far too manyan opal, an emerald,

She knew it was he, without turning. He came beside her, and she looked up smiling, the reverie evoked by

Schubert partly vanishing or melting into another mood. Suddenly he bent over and pressed his lips firmly

to hers. His mustache thrilled her with its silky touch. She stopped playing and tried to catch her breath, for,

strong as she was, it affected her breathing. Her heart was beating like a triphammer. She did not say, "Oh,"

or, "You mustn't," but rose and walked over to a window, where she lifted a curtain, pretending to look out.

Cowperwood followed her quickly. Slipping his arms about her waist, he looked at her flushed cheeks, her

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

"I love you," he said, as though he were surprised to hear himself say it. "I didn't think I did, but I do. You're

"And I love you" she answered. "I can't help it. I know I shouldn't, butoh" Her hands closed tight over

his ears and temples. She put her lips to his and dreamed into his eyes. Then she stepped away quickly,

looking out into the street, and he walked back into the livingroom. They were quite alone. He was debating

whether he should risk anything further when Norah, having been in to see Anna next door, appeared and not

This definite and final understanding having been reached, it was but natural that this liaison should proceed

to a closer and closer relationship. Despite her religious upbringing, Aileen was decidedly a victim of her

temperament. Current religious feeling and belief could not control her. For the past nine or ten years there

had been slowly forming in her mind a notion of what her lover should be like. He should be strong,

handsome, direct, successful, with clear eyes, a ruddy glow of health, and a certain native understanding and

sympathya love of life which matched her own. Many young men had approached her. Perhaps the 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 ever passed 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 and contact, 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 forces could have been introduced just at this

time. Emotions and liaisons of this character can, of course, occasionally be broken up and destroyed. The

characters of the individuals can be modified or changed to a certain extent, but the force must be quite

sufficient. Fear is a great deterrentfear of material loss where there is no spiritual dreadbut wealth and

position so often tend to destroy this dread. It is so easy to scheme with means. Aileen had no spiritual dread

whatever. Cowperwood was without spiritual or religious feeling. He looked at this girl, and his one thought

was how could he so deceive the world that he could enjoy her love and leave his present state undisturbed.

Business necessitated his calling at the Butlers' quite frequently, and on each occasion he saw Aileen. She

managed to slip forward and squeeze his hand the first time he cameto steal a quick, vivid kiss; and

another time, as he was going out, she suddenly appeared from behind the curtains hanging at the parlor door.

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

She stood there, holding out one hand, and he stepped forward for a second. Instantly her arms were about his

He released her arms, and went out, and she ran to the window and looked out after him. He was walking

west on the street, for his house was only a few blocks away, and she looked at the breadth of his shoulders,

the balance of his form. He stepped so briskly, so incisively. Ah, this was a man! He was her Frank. She

thought of him in that light already. Then she sat down at the piano and played pensively until dinner.

And it was so easy for the resourceful mind of Frank Cowperwood, wealthy as he was, to suggest ways and

means. In his younger gallivantings about places of ill repute, and his subsequent occasional variations from

the straight and narrow path, he had learned much of the curious resources of immorality. Being a city of five

hundred thousand and more at this time, Philadelphia had its nondescript hotels, where one might go,

cautiously and fairly protected from observation; and there were houses of a conservative, residential

character, where appointments might be made, for a consideration. And as for safeguards against the

production of new lifethey were not mysteries to him any longer. He knew all about them. Care was the

point of caution. He had to be cautious, for he was so rapidly coming to be an influential and a distinguished

man. Aileen, of course, was not conscious, except in a vague way, of the drift of her passion; the ultimate

destiny to which this affection might lead was not clear to her. Her craving was for loveto be fondled and

caressedand she really did not think so much further. Further thoughts along this line were like rats that

showed their heads out of dark holes in shadowy corners and scuttled back at the least sound. And, anyhow,

all that was to be connected with Cowperwood would be beautiful. She really 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 his wife. She

did not think she did. But it would not hurt Mrs. Cowperwood if Frank loved herAileenalso.

How shall we explain these subtleties of temperament and desire? Life has to deal with them at every turn.

They will not down, and the large, placid movements of nature outside of man's little organisms would

indicate that she is not greatly concerned. We see much punishment in the form of jails, diseases, failures,

and wrecks; but we also see that the old tendency is not visibly lessened. Is there no law outside of the subtle

will and power of the individual to achieve? If not, it is surely high time that we knew itone and all. We

might then agree to do as we do; but there would be no silly illusion as to divine regulation. Vox populi, vox

So there were other meetings, lovely hours which they soon began to spend the moment her passion waxed

warm enough to assure compliance, without great fear and without thought of the deadly risk involved. From

odd 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 head and neglect his business. As a matter of fact, the more he thought of this rather unexpected

affectional development, the more certain he was that he must not let it interfere with his business time and

judgment. His office required his full attention from nine until three, anyhow. He could give it until

fivethirty with profit; but he could take several afternoons off, from threethirty until fivethirty or six, and

no one would be the wiser. It was customary for Aileen to drive alone almost every afternoon a spirited pair

of bays, or to ride a mount, bought by her father for her from a noted horsedealer in Baltimore. Since

Cowperwood also drove and rode, it was not difficult to arrange meetingplaces far out on the Wissahickon

or the Schuylkill road. There were many spots in the newly laidout park, which were as free from

interruption as the depths of a forest. It was always possible that they might encounter some one; but it was

also always possible to make a rather plausible explanation, or none at all, since even in case of such an

So, for the time being there was lovemaking, the usual billing and cooing of lovers in a simple and much

less than final fashion; and the lovely horseback rides together under the green trees of the approaching

spring were idyllic. Cowperwood awakened to a sense of joy in life such as he fancied, in the blush of this

new desire, he had never experienced before. Lillian had been lovely in those early days in which he had first

called on her in North Front Street, and he had fancied himself unspeakably happy at that time; but that was

nearly ten years since, and he had forgotten. Since then he had had no great passion, no notable liaison; and

then, all at once, in the midst of his new, great business prosperity, Aileen. Her young body and soul, her

passionate illusions. He could see always, for all her daring, that she knew so little of the calculating, brutal

world with which he was connected. Her father had given her all the toys she wanted without stint; her

mother and brothers had coddled her, particularly her mother. Her young sister thought she was adorable. No

one imagined for one moment that Aileen would ever do anything wrong. She was too sensible, after all, too

eager to get up in the world. Why should she, when her life lay open and happy before hera delightful

"When you marry, Aileen," her mother used to say to her, "we'll have a grand time here. Sure we'll do the

house over then, if we don't do it before. Eddie will have to fix it up, or I'll do it meself. Never fear."

Butler himself used to strike her jovially on the shoulder in a rough, loving way, and ask, "Well, have you

If she said, "No," he would reply: "Well, he will be, never fearworse luck. I'll hate to see ye go, girlie! You

can stay here as long as ye want to, and ye want to remember that you can always come back."

Aileen paid very little attention to this bantering. She loved her father, but it was all such a matter of course.

It was the commonplace of her existence, and not so very significant, though delightful enough.

But how eagerly she yielded herself to Cowperwood under the spring trees these 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 doubtful

about himself. His growing liberties for himself seemed natural enough, but in a sense of fairness to her he

began to talk to her about what their love might involve. Would she? Did she understand? This phase of it

puzzled and frightened Aileen a little at first. She stood before him one afternoon in her black ridinghabit

and high silk ridinghat perched jauntily on her redgold hair; and striking her ridingskirt with her short

whip, pondering doubtfully as she listened. He had asked her whether she knew what she was doing? Whither

they were drifting? If she loved him truly enough? The two horses were tethered in a thicket a score of yards

away from the main road and from the bank of a tumbling stream, which they had approached. She was

trying to discover if she could see them. It was pretense. There was no interest in her glance. She was

thinking of him and the smartness of his habit, and the exquisiteness of this moment. He had such a charming

calico pony. The leaves were just enough developed to make a diaphanous lacework of green. It was like

looking through a greenspangled arras to peer into the woods beyond or behind. The gray stones were

already faintly messy where the water rippled and sparkled, and early birds were callingrobins and

"Baby mine," he said, "do you understand all about this? Do you know exactly what you're doing when you

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

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

"Sweet, you're so beautiful," he said finally, "I can't give you up. I know what I ought to do. You know, too, I

suppose; but I can't. I must have you. If this should end in exposure, it would be quite bad for you and me. Do

"I don't know your brothers very well; but from looking at them I judge they're pretty determined people.

"They would probably want to kill me, and very promptly, for just this much. What do you think they would

"You know it can't stop this way, don't you? You know it. This isn't the 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, there would be a great deal to settle for. Mrs.

Cowperwood would never give me a divorce; she has no reason to. If I should clean up in the way I hope

toif I should make a millionI wouldn't mind knocking off now. I don't expect to work all my days. I

have always planned to knock off at thirtyfive. I'll have enough by that time. Then I want to travel. It will

only be a few more years now. If you were freeif your father and mother were dead"curiously she did

He paused. She still gazed thoughtfully at the water below, her mind running out to a yacht on the sea with

him, a palace somewhere just they two. Her eyes, half closed, saw this happy world; and, listening to him,

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

"I've taken a house in North Tenth Street," he said finally, as they walked over to the horses and mounted

them. "It isn't furnished yet; but it will be soon. I know a woman who will take charge."

"An interesting widow of nearly fifty. Very intelligentshe is attractive, and knows a good deal of life. I

found her through an advertisement. You might call on her some afternoon when things are arranged, and

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

"Will you? It will be all right. You might know her. She isn't objectionable in any way. Will you?"

The vagaries of passion! Subtleties! Risks! What sacrifices are not laid willfully upon its altar! In a little

while this more than average residence to which Cowperwood had referred was prepared solely to effect a

satisfactory method of concealment. The house was governed by a seemingly recentlybereaved widow, and

it was possible for Aileen to call without seeming strangely out of place. In such surroundings, and under

such circumstances, it was not difficult to persuade her to give herself wholly to her lover, governed as she

was by her wild and unreasoning affection and passion. In a way, there was a saving element of love, for

truly, above all others, she wanted this man. She had no thought or feeling toward any other. All her mind ran

toward visions of the future, when, somehow, she and he might be together for all time. Mrs. Cowperwood

might die, or he might run away with her at thirtyfive when he had a million. Some adjustment would be

made, somehow. Nature had given her this man. She relied on him implicitly. When he told her that he would

take care of her so that nothing evil should befall, she believed him fully. Such sins are the commonplaces of

It is a curious fact that by some subtlety of logic in the Christian world, it has come to be believed that there

can be no love outside the conventional process of courtship and marriage. One life, one love, is the Christian

idea, and into this sluice or mold it has been endeavoring to compress the whole world. Pagan thought held

no such belief. A writing of divorce for trivial causes was the theory of the elders; and in the primeval world

nature apparently holds no scheme for the unity of two beyond the temporary care of the young. That the

modern home is the most beautiful of schemes, when based upon mutual sympathy and understanding

between two, need not be questioned. And yet this fact should not necessarily carry with it a condemnation of

all love not so fortunate as to find so happy a denouement. Life cannot be put into any mold, and the attempt

might as well be abandoned at once. Those so fortunate as to find harmonious companionship for life should

congratulate themselves and strive to be worthy of it. Those not so blessed, though they be written down as

pariahs, have yet some justification. And, besides, whether we will or not, theory or no theory, the basic facts

of chemistry and physics remain. Like is drawn to like. Changes in temperament bring changes in

relationship. Dogma may bind some minds; fear, others. But there are always those in whom the chemistry

and physics of life are large, and in whom neither dogma nor fear is operative. Society lifts its hands in

horror; but from age to age the Helens, the Messalinas, the Du Barrys, the Pompadours, the Maintenons, and

the Nell Gwyns flourish and point a freer basis of relationship than we have yet been able to square with our

These two felt unutterably bound to each other. Cowperwood, once he came to understand her, fancied that

he had found the one person with whom he could live happily the rest of his life. She was so young, so

confident, so hopeful, so undismayed. All these months since they had first begun to reach out to each other

he had been hourly contrasting her with his wife. As a matter of fact, his dissatisfaction, though it may be said

to have been faint up to this time, was now surely tending to become real enough. Still, his children were

pleasing to him; his home beautiful. Lillian, phlegmatic and now thin, was still not homely. All these years he

had found her satisfactory enough; but now his dissatisfaction with her began to increase. She was not like

Aileennot young, not vivid, not as unschooled in the commonplaces of life. And while ordinarily, he was

not one who was inclined to be querulous, still now on occasion, he could be. He began by asking questions

concerning his wife's appearanceirritating little whys which are so trivial and yet so exasperating and

discouraging to a woman. Why didn't she get a mauve hat nearer the shade of her dress? Why didn't she go

out more? Exercise would 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 felt the undertonethe real significanceand took

"Oh, whywhy?" she retorted, one day, curtly. "Why do you ask so many questions? You don't care so

He leaned back startled by the thrust. It had not been based on any evidence of anything save his recent

remarks; but he was not absolutely sure. He was just the least bit sorry that he had irritated her, and he said

"Oh, it's all right," she replied. "I don't care. But I notice that you don't pay as much attention to me as you

used to. It's your business now, first, last, and all the time. You can't get your mind off of that."

But after a little time, as he grew more and more in sympathy with Aileen, he was not so disturbed as to

whether his wife might suspect or not. He began to think on occasion, as his mind followed the various

ramifications of the situation, that it would be better if she did. She was really not of the contentious fighting

sort. He now decided because of various calculations in regard to her character that she might not offer as

much resistance to some ultimate rearrangement, as he had originally imagined. She might even divorce him.

Desire, dreams, even in him were evoking calculations not as sound as those which ordinarily generated in

No, as he now said to himself, the rub was not nearly so much in his own home, as it was in the Butler

family. His relations with Edward Malia Butler had become very intimate. He was now advising with him

constantly in 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

Reading Railroad. As the old gentleman's mind had broadened to the significance of the local streetrailway

problem in Philadelphia, he had decided to close out his other securities at such advantageous terms as he

could, and reinvest the money in local lines. He knew that Mollenhauer and Simpson were doing this, and

they were excellent judges of the significance of local affairs. Like Cowperwood, he had the idea that if he

controlled sufficient of the local situation in this field, he could at last effect a joint relationship with

Mollenhauer and Simpson. Political legislation, advantageous to the combined lines, could then be so easily

secured. Franchises and necessary extensions to existing franchises could be added. This conversion of his

outstanding stock in other fields, and the picking up of odd lots in the local streetrailway, was the business

of Cowperwood. Butler, through his sons, Owen and Callum, was also busy planning a new line and

obtaining a franchise, sacrificing, of course, great blocks of stock and actual cash to others, in order to obtain

sufficient influence to have the necessary legislation passed. Yet it was no easy matter, seeing that others

knew what the general advantages of the situation were, and because of this Cowperwood, who saw the great

source of profit here, was able, betimes, to serve himselfbuying blocks, a part of which only went to

Butler, Mollenhauer or others. In short he was not as eager to serve Butler, or any one else, as he was to serve

In this connection, the scheme which George W. Stener had brought forward, representing actually in the

background Strobik, Wycroft, and Harmon, was an opening wedge for himself. Stener's plan was to loan him

money out of the city treasury at two per cent., or, if he would waive all commissions, for nothing (an agent

for selfprotective purposes was absolutely necessary), and with it take over the North Pennsylvania

Company's line on Front Street, which, because of the shortness of its length, one mile and a half, and the

brevity of the duration of its franchise, was neither doing very well nor being rated very high. Cowperwood

in return for his manipulative skill was to have a fair proportion of the stocktwenty per cent. Strobik and

Wycroft knew the parties from whom the bulk of the stock could be secured if engineered properly. Their

plan was then, with this borrowed treasury money, to extend its franchise and then the line itself, and then

later again, by issuing a great block of stock and hypothecating it with a favored bank, be able to return the

principal to the city treasury and pocket their profits from the line as earned. There was no trouble in this, in

so far as Cowperwood was concerned, except that it divided the stock very badly among these various

individuals, and left him but a comparatively small sharefor his thought and pains.

But Cowperwood was an opportunist. And by this time his financial morality had become special and local in

its character. He did not think it was wise for any one to steal anything from anybody where the act of taking

or profiting was directly and plainly considered stealing. That was unwisedangeroushence wrong. There

were so many situations wherein what one might do in the way of taking or profiting was open to discussion

and doubt. Morality varied, in his mind at least, with conditions, if not climates. Here, in Philadelphia, the

tradition (politically, mind younot generally) was that the city treasurer might use the money of the city

without interest so long as he returned the principal intact. The city treasury and the city treasurer were like a

honeyladen hive and a queen bee around which the dronesthe politiciansswarmed in the hope of profit.

The one disagreeable thing in connection with this transaction with Stener was that neither Butler,

Mollenhauer nor Simpson, who were the actual superiors of Stener and Strobik, 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 refused to make advantageous deals with Stener or

any other man influential in local affairs, he was cutting off his nose to spite his face, for other bankers and

brokers would, and gladly. And besides it was not at all certain that Butler, Mollenhauer, and Simpson would

In this connection, there was another line, which he rode on occasionally, the Seventeenth and Nineteenth

Street line, which he felt was a much more interesting thing for him to think about, if he could raise the

money. It had been originally capitalized for five hundred thousand dollars; but there had been a series of

bonds to the value of two hundred and fifty thousand dollars added for improvements, and the company was

finding great difficulty in meeting the interest. The bulk of the stock was scattered about among small

investors, and it would require all of two hundred and fifty thousand dollars to collect it and have himself

elected president or chairman of the board of directors. Once in, however, he could vote this stock as he

pleased, hypothecating it meanwhile at his father's bank for as much as he could get, and issuing more stocks

with which to bribe legislators in the matter of extending the line, and in taking up other opportunities to

either add to it by purchase or supplement it by working agreements. The word "bribe" is used here in this

matteroffact American way, because bribery was what was in every one's mind in connection with the

State legislature. Terrence Relihanthe small, darkfaced Irishman, a dandy in dress and mannerswho

represented the financial interests at Harrisburg, and who had come to Cowperwood after the five million

bond deal had been printed, had told him that nothing could be done at the capital without money, or its

equivalent, negotiable securities. Each significant legislator, if he yielded his vote or his influence, must be

looked after. If he, Cowperwood, had any scheme which he wanted handled at any time, Relihan had

intimated to him that he would be glad to talk with him. Cowperwood had figured on this Seventeenth and

Nineteenth Street line scheme more than once, but he had never felt quite sure that he was willing to

undertake it. His obligations in other directions were so large. But the lure was there, and he pondered and

Stener's scheme of loaning him money wherewith to manipulate the North Pennsylvania line deal put this

Seventeenth and Nineteenth Street dream in a more favorable light. As it was he was constantly watching the

certificates of loan issue, for the city treasury, buying large quantities when the market was falling to

protect it and selling heavily, though cautiously, when he saw it rising and to do this he had to have a great

deal of free money to permit him to do it. He was constantly fearful of some break in the market which would

affect the value 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 happen in reason; but he did not want to spread himself out too thin. As he saw it

now, therefore if he took one hundred and fifty thousand dollars of this city money and went after this

Seventeenth and Nineteenth Street matter it would not mean that he was spreading himself out too thin, for

because of this new proposition could he not call on Stener for more as a loan in connection with these other

"Frank," said Stener, strolling into his office one afternoon after four o'clock when the main rush of the day's

work was over the relationship between Cowperwood and Stener had long since reached the "Frank" and

"George" period"Strobik thinks he has that North Pennsylvania deal arranged so that we can take it up if

we want to. The principal stockholder, we find, is a man by the name of Coltannot Ike Colton, but

Things had changed considerably for him since the days when he had been fortuitously and almost

indifferently made city treasurer. His method of 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 permitted to see himself as had those who had known him before. An

old, nervous shifting of the eyes had almost ceased, and a feeling of restfulness, which had previously been

restlessness, and had sprung from a sense of necessity, had taken its place. His large feet were incased in

good, squaretoed, softleather shoes; his stocky chest and fat legs were made somewhat agreeable to the eye

by a wellcut suit of brownishgray cloth; and his neck was now surrounded by a low, wingpoint white

collar and brownsilk tie. His ample chest, which spread out a little lower in around and constantly enlarging

stomach, was ornamented by a heavylink gold chain, and his white cuffs had large gold cuffbuttons set

with rubies of a very notable size. He was rosy and decidedly well fed. In fact, he was doing very well

He had moved his family from a shabby twostory frame house in South Ninth Street to a very comfortable

brick one three stories in height, and three times as large, on Spring Garden Street. His wife had a few

acquaintancesthe wives of other politicians. His children were attending the high school, a thing he had

hardly hoped for in earlier days. He was now the owner of fourteen or fifteen pieces of cheap real estate in

different portions of the city, which might eventually become very valuable, and he was a silent partner in the

South Philadelphia Foundry Company and the American Beef and Pork Company, two corporations on paper

whose principal business was subletting contracts secured from the city to the humble butchers and

foundrymen who would carry out orders as given and not talk too much or ask questions.

"Well, that is an odd name," said Cowperwood, blandly. "So he has it? I never 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 Kensington section."

"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 basis of the number of shares Cotton was holding"one hundred and twenty

thousand to get him out alone. That isn't all. There's Judge Kitchen and Joseph Zimmerman and Senator

Donovan" he was referring to the State senator of that name. "You'll be paying a pretty fair price for that

stud 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 with his dreamedof Seventeenth and

"Say, George, why do you work all your schemes through Strobik and Harmon and Wycroft? Couldn't you

and I manage some of these things for ourselves alone instead of for three or four? It seems to me that plan

"It would, it would!" exclaimed Stener, his round eyes fixed on Cowperwood in a rather helpless, appealing

way. He liked Cowperwood and had always been hoping that mentally as well as financially he could get

close to him. "I've thought of that. But these fellows have had more experience in these matters than I have

had, Frank. They've been longer at the game. I don't know as much about these things as they do."

"Don't worry about them, George," he continued genially and confidentially. "You and I together can know

and do as much as they ever could and more. I'm telling you. Take this railroad deal you're in on now,

George; you and I could manipulate that just as well and better than it can be done with Wycroft, Strobik, and

Harmon in on it. They're not adding anything to the wisdom of the situation. They're not putting up any

money. You're doing that. All they're doing is agreeing to see it through the legislature and the council, and as

far as the legislature is concerned, they can't do any more with that than any one else couldthan I could, for

instance. It's all a question of arranging things with Relihan, anyhow, putting up a certain amount of money

for him to work with. Here in town there are other people who can reach the council just as well as Strobik."

He was thinking (once he controlled a road of his own) of conferring with Butler and getting him to use his

influence. It would serve to quiet Strobik and his friends. "I'm not asking you to change your plans on this

North Pennsylvania deal. You couldn't do that very well. But there are other things. In the future why 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

The truth was, they had done exceedingly well. Aside from what the higher powers had made, Stener's new

house, his lots, his bankaccount, his good clothes, and his changed and comfortable sense of life were

largely due to Cowperwood's successful manipulation of these cityloan certificates. Already there had been

four issues of two hundred thousand dollars each. Cowperwood had bought and sold nearly three million

dollars' worth of these certificates, acting one time as a "bull" and another as a "bear." Stener was now worth

"There's a line that I know of here in the city which could be made into a splendidly paying property,"

continued Cowperwood, meditatively, "if the right things could be done with it. Just like this North

Pennsylvania line, it isn't long enough. The territory it serves isn't big enough. It ought to be extended; but if

you and I could get it, it might eventually be worked with this North Pennsylvania Company or some other as

one company. That would save officers and offices and a lot of things. There is always money to be made out

He paused and looked out the window of his handsome little hardwood office, speculating upon the future.

The window gave nowhere save into a back yard behind another office building which had formerly been a

residence. Some grass grew feebly there. The red wall and oldfashioned brick fence which divided it from

the next lot reminded him somehow of his old home in New Market Street, to which his Uncle Seneca used

to come as a Cuban trader followed by his black Portuguese servitor. He could see him now as he sat here

"Well," asked Stener, ambitiously, taking the bait, "why don't we get hold of thatyou and me? I suppose I

"I don't know exactly," he said, after a time. "I want to look into it more carefully. The one trouble is that I'm

carrying a good deal of the city's money as it is. You see, I have that two hundred thousand dollars against

your cityloan deals. And this new scheme will take two or three hundred thousand more. If that were out of

He was thinking of one of the inexplicable stock panicsthose strange American depressions which had so

much to do with the temperament of the people, and so little to do with the basic conditions of the country.

"Don't ask me any more about it, George," he said, finally, as he saw that 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 exactly right, and then I'll

talk to you. I think you and I can do this thing a little later, when we get the North Pennsylvania scheme

under way. I'm so rushed just now I'm not sure that I want to undertake it at once; but you keep quiet and

"I'll make any sized deposit with you that you wish, the moment you think you're ready to act, Frank,"

exclaimed Stener, and with the thought that Cowperwood was not nearly as anxious to do this as he should

be, since he could always rely on him (Stener) when there was anything really profitable in the offing. Why

should not the able and wonderful Cowperwood be allowed to make the two of them rich? "Just notify Stires,

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

Stener kicked his stout legs to straighten his trousers, and extended his 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 rich man, for

Cowperwood was so successful and so cautious. His new house, this beautiful banking office, his growing

fame, and his subtle connections with Butler and others put Stener in considerable awe of him. Another line!

They would control it and the North Pennsylvania! Why, if this went on, he might become a magnatehe

really mighthe, George W. Stener, once a cheap realestate and insurance agent. He strolled up the street

thinking, but with no more idea of the importance of his civic duties and the nature of the social ethics against

The services which Cowperwood performed during the ensuing year and a half for Stener, Strobik, Butler,

State Treasurer Van Nostrand, State Senator Relihan, representative of "the interests," socalled, at

Harrisburg, and various banks which were friendly to these gentlemen, were numerous and confidential. For

Stener, Strobik, Wycroft, Harmon and himself he executed the North Pennsylvania deal, by which he became

a holder of a fifth of the controlling stock. Together he and Stener joined to purchase the Seventeenth and

By the summer of 1871, when Cowperwood was nearly thirtyfour years of age, he had a banking business

estimated at nearly two million dollars, personal holdings aggregating nearly half a million, and prospects

which other things being equal looked to wealth which might rival that of any American. The city, through its

treasurer still Mr. Stenerwas a depositor with him to the extent of nearly five hundred thousand dollars.

The State, through its State treasurer, Van Nostrand, carried two hundred thousand dollars on his books. Bode

was speculating in streetrailway stocks to the extent of fifty thousand dollars. Relihan to the same amount.

A small army of politicians and political hangerson were on his books for various sums. And for Edward

Malia Butler he occasionally carried as high as one hundred thousand dollars in margins. His own loans at the

banks, varying from day to day on variously hypothecated securities, were as high as seven and eight hundred

thousand dollars. Like a spider in a spangled net, every thread of which he knew, had laid, had tested, he had

surrounded and entangled himself in a splendid, glittering network of connections, and he was watching all

His one pet idea, the thing he put more faith in than anything else, was his streetrailway manipulations, and

particularly his actual control of the 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 the Seventeenth and Nineteenth Street line

was at a low ebb, he had managed to pick up fiftyone 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, to get this stock at his own

valuation. Through agents he caused suits for damages to be brought against the company for nonpayment

of interest due. A little stock in the hands of a hireling, a request made to a court of record to examine the

books of the company in order to determine whether a receivership were not advisable, a simultaneous attack

in the stock market, selling at three, five, seven, and ten points off, brought the frightened stockholders into

the market with their holdings. The banks considered the line a poor risk, and called their loans in connection

with it. His father's bank had made one loan to one of the principal stockholders, and that was promptly

called, of course. Then, through an agent, the several heaviest shareholders were approached and an offer was

made to help them out. The stocks would be taken off their hands at forty. They had not really been able to

discover the source of all their woes; and they imagined that the road was in bad condition, which it was not.

Better let it go. The money was immediately forthcoming, and Cowperwood and Stener jointly controlled

fiftyone 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 fiftyone per cent. of the stock, and Stener

This intoxicated him, for immediately he saw the opportunity of fulfilling his longcontemplated

dreamthat of reorganizing the company in conjunction with the North Pennsylvania line, issuing three

shares where one had been before and after unloading all but a control on the general public, using the money

secured to buy into other lines which were to be boomed and sold in the same way. In short, he was one of

those early, daring manipulators who later were to seize upon other and ever larger phases of American

In connection with this first consolidation, his plan was to spread rumors of the coming consolidation of the

two lines, to appeal to the legislature for privileges of extension, to get up an arresting prospectus and later

annual reports, and to boom the stock on the stock exchange as much as his swelling resources would permit.

The trouble is that when you are trying to make a market for a stockto unload a large issue such as his was

(over five hundred thousand dollars' worth)while retaining five hundred thousand for yourself, it requires

large capital to handle it. The owner in these cases is compelled not only to go on the market and do much

fictitious buying, thus creating a fictitious demand, but once this fictitious demand has deceived the public

and he has 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 this instance,

and retained five thousand, he must see that the public price of the outstanding five thousand shares did not

fall below a certain point, because the value of his private shares would fall with it. And if, as is almost

always the case, the private shares had been hypothecated with banks and trust companies for money

wherewith to conduct other enterprises, the falling of their value in the open market merely meant that the

banks would call for large margins to protect their loans or call their loans entirely. This meant that his work

was a failure, and he might readily fail. He was already conducting one such difficult campaign in connection

with this cityloan deal, the price of which varied from day to day, and which he was only too anxious to

But this second burden, interesting enough as it was, meant that he had to be doubly watchful. Once the stock

was sold at a high price, the money borrowed from the city treasurer could be returned; his own holdings

created out of foresight, by capitalizing the future, by writing the shrewd prospectuses and reports, would be

worth their face value, or little less. He would have money to invest in other lines. He might obtain the

financial direction of the whole, in which case he would be worth millions. One shrewd thing he did, which

indicated the foresight and subtlety of the man, was to make a separate organization or 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 to extend it two or three miles farther on the same street, instead of including this extension in the

existing corporation, he would make a second corporation to control the additional two or three miles of right

of way. This corporation he would capitalize at so much, and issue stocks and bonds for its construction,

equipment, and manipulation. Having done this he would then take the subcorporation over into the parent

concern, issuing more stocks and bonds of the parent company wherewith to do it, and, of course, selling

these bonds to the public. Even his brothers who worked for him did not know the various ramifications of

his numerous deals, and executed his orders blindly. Sometimes Joseph said to Edward, in a puzzled way,

On the other hand, he was most careful to see that every current obligation was instantly met, and even

anticipated, for he wanted to make a great show of regularity. Nothing was so precious as reputation and

standing. His forethought, caution, and promptness pleased the bankers. They thought he was one of the

However, by the spring and summer of 1871, Cowperwood had actually, without being in any conceivable

danger from any source, spread himself out very thin. Because of his great success he had grown more

liberaleasierin his financial ventures. By degrees, and largely because of his own confidence in himself,

he had induced his father to enter upon his streetcar speculations, to use the resources of the Third National

to carry a part of his loans and to furnish capital at such times as quick resources were necessary. In the

beginning the old gentleman had been a little nervous and skeptical, but as time had worn on and nothing but

"Frank," he would say, looking up over his spectacles, "aren't you afraid you're going a little too fast in these

"No more than I ever did, father, considering my resources. You can't turn large deals without large loans.

"Yes, I know, butnow that Green and Coatesaren't you going pretty strong there?"

"Not at all. I know the inside conditions there. The stock is bound to go up eventually. I'll bull it up. I'll

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

"You needn't worry about me, father. If you are going to do that, call my loans. Other banks will loan on my

So Cowperwood, Sr., was convinced. There was no gainsaying this argument. His bank was loaning Frank

heavily, but not more so than any other. And as for the great blocks of stocks he was carrying in his son's

companies, he was to be told when to get out should that prove necessary. Frank's brothers were being aided

in the same way to make money on the side, and their interests were also now bound up indissolubly with his

With his growing financial opportunities, however, Cowperwood had also grown very liberal in what might

be termed his standard of living. Certain young art dealers in Philadelphia, learning of his artistic inclinations

and his growing wealth, had followed him up with suggestions as to furniture, tapestries, rugs, objects of art,

and paintingsat first the American and later the foreign masters exclusively. His own and his father's house

had not been furnished fully in these matters, and there was that other house in North Tenth Street, which he

desired to make beautiful. Aileen had always objected to the condition of her own home. Love of

distinguished surroundings was a basic longing with her, though she had not the gift of interpreting her

longings. But this place where they were secretly meeting must be beautiful. She was as keen for that as he

was. So it became a veritable treasuretrove, more distinguished in furnishings than some of the rooms of his

own home. He began to gather here some rare examples of altar cloths, rugs, and tapestries of the Middle

Ages. He bought furniture after the Georgian theorya combination of Chippendale, Sheraton, and

Heppelwhite modified by the Italian Renaissance and the French Louis. He learned 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 century weaving. Gray was an enthusiast and almost instantly he conveyed some of his

"There are fifty periods of one shade of blue porcelain alone, Mr. Cowperwood," Gray informed him. "There

are at least seven distinct schools or periods of rugsPersian, Armenian, Arabian, Flemish, Modern Polish,

Hungarian, and so on. If you ever went into that, it would be a distinguished thing to get a complete I mean

a representativecollection of some one period, or of all these periods. They are beautiful. I have seen some

"You'll make a convert of me yet, Fletcher," replied Cowperwood. "You or art will be the ruin of me. I'm

inclined that way temperamentally as it is, I think, and between you and Ellsworth and Gordon

Strake"another young man intensely interested in painting"you'll complete my downfall. Strake has a

splendid idea. He wants me to begin right nowI'm using that word 'right' in the sense of 'properly,'" he

commented"and get what examples I can of just the few rare things in each school or period of art which

would properly illustrate each. He tells me the great pictures are going to increase in value, and what I could

get for a few hundred thousand now will be worth millions later. He doesn't want me to bother with American

"He's right," exclaimed Gray, "although it isn't good business for me to praise another art man. It would take

"Not so very much. At least, not all at once. It would be a matter of years, of course. Strake thinks that some

excellent examples of different periods could be picked up now and later replaced if anything better in the

His mind, in spite of his outward placidity, was tinged with a great seeking. Wealth, in the beginning, had

seemed the only goal, to which had been added the beauty of women. And now art, for art's sakethe first

faint radiance of a rosy dawnhad begun to shine in upon him, and to the beauty of womanhood he was

beginning to see how necessary it was to add the beauty of life the beauty of material backgroundhow,

in fact, the only background for great beauty was great art. This girl, this Aileen Butler, her raw youth and

radiance, was nevertheless creating in him a sense of the distinguished and a need for it which had never

existed in him before to the same degree. It is impossible to define these subtleties of reaction, temperament

on temperament, for no one knows to what degree we are marked by the things which attract us. A love affair

such as this had proved to be was little less or more than a drop of coloring added to a glass of clear water, or

In short, for all her crudeness, Aileen Butler was a definite force personally. Her nature, in a way, a protest

against the clumsy conditions by which she found herself surrounded, was almost irrationally ambitious. To

think that for so long, having been born into the Butler family, she had been the subject, as well as the victim

of such commonplace and inartistic illusions and conditions, whereas now, owing to her contact with, and

mental subordination to Cowperwood, she was learning so many wonderful phases of social, as well as

financial, refinement of which previously she had guessed nothing. The wonder, for instance, of a future

social career as the wife of such a man as Frank Cowperwood. The beauty and resourcefulness of his mind,

which, after hours of intimate contact with her, he was pleased to reveal, and which, so definite were his

comments and instructions, she could not fail to sense. The wonder of his financial and artistic and future

social dreams. And, oh, oh, she was his, and he was hers. She was actually beside herself at times with the

At the same time, her father's local reputation as a quondam garbage contractor ("slopcollector" was the

unfeeling comment of the vulgarian cognoscenti); her own unavailing efforts to right a condition of material

vulgarity or artistic anarchy in her own home; the hopelessness of ever being admitted to those distinguished

portals which she recognized afar off as the last sanctum sanctorum of established respectability and social

distinction, had bred in her, even at this early age, a feeling of deadly opposition to her home conditions as

they stood. Such a house compared to Cowperwood's! Her dear, but ignorant, father! And this great man, her

lover, had now condescended to love hersee 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 womenand particularly

menwho were above the station in which she found herself, and to whom her beauty and prospective

fortune would commend her; but this had not been the case. The Cowperwoods themselves, in spite of Frank

Cowperwood's artistic proclivities and growing wealth, had not penetrated the inner circle as yet. In fact,

aside from the subtle, preliminary consideration which they were receiving, they were a long way off.

None the less, and instinctively in Cowperwood Aileen recognized a way outa doorand by the same

token a subtle, impending artistic future of great magnificence. This man would rise beyond anything he now

dreamed ofshe felt it. There was in him, in some nebulous, unrecognizable form, a great artistic reality

which was finer than anything 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 no weakling nature, and neither was his. They ran together temperamentally from the first

like two leopards. Her own thoughtscrude, half formulated, half spokennevertheless matched his to a

"I don't think papa knows how to do," she said to him, one day. "It isn't his fault. He can't help it. He knows

that he can't. And he knows that I know it. For years I wanted him to move out of that old house there. He

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

"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 to do is to confess to Lillian some day, and see if some other plan can't be arranged.

I want to fix it so the children won't suffer. I can provide for them amply, and I wouldn't be at all surprised if

Lillian would be willing to let me go. She certainly wouldn't want any publicity."

Aileen looked at him with clear, questioning, uncertain eyes. She was not wholly without sympathy, but in a

way this situation did not appeal to her as needing much. Mrs. Cowperwood was not friendly in her mood

toward her. It was not based on anything save a difference in their point of view. Mrs. Cowperwood could

never understand how a girl could carry her head so high and "put on such airs," and Aileen could not

understand how any one could be so lymphatic and lackadaisical as Lillian Cowperwood. Life was made for

riding, driving, dancing, going. It was made for airs and banter and persiflage and coquetry. To see this

woman, the wife of a young, forceful man like Cowperwood, acting, even though she were five years older

and the mother of two children, as though life on its romantic and enthusiastic pleasurable side were all over

was too much for her. Of course Lillian was unsuited to Frank; of course he needed a young woman like

herself, and fate would surely give him to her. Then what a delicious life they would lead!

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

"Do I think we can? Certainly I do. It's only a matter of time. I think if I were to put the matter to her clearly,

she wouldn't expect me to stay. You look out how you conduct your affairs. If your father or your brother

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't kill me. Are you thinking carefully of what you are doing?"

"All the time. If anything happens I'll deny everything. They can't prove it, if I deny it. I'll come to you in the

They were in the Tenth Street house at the time. She stroked his cheeks with the loving fingers of the wildly

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

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

Then, after several years of this secret relationship, in which the ties of sympathy and understanding grew

stronger instead of weaker, came the storm. It burst unexpectedly and out of a clear sky, and bore no relation

to the intention or volition of any individual. It was nothing more than a fire, a distant onethe great

Chicago fire, October 7th, 1871, which burned that city its vast commercial sectionto the ground, 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 the following Wednesday. It

destroyed the banks, the commercial houses, the shipping conveniences, and vast stretches of property. The

heaviest loss fell naturally upon the insurance companies, which instantly, in many casesthe

majorityclosed their doors. This threw the loss back on the manufacturers and wholesalers in other cities

who had had dealings with Chicago as well as the merchants of that city. Again, very grievous losses were

borne by the host of eastern capitalists which had for years past partly owned, or held heavy mortgages on,

the magnificent buildings for business purposes and residences in which Chicago was already rivaling every

city on the continent. Transportation was disturbed, and the keen scent of Wall Street, and Third Street in

Philadelphia, and State Street in Boston, instantly perceived in the early reports the gravity of the situation.

Nothing could be done on Saturday or Sunday after the exchange closed, for the opening reports came too

late. On Monday, however, the facts were pouring in thick and fast; and the owners of railroad securities,

government securities, streetcar securities, and, indeed, all other forms of stocks and bonds, began to throw

them on the market in order to raise cash. The banks naturally were calling their loans, and the result was a

stock stampede which equaled 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

friendsbankersto look at a proposed route of extension of a local steamrailroad, on which a loan was

desired. In buggies they had driven over a good portion of the route, and were returning to Philadelphia late

Sunday evening when the cries of newsboys hawking an "extra" reached their ears.

The cries were longdrawnout, ominous, pathetic. In the dusk of the dreary Sunday afternoon, when the city

had apparently retired to Sabbath meditation and prayer, with that tinge of the dying year in the foliage and in

"Hey, boy," called Cowperwood, listening, seeing a shabbily clothed misfit of a boy with a bundle of papers

He looked at his father and the other men in a significant way as he reached for the paper, and then, glancing

"That looks rather serious," he said, calmly, to his companions, a cold, commanding force coming into his

eyes and voice. To his father he said a little later, "It's panic, unless the majority of the banks and brokerage

He was thinking quickly, brilliantly, resourcefully of his own outstanding obligations. His father's bank was

carrying one hundred thousand dollars' worth of his streetrailway securities at sixty, and fifty thousand

dollars' worth of city loan at seventy. His father had "up with him" over forty thousand dollars in cash

covering market manipulations in these stocks. The banking house of Drexel & Co. was on his books as a

creditor for one hundred thousand, and that loan would be called unless they were especially merciful, which

was not likely. Jay Cooke & Co. were his creditors for another one hundred and fifty thousand. They would

want their money. At four smaller banks and three brokerage companies he was debtor for sums ranging from

fifty thousand dollars down. The city treasurer was involved with him to the extent of nearly five hundred

thousand dollars, and exposure of that would create a scandal; the State treasurer for two hundred thousand.

There were small accounts, hundreds of them, ranging from one hundred dollars up to five and ten thousand.

A panic would mean not only a withdrawal of deposits and a calling of loans, but a heavy depression of

securities. How could he realize on his securities? that was the questionhow without selling so many

He figured briskly the while he waved adieu to his friends, who hurried away, struck with their own

"You had better go on out to the house, father, and I'll send some telegrams." (The telephone had not yet been

invented.) "I'll be right out and we'll go into this thing together. It looks like black weather to 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 sidewhiskers in a confused and troubled way. He was

cogitating as to what might happen to him in case his son failed, for he was deeply involved with him. He

was a little gray in his complexion now, frightened, for he had already strained many points in his affairs to

accommodate his son. If Frank should not be able promptly on the morrow to meet the call which the bank

might have to make for one hundred and fifty thousand dollars, the onus and scandal of the situation would

On the other hand, his son was meditating on the tangled relation in which he now found himself in

connection with the city treasurer and the fact that it was not possible for him to support the market alone.

Those who should have been in a position to help him were now as bad off as himself. 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 Pacificwere practically doing their best to build that

immense transcontinental system alone. Naturally, they were long on that and hence in a ticklish position. At

the first word they would throw over their surest securitiesgovernment bonds, and the like in order to

protect their more speculative holdings. 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. He would be breaking his own back quickly,

and what he needed was time. If he could only get timethree days, a week, ten daysthis storm would

The thing that was troubling him most was the matter of the halfmillion invested with him by Stener. A fall

election was drawing near. Stener, although he had served two terms, was slated for reelection. A scandal in

connection with the city treasury would be a very bad thing. It would end Stener's career as an

officialwould very likely send him to the penitentiary. It might wreck the Republican party's chances to

win. It would certainly involve himself as having much to do with it. If that happened, he would have the

politicians to reckon with. For, if he were hard pressed, as he would be, and failed, the fact that he had been

trying to invade the city streetrailway preserves which they held sacred to themselves, with borrowed city

money, and that this borrowing was liable to cost them the city election, would all come out. They would 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 of it, to save himself, had been covered by a protective clause of that kind), or that he had

merely acted as an agent for Stener. That might go down with the unsophisticated of the outer world, but it

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 and mighty

tone in a crisis like this. All of them, great and small, were profiting in one way and another through city

privileges. Butler, Mollenhauer, and Simpson, he knew, made money out of contractslegal enough, though

they might be looked upon as rank favoritismand also out of vast sums of money collected in the shape of

taxesland taxes, water taxes, etc.which were deposited in the various banks designated by these men

and others as legal depositories for city money. The banks supposedly carried the city's money in their vaults

as a favor, without paying interest of any kind, and then reinvested itfor whom? Cowperwood had no

complaint to make, for he was being well treated, but these men could scarcely expect to monopolize all the

city's benefits. He did not know either Mollenhauer or Simpson personallybut he knew they as well as

Butler had made money out of his own manipulation of city loan. Also, Butler was most friendly to him. It

was not unreasonable for him to think, in a crisis like this, that if worst came to 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,

His first move, he decided, would be to go at once to Stener's house and demand the loan of an additional

three or four hundred thousand dollars. Stener had always been very tractable, and in this instance would see

how important it was that his shortage of half a million should not be made public. Then he must get as much

more as possible. But where to get it? Presidents of banks and trust companies, large stock jobbers, and the

like, would have to be seen. Then there was a loan of one hundred thousand dollars he was carrying for

Butler. The old contractor might be induced to leave that. He hurried to his home, secured his runabout, and

As it turned out, however, much to his distress and confusion, Stener was out of towndown on the

Chesapeake with several friends shooting ducks and fishing, and was not expected back for several days. He

was in the marshes back of some small town. Cowperwood sent an urgent wire to the nearest point and then,

to make assurance doubly sure, to several other points in the same neighborhood, asking him to return

immediately. He was not at all sure, however, that Stener would return in time and was greatly nonplussed

and uncertain for the moment as to what his next step would be. Aid must be forthcoming from somewhere

Suddenly a helpful thought occurred to him. Butler and Mollenhauer and Simpson were long on local

streetrailways. They must combine to support the situation and protect their interests. They could see the big

bankers, Drexel & Co. and Cooke & Co., and others and urge them to sustain the market. They could

strengthen things generally by organizing a buying ring, and under cover of their support, if they would, he

might sell enough to let him out, and even permit him to go short and make somethinga whole lot. It was a

brilliant thought, worthy of a greater situation, and its only weakness was that it was not absolutely certain of

He decided to go to Butler at once, the only disturbing thought being that 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 not heard the calling of the extras, and of

course, did not understand as yet the significance of the fire. The servant's announcement of Cowperwood

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

"I can't," replied Cowperwood. "Not tonight, I'm in too much of a hurry. I want to see you for just a few

"Why, if that's the case, I'll come right out." And Butler returned to the diningroom to put down his napkin.

Aileen, who was also dining, had heard Cowperwood's voice, and was on the qui vive to see him. She

wondered what it was that brought him at this time of night to see her father. She could not leave the table at

once, but hoped to before he went. Cowperwood was thinking of her, even in the face of this impending

storm, as he was of his wife, and many other things. If his affairs came down in a heap it would go hard with

those attached to him. In this first clouding of disaster, he could not tell how things would eventuate. He

meditated on this desperately, but he was not panicstricken. His naturally evenmolded face was set in fine,

"Well, now," exclaimed Butler, returning, his countenance manifesting a decidedly comfortable relationship

with the world as at present constituted. "What's up with you tonight? Nawthin' wrong, I hope. It's been too

"Nothing very serious, I hope myself," replied Cowperwood, "But I want to talk with you a few minutes,

They started from the receptionroom to the stairs, Butler preceding and as the contractor mounted, Aileen

came out from the diningroom in a froufrou of silk. Her splendid hair was drawn up from the base of the

neck and the line of the forehead into some quaint convolutions which constituted a reddishgold crown. Her

complexion was glowing, and her bare arms and shoulders shone white against the dark red of her evening

"Oh, Mr. Cowperwood, how do you do?" she exclaimed, coming forward and holding out her hand as her

father went on upstairs. She was delaying him deliberately in order to have a word with him and this bold

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

"Nothing much, I hope, sweet," he said. "Chicago is burning up and there's going to be trouble tomorrow. I

She had time only for a sympathetic, distressed "Oh," before he withdrew his hand and followed Butler

upstairs. She squeezed his arm, and went through the receptionroom to the parlor. She sat down, thinking,

for never before had she seen Cowperwood's face wearing such an expression of stern, disturbed calculation.

It was placid, like fine, white wax, and quite as cold; and those deep, vague, inscrutable eyes! So Chicago

was burning. What would happen to him? Was he very much involved? He had never told her in detail of his

affairs. She would not have understood fully any more than would have Mrs. Cowperwood. But she was

worried, nevertheless, because it was her Frank, and because she was bound to him by what to her seemed

Literature, outside of the masters, has given us but one idea of the mistress, the subtle, calculating siren who

delights to prey on the souls of men. The journalism and the moral pamphleteering of the time seem to foster

it with almost partisan zeal. It would seem that a censorship of life had been established by divinity, and the

care of its execution given into the hands of the utterly conservative. Yet there is that other form of liaison

which has nothing to do with conscious calculation. In the vast majority of cases it is without design or guile.

The average woman, controlled by her affections and deeply in love, is no more capable than a child of

anything save sacrificial thoughtthe desire to give; and so long as this state endures, she can only do this.

She may changeHell hath no fury, etc.but the sacrificial, yielding, solicitous attitude is more often the

outstanding characteristic of the mistress; and it is this very attitude in contradistinction to the grasping

legality of established matrimony that has caused so many wounds in the defenses of the latter. The

temperament of man, either male or female, cannot help falling down before and worshiping this nonseeking,

sacrificial note. It approaches vast distinction in life. It appears to be related to that last word in art, that

largeness of spirit which is the first characteristic of the great picture, the great building, the great sculpture,

the great decorationnamely, a giving, freely and without stint, of itself, of beauty. Hence the significance

All the subtleties of the present combination were troubling Cowperwood as he followed Butler into the room

"Sit down, sit down. You won't take a little somethin'? You never do. I remember now. Well, have a cigar,

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

"It's burning down the business section there, Mr. Butler," went on Cowperwood ominously, "and I fancy it's

going to disturb financial conditions here tomorrow. That is what I have come to see you about. How are

Butler suddenly gathered from Cowperwood's expression that there was something very wrong. He put up his

large hand as he leaned back in his big leather chair, and covered his mouth and chin with it. Over those big

knuckles, and bigger nose, thick and cartilaginous, his large, shaggyeyebrowed eyes gleamed. His gray,

"So that's it," he said. "You're expectin' trouble tomorrow. How are your own affairs?"

"I'm in pretty good shape, I think, all told, if the money element of this town doesn't lose its head and go wild.

There has to be a lot of common sense exercised tomorrow, or tonight, even. You know we are facing a

real panic. Mr. Butler, you may as well know that. It may not last long, but while it does it will be bad. Stocks

are going to drop tomorrow ten or fifteen points on the opening. The banks are going to call 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 and Mr. Simpson and Mr. Mollenhauer might do itthat is, you could if you could

persuade the big banking people to combine to back the market. There is going to be a raid on local

streetrailwaysall of them. Unless they are sustained the bottom is going to drop out. I have always known

that you were long on those. I thought you and Mr. Mollenhauer and some of the others might want to act. If

you don't I might as well confess that it is going to go rather hard with me. I am not strong enough to face this

"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 lose some

money, but not a vast amountbefore he could adjust things. Still he did not care to lose any money.

"How is it you're so bad off?" he asked, curiously. He was wondering how the fact that the bottom was going

to drop out of local streetrailways would affect Cowperwood so seriously. "You're not carryin' any of them

It was now a question of lying or telling the truth, and Cowperwood was literally afraid to risk lying in this

dilemma. If he did not gain Butler's comprehending support he might fail, and if he failed the truth would

"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 with that brisk assurance which Butler so greatly admired. He felt as proud of

Cowperwood at times as he did of his own sons. He felt that he had helped to put him where he was.

"The fact is that I have been buying streetrailway stocks, but not for myself exactly. I am going to do

something now which I think I ought not to do, but I cannot help myself. If I don't do it, it will injure you and

a lot of people whom I do not wish to injure. I know you are naturally interested in the outcome of the fall

election. The truth is I have been carrying a lot of stocks for Mr. Stener and some of his friends. I do not

know that all the money has come from the city treasury, but I think that most of it has. I know what that

means to Mr. 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 first placeI think I am as much to blame as anybodybut it grew out of other

things. As you know, I handled that matter of city loan for him and then some of his friends wanted me to

invest in streetrailways for them. I have been doing that ever since. Personally I have borrowed considerable

money from Mr. Stener at two per cent. In fact, originally the transactions were covered in that way. Now I

don't want to shift the blame on any one. It comes back to me and I am willing to let it stay there, except that

if I fail Mr. Stener will be blamed and that will reflect on the administration. Naturally, I don't want to fail.

There is no excuse for my doing so. Aside from this panic I have never been in a better position in my life.

But I cannot weather this storm without assistance, and I want to know if you won't help me. If I pull through

I will give you my word that I will see that the money which has been taken from the treasury is put back

Cowperwood was lying out of the whole cloth in regard to bringing Stener with him, and he had no intention

of putting the money back in the city treasury except by degrees and in such manner as suited his

convenience; but what he had said sounded well and created a great seeming of fairness.

"How much money is it Stener has invested with you?" asked Butler. He was a little confused by this curious

The old contractor listened solemnly to all Cowperwood had to say on this score, thinking of the effect on the

Republican party and his own contracting interests. He liked Cowperwood, but this was a rough thing the

latter was telling himrough, and a great deal to ask. He was a slowthinking and a slowmoving man, but

he did well enough when he did think. He had considerable money invested in Philadelphia streetrailway

stocksperhaps as much as eight hundred thousand dollars. Mollenhauer had perhaps as much more.

Whether Senator Simpson had much or little he could not tell. Cowperwood had told him in the past that he

thought the Senator had a good deal. Most of their holdings, as in the case of Cowperwood's, were

hypothecated at the various banks for loans and these loans invested in other ways. It was not advisable or

comfortable to have these loans called, though the condition of no one of the triumvirate was anything like as

bad as that of Cowperwood. They could see themselves through without much trouble, though not without

He would not have thought so much of it if Cowperwood had told him that Stener was involved, say, to the

extent of seventyfive or a hundred thousand dollars. That might be adjusted. But five hundred thousand

"That's a lot of money," said Butler, thinking of the amazing audacity of Stener, but failing at the moment to

identify it with the astute machinations of Cowperwood. "That's something to think about. There's no time to

lose if there's going to be a panic in the morning. How much good will it do ye if we do support the market?"

"A great deal," returned Cowperwood, "although of course I have to raise money in other ways. I have that

one hundred thousand dollars of yours on deposit. Is it likely that you'll want that right away?"

"It's just as likely that I'll need it so badly that I can't give it up without seriously injuring myself," added

Cowperwood. "That's just one of a lot of things. If you and Senator Simpson and Mr. Mollenhauer were to

get togetheryou're the largest holders of streetrailway stocksand were to see Mr. Drexel and Mr.

Cooke, you could fix things so that matters would be considerably easier. I will be all right if my loans are

not called, and my loans will not be called if the market does not slump too heavily. If it does, all my

Old Butler got up. "This is serious business," he said. "I wish you'd never gone in with Stener in that way. It

don't look quite right and it can't be made to. It's bad, bad business," he added dourly. "Still, I'll do what I can.

I can't promise much, but I've always liked ye and I'll not be turning on ye now unless I have to. But I'm

sorryvery. And I'm not the only one that has a hand in things in this town." At the same time he was

thinking it was right decent of Cowperwood to forewarn him this way in regard to his own affairs and the city

election, even though he 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 city treasury quiet for a day or two until I see

"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

helpyou can depend on that." He was thinking how the effect of Stener's crime could be overcome if

"Have Dan hitch up the light buggy and bring it around to the door. And you get your hat and coat. I want

"Sure that's a nice little storm in a teapot, now, isn't it? Chicago begins 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. But I'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,

He went back in his room for something, and Cowperwood descended the stair alone. From the hangings of

"I hope it's nothing serious, honey?" she sympathized, looking into his solemn eyes.

"Frank, don't let this thing make you forget me for long, please. You won't, will you? I love you so."

"I can't! Don't you know I won't?" He had started to kiss her, but a noise disturbed him. "Sh!"

What if anything should happen to her Frank? What if anything could? What would she do? That was what

was troubling her. What would, what could she do to help him? He looked so palestrained.

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 briefly

indicated here, in order to foreshadow Cowperwood's actual situation. Butler, as we have seen, was normally

interested in and friendly to Cowperwood. Stener was Cowperwood's tool. Mollenhauer and Senator Simpson

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 the like. He had many influential newspapers, corporations,

banks, at his beck and call. Mollenhauer represented the Germans, some Americans, and some large stable

corporationsa very solid and respectable man. All three were strong, able, and dangerous politically. The

two latter counted on Butler's influence, particularly with the Irish, and a certain 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 goodwill generally. The city's return to

him, via Mollenhauer and Simpson, was in the shape of contractsfat onesstreetpaving, bridges,

viaducts, sewers. And in order for him to get these contracts the affairs of the Republican party, of which he

was a beneficiary as well as a leader, must be kept reasonably straight. At the same time it was no more a part

of his need to keep the affairs of the party straight than it was of either Mollenhauer's or Simpson's, and

Stener was not his appointee. The latter was more directly responsible to Mollenhauer than to any one else.

As Butler stepped into the buggy with his son he was thinking about this, and it was puzzling him greatly.

"Cowperwood's just been here," he said to Owen, who had been rapidly coming into a sound financial

understanding of late, and was already a shrewder man politically and socially than his father, though he had

not the latter's magnetism. "He's been tellin' me that he's in a rather tight place. You hear that?" he continued,

as some voice in the distance was calling "Extra! Extra!" "That's Chicago burnin', and there's goin' to be

trouble on the stock exchange tomorrow. We have a lot of our streetrailway stocks around at the different

banks. If we don't look sharp they'll be callin' our loans. We have to 'tend to that the first thing in the mornin'.

Cowperwood has a hundred thousand of mine with him that he wants me to let stay there, and he has some

"Stener?" asked Owen, curiously. "Has he been dabbling in stocks?" Owen had heard some rumors

concerning Stener and others only very recently, which he had not credited nor yet communicated to his

Butler meditated. "Quite a bit, I'm afraid," he finally said. "As a matter of fact, it's a great dealabout five

hundred thousand dollars. If that should become known, it would be makin' a good deal of noise, I'm

"Whew!" exclaimed Owen in astonishment. "Five hundred thousand dollars! Good Lord, father! Do you

mean to say Stener has got away with five hundred thousand dollars? Why, I wouldn't think he was clever

enough to do that. Five hundred thousand dollars! It will make a nice row if that comes out."

"Aisy, now! Aisy, now!" replied Butler, doing his best to keep all phases of the situation in mind. "We can't

tell exactly what the circumstances were yet. He mayn't have meant to take so much. It may all come out all

right yet. The money's invested. Cowperwood hasn't failed yet. It may be put back. The thing to be settled on

now is whether anything can be done to save him. If he's tellin' me the truthand I never knew him to

liehe can get out of this if streetrailway stocks don't break too heavy in the mornin'. I'm going over to see

Henry Mollenhauer and Mark Simpson. They're in on this. Cowperwood wanted me to see if I couldn't get

them to get the bankers together and have them stand by the market. He thought we might protect our loans

Owen was running swiftly in his mind over Cowperwood's affairsas much as he knew of them. He felt

keenly that the banker ought to be shaken out. This dilemma was his fault, not Stener'she felt. It was

"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, and he's in a hole. If it hadn't been for this fire he'd have got away with it; but now

he wants you and Simpson and Mollenhauer and the others to pull him out. He's a nice fellow, and I like him

fairly well; but you're a fool if you do as he wants you to. He has more than belongs to him already. 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

the Seventeenth and Nineteenth; but I didn't believe it. I've been intending to ask you about it. I think

Cowperwood has a majority for himself stowed away somewhere in every instance. Stener is just a pawn. He

Owen's eyes gleamed avariciously, opposingly. Cowperwood ought to be punished, sold out, driven out of

"Now you know," observed Butler, thickly and solemnly, "I always thought that young felly was clever, but I

hardly thought he was as clever as all 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 than that to all this. You don't want to forget the

Republican party. Our success goes with the success of that, you know"and he paused and looked at his

son. "If Cowperwood should fail and that money couldn't be put back" He broke off abstractedly. "The

thing that's troublin' me is this matter of Stener and the city treasury. If somethin' ain't done about that, it may

go hard with the party this fall, and with some of our 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 hundred thousand dollars. It's goin' to

It is a curious matter of psychology, but it was only now that the real difficulties of the situation were

beginning to dawn on Butler. In the presence of Cowperwood he was so influenced by that young man's

personality and his magnetic presentation of his need and his own liking for him that he had not stopped to

consider all the phases of his own relationship to the situation. Out here in the cool night air, talking to Owen,

who was ambitious on his own account and anything but sentimentally considerate of Cowperwood, he was

beginning to sober down and see things in their true light. He had to admit that Cowperwood had seriously

compromised the city treasury and the Republican party, and incidentally Butler's own private interests.

Nevertheless, he liked Cowperwood. He was in no way prepared to desert him. He was now going to see

Mollenhauer and Simpson as much to save Cowperwood really as the party and his own affairs. And yet a

scandal. He did not like thatresented it. This young scalawag! To think he should be so sly. None the less

he still liked him, even here and now, and was feeling that he ought to do something to help the young man,

if anything could help him. He might even leave his hundredthousanddollar loan with him until the last

"Well, father," said Owen, after a time, "I don't see why you need to worry any more than Mollenhauer or

Simpson. If you three want to help him out, you can; but for the life of me I don't see why you should. I know

this thing will have a bad effect on the election, if it comes out before then; but it could be hushed up until

then, couldn't it? Anyhow, your streetrailway holdings are more important than this election, and if you can

see your way clear to getting the streetrailway lines in your hands you won't need to worry about any

elections. My advice to you is to call that onehundredthousanddollar loan of yours in the morning, and

meet the drop in your stocks that way. It may make Cowperwood fail, but that won't hurt you any. You can

go into the market and buy his stocks. I wouldn't be surprised if he would run to you and ask you to take

them. You ought to get Mollenhauer and Simpson to scare Stener 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. If Cowperwood

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 one else. I think he'll sell. You can't afford to worry about Stener's five hundred thousand

dollars. No one told him to loan it. Let him look out for 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 it till after election."

The residence of Henry A. Mollenhauer was, at that time, in a section of the city which was almost as new as

that in which Butler was living. It was on South Broad Street, near a handsome library building which had

been recently erected. It was a spacious house of the type usually affected by men of new wealth in those

daysa structure four stories in height of yellow brick and white stone built after no school which one could

readily identify, but not unattractive in its architectural composition. A broad flight of steps leading to a wide

veranda gave into a decidedly ornate door, which was set on either side by narrow windows and ornamented

to the right and left with paleblue jardinieres of considerable charm of outline. The interior, divided into

twenty rooms, was paneled and parqueted in the most expensive manner for homes of that day. There was a

great receptionhall, a large parlor or drawingroom, a diningroom at least thirty feet square paneled in oak;

and on the second floor were a musicroom devoted to the talents of Mollenhauer's three ambitious

daughters, a library and private office for himself, a boudoir and bath for his wife, and a conservatory.

Mollenhauer was, and felt himself to be, a very important man. His financial and political judgment was

exceedingly keen. Although he was a German, or rather an American of German parentage, he was a man of

a rather impressive American presence. He was tall and heavy and shrewd and cold. His large chest and wide

shoulders supported a head of distinguished proportions, both round and long when seen from different

angles. The frontal bone descended in a protruding curve over the nose, and projected solemnly over the eyes,

which burned with a shrewd, inquiring gaze. And the nose and mouth and chin below, as well as his smooth,

hard cheeks, confirmed the impression that he knew very well what he wished in this world, and was very

able without regard to let or hindrance to get it. It was a big face, impressive, well modeled. He was an

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 for another. He respected ability; he was willing to play fair when fair was the

When Edward Butler and his son arrived on this Sunday evening, this distinguished representative of

onethird of the city's interests was not expecting them. He was in his library reading and listening to one of

his daughters playing the piano. His wife and his other two daughters had gone to church. He was of a

domestic turn of mind. Still, Sunday evening being an excellent one for conference purposes generally in the

world of politics, he was not without the thought that some one or other of his distinguished confreres might

call, and when the combination footman and butler announced the presence of Butler and his son, he was well

"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 will you gentlemen have to drink, and what will you smoke? I know you'll

have something. John"to the servitor"see if you can find something for these gentlemen. I have just

been listening to Caroline play; but I think you've frightened her off for the time being."

He moved a chair into position for Butler, and indicated to Owen another on the other side of the table. In a

moment his servant had returned with a silver tray of elaborate design, carrying whiskies and wines of

various dates and cigars in profusion. Owen was the new type of young financier who neither smoked nor

"It's a comfortable place you have here," said Butler, without any indication of the important mission that had

brought him. "I don't wonder 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

"Well, yes," said Butler, draining off the remainder of a brandy and soda that had been prepared for him.

"No, I haven't," said Mollenhauer, straightening up. "Is there one out? What's the trouble anyhow?"

"Nothingexcept Chicago's burning, and it looks as though we'd have a little moneystorm here in the

"You don't say! I didn't hear that. There's a paper out, is there? Well, wellis it much of a fire?"

"The city is burning down, so they say," put in Owen, who was watching the face of the distinguished

"Well, that is news. I must send out and get a paper. John!" he called. His manservant appeared. "See if you

can get me a paper somewhere." The servant disappeared. "What makes you think that would have anything

"Well, there's one thing that goes with that that I didn't know till a little while ago and that is that our man

Stener is apt to be short in his accounts, unless things come out better than some people seem to think,"

suggested Butler, calmly. "That might not look so well before election, would it?" His shrewd gray Irish eyes

"Where did you get that?" queried Mr. Mollenhauer icily. "He hasn't deliberately taken much money, has he?

"Quite a bit," replied Butler, quietly. "Nearly five hundred thousand, so I understand. Only I wouldn't say that

"Five hundred thousand!" exclaimed Mollenhauer in amazement, and yet preserving his usual calm. "You

don't tell me! How long has this been going on? What has he been doing with the money?"

"He's loaned a good dealabout five hundred thousand dollars to this young Cowperwood in Third Street,

that's been handlin' city loan. They've been investin' it for themselves in one thing and anothermostly in

buyin' up streetrailways." (At the mention of streetrailways Mollenhauer's impassive countenance

underwent a barely perceptible change.) "This fire, accordin' to Cowperwood, is certain to produce a panic in

the mornin', and unless he gets considerable help he doesn't see how he's to hold out. If he doesn't hold out,

there'll be five hundred thousand dollars missin' from the city treasury which can't be put back. Stener's out of

town and Cowperwood's come to me to see what can be done about it. As a matter of fact, he's done a little

business for me in times past, and he thought maybe I could help him nowthat is, that I might get you and

the Senator to see the big bankers with me and help support the market in the mornin'. If we don't he's goin' to

fail, and he thought the scandal would hurt us in the election. He doesn't appear to me to be workin' any

gamejust anxious to save himself and do the square thing by meby us, if he can." Butler paused.

Mollenhauer, sly and secretive himself, was apparently not at all moved by this unexpected development. At

the same time, never having thought of Stener as having any particular executive or financial ability, he was a

little stirred and curious. So his treasurer was using money without his knowing it, and now stood in danger

of being prosecuted! Cowperwood he knew of only indirectly, as one who had been engaged to handle city

loan. He had profited by his manipulation of city loan. Evidently the banker had made a fool of Stener, and

had used the money for streetrailway shares! He and Stener must have quite some private holdings then.

"Five hundred thousand dollars!" he repeated, when Butler had finished. "That is quite a little money. If

merely supporting the market would save Cowperwood we might do that, although if it's a severe panic I do

not 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 take a great deal more than our merely supporting the market to save him. I've

"He wants me to l'ave a hundred thousand he has of mine until he sees whether he can get through or not."

Mollenhauer was thinking of the various aspects of the case. Supporting the market would be all very well if

that would save Cowperwood, and the Republican party and his treasurer. At the same time Stener could then

be compelled to restore the five hundred thousand dollars to the city treasury, and release his holdings to

some onepreferably to himMollenhauer. But here was Butler also to be considered in this matter. What

might he not want? He consulted with Butler and learned that Cowperwood had agreed to return the five

hundred thousand in case he could get it together. The various streetcar holdings were not asked after. 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 would he give the money back to Stener? If he required actual money, who

would loan it to him in a time like thisin case a sharp panic was imminent? What security could he give?

On the other hand, under pressure from the right parties he might be made to surrender all his streetrailway

holdings for a songhis and Stener's. If he (Mollenhauer) could get them he would not particularly care

whether the election was lost this fall or not, although he felt satisfied, as had Owen, that it would not be lost.

It could be bought, as usual. The defalcationif Cowperwood's failure made Stener's loan into onecould

be concealed long enough, Mollenhauer thought, to win. Personally as it came to him now he would prefer to

frighten Stener into refusing Cowperwood additional aid, and then raid the latter's streetrailway stock in

combination with everybody else's, for that matterSimpson's and Butler's included. One of the big sources

of future wealth in Philadelphia lay in these lines. For the present, however, he had to pretend an interest in

"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 am perfectly willing to do what I can to keep up the price of stocks, if that will do any

good. I would do so naturally in order to protect my loans. The thing that we ought to be thinking about, in

my judgment, is how to prevent exposure, in case Mr. Cowperwood does fail, until after election. We have no

assurance, of course, that however much we support the market we will be able to sustain it."

Owen thought he could see Cowperwood's approaching doom quite plainly. At that moment the doorbell

rang. A maid, in the absence of the footman, brought in the name of Senator Simpson.

"Perhaps I had better leave you alone now," suggested Owen to his father. "Perhaps I can find Miss Caroline,

Mollenhauer cast him an ingratiating smile, and as he stepped out Senator Simpson walked in.

A more interesting type of his kind than Senator Mark Simpson never flourished in the State of Pennsylvania,

which has been productive of interesting types. Contrasted with either of the two men who now greeted him

warmly and shook his hand, he was physically unimpressive. He was smallfive feet nine inches, to

Mollenhauer's six feet and Butler's five feet eleven inches and a half, and then his face was smooth, with a

receding jaw. In the other two this feature was prominent. Nor were his eyes as frank as those of Butler, nor

as defiant as those of Mollenhauer; but for subtlety they were unmatched by eitherdeep, strange, receding,

cavernous eyes which contemplated you as might those of a cat looking out of a dark hole, and suggesting all

the artfulness that has ever distinguished the feline family. He had a strange mop of black hair sweeping

down over a fine, low, white forehead, and a skin as pale and bluish as poor health might make it; but there

was, nevertheless, resident here a strange, resistant, capable force that ruled menthe subtlety with which he

knew how to feed cupidity with hope and gain and the ruthlessness with which he repaid those who said him

nay. He was a still man, as such a man might well have beenfeeble and fishlike in his handshake, wan

and slightly lackadaisical in his smile, but speaking always with eyes that answered for every defect.

"Well, Senator, you're not looking any the worse for wear. Can I pour you something?"

"Nothing tonight, Henry," replied Simpson. "I haven't long to stay. I just stopped by on my way home. My

"Well, it's a good thing you dropped in, Senator, just when you did," began Mollenhauer, seating himself

after his guest. "Butler here has been telling me of a little political problem that has arisen since I last saw

"Yes; Cavanagh was just telling me. It looks to be quite serious. I think the market will drop heavily in the

"Here's the paper now," said Butler, as John, the servant, came in from the street bearing the paper in his

hand. Mollenhauer took it and spread it out before them. It was among the earliest of the "extras" that were

issued in this country, and contained a rather impressive spread of type announcing that the conflagration in

"Well, that is certainly dreadful," said Simpson. "I'm very sorry for Chicago. I have many friends there. I

The man had a rather grandiloquent manner which he never abandoned under any 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 city treasurers have of loaning out their money at two per cent.?"

"Well, Mr. Stener, it seems, has been loaning out a good deal of the city's money to this young Cowperwood,

"You don't say!" said Simpson, putting on an air of surprise. "Not much, I hope?" The Senator, like Butler

and Mollenhauer, was profiting greatly by cheap loans from the same source to various designated city

"Well, it seems that Stener has loaned him as much as five hundred thousand dollars, and if by any chance

Cowperwood shouldn't be able to weather this storm, Stener is apt to be short that amount, and that wouldn't

look so good as a voting proposition to the people in November, do you think? Cowperwood owes Mr. Butler

here one hundred thousand dollars, and because of that he came to see him tonight. He wanted Butler to see

if something couldn't be done through us to tide him over. If not"he waved one hand suggestively"well,

Simpson fingered his strange, wide mouth with his delicate hand. "What have they been doing with the five

"Oh, the boys must make a little somethin' on the side," said Butler, cheerfully. "I think they've been buyin'

up streetrailways, for one thing." He stuck his thumbs in the armholes of his vest. Both Mollenhauer and

"Quite so," said Mollenhauer. Senator Simpson merely looked the deep things that he thought.

He, too, was thinking how useless it was for any one to approach a group of politicians with a proposition

like this, particularly in a crisis such as bid fair to occur. He reflected that if he and Butler and Mollenhauer

could get together and promise Cowperwood protection in return for the surrender of his streetrailway

holdings it would be a very different matter. It would be very easy in this case to carry the city treasury loan

along in silence and even issue more money to support it; but it was not sure, in the first place, that

Cowperwood could be made to surrender his stocks, and in the second place that either Butler or Mollenhauer

would enter into any such deal with him, Simpson. Butler had evidently come here to say a good word for

Cowperwood. Mollenhauer and himself were silent rivals. Although they worked together politically it was

toward essentially different financial ends. They were allied in no one particular financial proposition, any

more than Mollenhauer and Butler were. And besides, in all probability Cowperwood was no fool. He was

not equally guilty with Stener; the latter had loaned him money. The Senator reflected on whether he should

broach some such subtle solution of the situation as had occurred to him to his colleagues, but he decided not.

Really Mollenhauer was too treacherous a man to work with on a thing of this kind. It was a splendid chance

but dangerous. He had better go it alone. For the present they should demand of Stener that he get

Cowperwood to return the five hundred thousand dollars if he could. If not, Stener could be sacrificed for the

benefit of the party, if need be. Cowperwood's stocks, with this tip as to his condition, would, Simpson

reflected, offer a good opportunity for a little stockexchange work on the part of his own brokers. They

could spread rumors as to Cowperwood's condition and then offer to take his shares off his handsfor a

"Well, now," said the Senator, after a prolonged silence, "I might sympathize with Mr. Cowperwood in his

situation, and I certainly don't blame him for buying up streetrailways if he can; but I really don't see what

can be done for him very well in this crisis. I don't know about you, gentlemen, but I am rather certain that I

am not in a position to pick other people's chestnuts out of the fire if I wanted to, just now. It all depends on

whether we feel that the danger to the party is sufficient to warrant our going down into our pockets and

At the mention of real money to be loaned Mollenhauer pulled a long face. "I can't see that I will be able to

"Begad," said Buler, with a keen sense of humor, "it looks to me as if I'd better be gettin' in my one hundred

thousand dollars. That's the first business of the early mornin'." Neither Simpson nor Mollenhauer

condescended on this occasion to smile even the wan smile they had smiled before. They merely looked wise

"But this matter of the city treasury, now," said Senator Simpson, after the atmosphere had been allowed to

settle a little, "is something to which we shall have to devote a little thought. If Mr. Cowperwood should fail,

and the treasury lose that much money, it would embarrass us no little. What lines are they," he added, as an

"I really don't know," replied Butler, who did not care to say what Owen had told him on the drive over.

"I don't see," said Mollenhauer, "unless we can make Stener get the money back before this man

Cowperwood fails, how we can save ourselves from considerable annoyance later; but if we did anything

which would look as though we were going to compel restitution, he would probably shut up shop anyhow.

So there's no remedy in that direction. And it wouldn't be very kind to our friend Edward here to do it until

"Certainly not," said Senator Simpson, with true political sagacity and feeling.

"I'll have that one hundred thousand dollars in the mornin'," said Butler, "and never fear."

"I think," said Simpson, "if anything comes of this matter that we will have to do our best to hush it up until

after the election. The newspapers can just as well keep silent on that score as not. There's one thing I would

suggest"and he was now thinking of the streetrailway properties which Cowperwood had so judiciously

collected"and that is that the city treasurer be cautioned against advancing any more money in a situation

of this kind. He might readily be compromised into advancing much more. I suppose a word from you,

"My judgement would be," said Butler, in a rather obscure manner, thinking of Cowperwood's mistake in

appealing to these noble protectors of the public, "that it's best to let sleepin' dogs run be thimselves."

Thus ended Frank Cowperwood's dreams of what Butler and his political associates might do for him in his

The energies of Cowperwood after leaving Butler were devoted to the task of seeing others who might be of

some assistance to him. He had left word with Mrs. Stener that if any message came from her husband he was

to be notified at once. He hunted up Walter Leigh, of Drexel & Co., Avery Stone of Jay Cooke & Co., and

President Davison of the Girard National Bank. He wanted to see what they thought of the situation and to

negotiate a loan with President Davison covering all his real and personal property.

"I can't tell you, Frank," Walter Leigh insisted, "I don't know how things will be running by tomorrow noon.

I'm glad to know how you stand. I'm glad you're doing what you're doinggetting all your affairs in shape. It

will help a lot. I'll favor you all I possibly can. But if the chief decides on a certain group of loans to be

called, they'll have to 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 companiessome of them, anyhoware sure to go, and then look out. I suppose

The two men shook hands. They liked each other. Leigh was of the city's fashionable coterie, a society man

to the manner born, but with a wealth of common sense and a great deal of worldly experience.

"I'll tell you, Frank," he observed at parting, "I've always thought you were carrying too much streetrailway.

It's great stuff if you can get away with it, but it's just in a pinch like this that you're apt to get hurt. You've

It was the same with Avery Stone, President Davison, and others. They had all already heard rumors of

disaster when he arrived. They were not sure what the morrow would bring forth. It looked very unpromising.

Cowperwood decided to stop and see Butler again for he felt certain his interview with Mollenhauer and

Simpson was now over. Butler, who had been meditating what he should say to Cowperwood, was not

"Well, I'm not sure that I've been able to do anything for you. I'm afraid not," Butler said, cautiously. "It's a

hard job you set me. Mollenhauer seems to think that he'll support the market, on his own account. I think he

will. Simpson has interests which he has to protect. I'm going to buy for myself, of course."

"I couldn't get them to call a conference with any of the big moneyed men as yet," he added, warily. "They'd

rather wait and see what happens in the mornin'. Still, I wouldn't be downhearted if I were you. If things

turn out very bad they may change their minds. I had to tell them about Stener. It's pretty bad, but they're

hopin' you'll come through and straighten that out. I hope so. About my own loanwell, I'll see how things

are in the mornin'. If I raisonably can I'll lave it with you. You'd better see me again about it. I wouldn't try to

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 they already communicated with himwarned him? If so, his own coming to

Butler had been a bad move; and yet from the point of view of his possible failure on the morrow it had been

advisable. At least now the politicians knew where he stood. If he got in a very tight corner he would come to

Butler againthe politicians could assist him or not, as they chose. If they did not help him and he failed,

and the election were lost, it was their own fault. Anyhow, if he could see Stener first the latter would not be

"Things look rather dark tonight, Mr. Butler," he said, smartly, "but I still think I'll come through. I hope so,

anyhow. I'm sorry to have put you to so much trouble. I wish, of course, that you gentlemen could see your

way clear to assist me, but if you can't, you can't. I have a number of things that I can do. I hope that you will

He went briskly out, and Butler meditated. "A clever young chap that," he said. "It's too bad. But he may

Cowperwood hurried to his own home only to find his father awake and brooding. To him he talked with that

strong vein of sympathy and understanding which is usually characteristic of those drawn by ties of flesh and

blood. He liked his father. He sympathized with his painstaking effort to get up in the world. He could not

forget that as a boy he had had the loving sympathy and interest of his father. The loan which he had from the

Third National, on somewhat weak Union Street Railway shares he could probably replace if stocks did not

drop too tremendously. He must replace this at all costs. But his father's investments in streetrailways,

which had risen with his own ventures, and which now involved an additional two hundred thousandhow

could he protect those? The shares were hypothecated and the money was used for other things. Additional

collateral would have to be furnished the several banks carrying them. It was nothing except loans, loans,

loans, and the need of protecting them. If he could only get an additional deposit of two or three hundred

thousand dollars from Stener. But that, in the face of possible financial difficulties, was rank criminality. All

Monday, the ninth, dawned gray and cheerless. He was up with the first ray of light, shaved and dressed, and

went over, under the graygreen pergola, to his father's house. He was up, also, and stirring about, for he had

not been able to sleep. His gray eyebrows and gray hair looked rather shaggy and disheveled, and his

sidewhiskers anything but decorative. 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, and where he was quietly tabulating a list of his resources and liabilities.

Cowperwood winced. He hated to see his father worried, but he could not help 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 hearten the old gentleman as much as

"I was just running over my affairs again to see where I stood in case" He looked quizzically at his son,

"I wouldn't worry, father. I told you how I fixed it so that Butler and that crowd will support the market. I

have Rivers and Targool and Harry Eltinge 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 in this case, for the moment they began to sell

everybody would know what was going on with me. This way my men will seem like bears hammering the

market, but not hammering too hard. I ought to be able to unload enough at ten points off to raise five

hundred thousand. The market may not go lower 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! The morning paper hasn't come yet, has it?"

He was going to pull a bell, but remembered that the servants would scarcely be up as yet. He went to the

front door himself. There were the Press and the Public Ledger lying damp from the presses. He picked them

up and glanced at the front pages. His countenance fell. On one, the Press, was spread a great black map of

Chicago, a most funereallooking thing, the black portion indicating the burned section. He had never seen a

map of Chicago before in just this clear, definite way. That white portion was Lake Michigan, and there was

the Chicago River dividing the city into three almost equal portionsthe north side, the west side, the south

side. He saw at once that the city was curiously arranged, somewhat like Philadelphia, and that the business

section was probably an area of two or three miles square, set at the juncture of the three sides, and lying

south of the main stem of the river, where it flowed into the lake after the southwest and northwest branches

had united to form it. This was a significant central area; but, according to this map, it was all burned out.

"Chicago in Ashes" ran a great sideheading set in heavily leaded black type. It went on to detail the

sufferings of the homeless, the number of the dead, the number of those whose fortunes had been destroyed.

Then it descanted upon the probable effect in the East. Insurance companies and manufacturers might not be

"Damn!" said Cowperwood gloomily. "I wish I were out of this stockjobbing business. I wish I had never

gotten into it." He returned to his drawingroom 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 cancel or sell. While he was standing there a messengerboy brought him three

more. One was from Stener and said that he would be back by twelve o'clock, the very earliest he could make

it. Cowperwood was relieved and yet distressed. He would need large sums of money to meet various loans

before three. Every hour was precious. He must arrange to meet Stener at the station and talk to him before

any one else should see him. Clearly this was going to be a hard, dreary, strenuous day.

Third Street, by the time he reached there, was stirring with other bankers and brokers called forth by the

exigencies of the occasion. There was a suspicious hurrying of feetthat intensity which makes all the

difference in the world between a hundred people placid and a hundred people disturbed. At the exchange,

the atmosphere was feverish. At the sound of the gong, the staccato uproar began. Its metallic vibrations were

still in the air when the two hundred men who composed this local organization at its utmost stress of

calculation, threw themselves upon each other in a gibbering struggle to dispose of or seize bargains of the

hour. The interests were so varied that it was impossible 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 such opportunities of selling as might offer a reasonable return on the stock. The

"bears" were determined to jam things down, and it all depended on how well the agents of Mollenhauer,

Simpson, Butler, and others supported things in the streetrailway world whether those stocks retained any

strength or not. The last thing Butler had said the night before was that they would do the best they could.

They would buy up to a certain point. Whether they would support the market indefinitely he would not say.

He could not vouch for Mollenhauer and Simpson. Nor did he know the condition of their affairs.

While the excitement was at its highest Cowperwood came in. As he stood in the door looking to catch the

eye of Rivers, the 'change gong sounded, and trading stopped. All the brokers and traders faced about to the

little balcony, where the secretary of the 'change made his announcements; and there he stood, the door open

behind him, a small, dark, clerkly man of thirtyeight or forty, whose spare figure and pale face bespoke the

methodic mind that knows no venturous thought. In his right hand he held a slip of white paper.

"The American Fire Insurance Company of Boston announces its inability to meet its obligations." The gong

Immediately the storm broke anew, more voluble than before, because, if after one hour of investigation on

this Monday morning one insurance company had gone down, what would four or five hours or a day or two

bring forth? It meant that men who had been burned out in Chicago would not be able to resume business. It

meant that all loans connected with this concern had been, or would be called now. And the cries of

frightened "bulls" offering thousand and five thousand lot holdings in Northern Pacific, Illinois Central,

Reading, Lake Shore, Wabash; in all the local streetcar lines; and in Cowperwood's city loans at constantly

falling prices was sufficient to take the heart out of all concerned. He hurried to Arthur Rivers's side in the

"It looks as though the Mollenhauer and Simpson crowds aren't doing much for the market," he observed,

"They've had advices from New York," explained Rivers solemnly. "It can't be supported very well. There

are three insurance companies over there on the verge of quitting, I understand. I expect to see them posted

They stepped apart from the pandemonium, to discuss ways and means. Under his agreement with Stener,

Cowperwood could buy up to one hundred thousand dollars of city loan, above the customary wash sales, or

market manipulation, by which they were making money. This was in case the market had to be genuinely

supported. He decided to buy sixty thousand dollars worth now, and use this to sustain his loans elsewhere.

Stener would pay him for this instantly, giving him more ready cash. It might help him in one way and

another; and, anyhow, it might tend to strengthen the other securities long enough at least to allow him to

realize a little something now at better than ruinous rates. If only he had the means "to go short" on this

market! If only doing so did not really mean ruin to his present position. It was characteristic of the man that

even in this crisis he should be seeing how the very thing that of necessity, because of his present obligations,

might ruin him, might also, under slightly different conditions, yield him a great harvest. He could not take

advantage of it, however. He could not be on both sides of 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 loan him something on his house, when the gong struck again.

Once more trading ceased. Arthur Rivers, from his position at the State securities post, where city loan was

sold, and where he had started to buy for Cowperwood, looked significantly at him. Newton Targool hurried

"You're up against it," he exclaimed. "I wouldn't try to sell against this 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 hold out? Here's

"The Eastern and Western Fire Insurance Company of New York announces that it cannot meet its

A low sound something like "Haw!" broke forth. The announcer's gavel struck for order.

"The Erie Fire Insurance Company of Rochester announces that it cannot meet its obligations."

What do you think?" asked Targool. "You can't brave this storm. Can't you quit selling and hold out for a few

"They ought to close this thing up," Cowperwood said, shortly. "It would be a splendid way out. Then

He hurried to consult with those who, finding themselves in a similar predicament with himself, might use

their influence to bring it about. It was a sharp trick to play on those who, now finding the market favorable

to their designs in its falling condition, were harvesting a fortune. But what was that to him? Business was

business. There was no use selling at ruinous figures, and he gave his lieutenants orders to stop. Unless the

bankers favored him heavily, or the stock exchange was closed, or Stener could be induced to deposit an

additional three hundred thousand with him at once, he was ruined. He hurried down the street to various

bankers and brokers suggesting that they do thisclose the exchange. At a few minutes before twelve

o'clock he drove rapidly to the station to meet Stener; but to his great disappointment the latter did not arrive.

It looked as though he had missed his train. Cowperwood sensed something, some trick; and decided to go to

the city hall and also to Stener's house. Perhaps he had returned and was trying to avoid him.

Not finding him at his office, he drove direct to his house. Here he was not surprised to meet Stener just

coming out, looking very pale and distraught. At the sight of Cowperwood he actually blanched.

"What's up, George?" asked Cowperwood. "I thought you were coming into Broad Street."

"So I was," returned Stener, foolishly, "but I thought I would get off at West Philadelphia and change my

clothes. I've a lot of things to 'tend to yet this afternoon. I was coming in to see you." After Cowperwood's

"Jump in, George," he said. "I have something very important to talk to you 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 of my

loans are being called. I want to know if you won't let me have three hundred and fifty thousand dollars for a

few days at four or five per cent. I'll pay it all back to you. I need it very badly. If I don't get it I'm likely to

fail. You know what that means, George. It will tie up every dollar I have. Those streetcar holdings of yours

will be tied up with me. I won't be able to let you realize on them, and that will put those loans of mine from

the treasury in bad shape. You won't be able to put the money back, and you know what that means. We're in

this thing together. I want to see you through safely, but I can't do it without your 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 see

my way through on this, I'm afraid, unless you're willing to help me." Cowperwood paused. He wanted to put

the whole case clearly and succinctly to him before he had a chance to refuseto make him realize it as his

As a matter of fact, what Cowperwood had keenly suspected was literally true. Stener had been reached. The

moment Butler and Simpson had left him the night before, Mollenhauer had sent for his very able secretary,

Abner Sengstack, and despatched him to learn the truth about Stener's whereabouts. Sengstack had then sent

a long wire to Strobik, who was with Stener, urging him to caution the latter against Cowperwood. The state

of the treasury was known. Stener and Strobik were to be met by Sengstack at Wilmington (this to forefend

against the possibility of Cowperwood's reaching Stener first)and the whole state of affairs made perfectly

plain. No more money was to be used under penalty of prosecution. If Stener wanted to see any one he must

see Mollenhauer. Sengstack, having received a telegram from Strobik informing him of their proposed arrival

at noon the next day, had proceeded to Wilmington to meet them. The result was that Stener did not come

direct into the business 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 see Mollenhauer before meeting Cowperwood. He was very badly

"I can't do it, Frank," he pleaded, piteously. "I'm in pretty bad in this matter. Mollenhauer's secretary met the

train out at Wilmington just 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 told them. I can't go against Mollenhauer. I owe

"Listen, George. Whatever you do at this time, don't let this political loyalty stuff cloud your judgment.

You're in a very serious position and so am I. If you don't act for yourself with me now no one is going to act

for younow or laterno one. And later will be too late. I proved that last night when I went to Butler to

get help for the two of us. They all know about this business of our streetrailway holdings and they want to

shake us out and that's the big and little of itnothing more and nothing less. It's a case of dog eat dog in this

game and this particular situation and it's up to us to save ourselves against everybody or go down together,

and that's just what I'm here to tell you. Mollenhauer doesn't care any more for you today than he does for

that lamppost. It isn't that money you've paid out to me that's worrying him, but who's getting something for

it and what. Well they know that you and I are getting streetrailways, don't you see, and they don't want us

to have them. Once they get those out of our hands they won't waste another day on you or me. Can't you see

that? Once we've lost all we've invested, you're down and so am Iand no one is going to turn a hand for

you or me politically or in any other way. I want you to understand that, George, because it's true. And before

you say you won't or you will do anything because Mollenhauer says so, you want to think over what I have

He was in front of Stener now, looking him directly in the eye and by the kinetic force of his mental way

attempting to make Stener take the one step that might save himCowperwoodhowever little in the long

run it 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 happened to 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 bird determined to galvanize him into selfish selfinterest if possible. But Stener was so

frightened that at the moment it looked as though there was little to be done with him. His face was a

grayishblue: his eyelids and eye rings puffy and his hands and lips moist. God, what a hole he was in now!

"Say that's all right, Frank," he exclaimed desperately. "I know what you say is true. But look at me and my

position, if I do give you this money. What can't they do to me, and won't. If you only look at it from my

"As though I could see you, George, when you were off duck shooting and when I was wiring everywhere I

knew to try to get in touch with you. How could I? The situation had to be met. Besides, I thought Butler was

more friendly to me than he proved. But there's no use being angry with me now, George, for going to Butler

as I did, and anyhow you can't afford to be now. We're in this thing together. It's a case of sink or swim for

just us twonot any one elsejust usdon't you get that? Butler couldn't or wouldn't do what I wanted

him to doget Mollenhauer and Simpson to support the market. Instead of that they are hammering it. They

have a game of their own. It's to shake us outcan'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 you don't let

me have three hundred and fifty thousand dollarsthree hundred thousand, anyhowyou and I are ruined.

It will be worse for you, George, than for me, for I'm not involved in this thing in any waynot legally,

anyhow. But that's not what I'm thinking of. What I want to do is to save us bothput us on easy street for

the rest of our lives, whatever they say or do, and it's in your power, with my help, to do that for both of us.

Can't you see that? I want to save my business so then I can help you to save your name and money." He

"But what can I do, Frank?" he pleaded, weakly. "I can't go against Mollenhauer. 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 you hadn't told

them, it might be different, but this way" He shook his head sadly, his gray eyes filled with a pale distress.

"George," replied Cowperwood, who realized now that only the sternest arguments would have any effect

here, "don't talk about what I did. What I did I had to do. You're in danger of losing your head and your nerve

and making a serious mistake here, and I don't want to see you make it. I have five hundred thousand of the

city's money invested for youpartly for me, and partly for you, but more for you than for me"which, by

the way, was not true"and here you are hesitating in an 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 on every sideeverybody's

stocks. You're not alone in thisneither am I. This is a panic, brought on by a fire, and you can't expect to

come out of a panic alive unless you do something to protect yourself. You say you owe your place to

Mollenhauer and that you're afraid of what he'll do. If you look at your own situation and mine, you'll see that

it doesn't make much difference what he does, so long as I don't fail. If I fail, where are you? Who's going to

save you from prosecution? Will Mollenhauer or any one else come forward and put five hundred thousand

dollars in the treasury for you? He will not. If Mollenhauer and the others have your interests at heart, why

aren't they helping me on 'change today? I'll tell you why. They want your streetrailway holdings and mine,

and they don't care whether you go to jail afterward or not. Now if you're wise you will listen to me. I've been

loyal to you, haven't I? You've made money through melots of it. If you're wise, George, you'll go to your

office and write me your check for three hundred 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't be hung any more for a sheep

than you can for a lamb. No one can prevent you from giving me that check. You're the city treasurer. Once I

have that I can see my way out of this, and I'll pay it all back to you next week or the week afterthis panic

is sure to end in that time. With that put back in the treasury we can see them about the five hundred thousand

a little later. In three months, or less, I can fix it so that you can put that back. As a matter of fact, I can do it

in fifteen days once I am on my feet again. Time is all I want. You won't have lost your holdings and nobody

will cause you any trouble if you put the money back. They don't care to risk a scandal any more than you do.

Now what'll you do, George? Mollenhauer can't stop you from doing this any more than I can make you.

Stener stood there ridiculously meditating when, as a matter of fact, his very financial blood was oozing

away. Yet he was afraid to act. He was afraid of Mollenhauer, afraid of Cowperwood, afraid of life and of

himself. The thought of panic, loss, was not so much a definite thing connected with his own property, his

money, as it was with his social and political standing in the community. Few people have the sense of

financial individuality strongly developed. They do not know what it means to be a controller of wealth, to

have that which releases the sources of social action its medium of exchange. They want money, but not

for money's sake. They want it for what it will buy in the way of simple comforts, whereas the financier

wants it for what it will controlfor what it will represent in the way of dignity, force, power. Cowperwood

wanted money in that way; Stener not. That was why he had been so ready to let Cowperwood act for him;

and now, when he should have seen more clearly than ever the significance of what Cowperwood was

proposing, he was frightened and his reason obscured by such things as Mollenhauer's probable opposition

and rage, Cowperwood's possible failure, his own inability to face a real crisis. Cowperwood's innate

financial ability did not reassure Stener in this hour. The banker was too young, too new. Mollenhauer was

older, richer. So was Simpson; so was Butler. These men, with their wealth, represented the big forces, the

big standards in his world. And besides, did not Cowperwood himself confess that he was in great

dangerthat he was in a corner. That was the worst possible confession to make to Steneralthough under

the circumstances it was the only one that could be madefor he had no courage to face danger.

So it was that now, Stener stood by Cowperwood meditatingpale, flaccid; unable to see the main line of his

interests quickly, unable to follow it definitely, surely, vigorouslywhile they drove to his office.

"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'll get out of this quick. We haven't a moment, I tell you. Don't let those people

"I can't, Frank," said Stener, finally, very weakly, his sense of his own financial future, overcome for the time

being by the thought of Mollenhauer's hard, controlling face. "I'll have to think. I can't do it right now.

"Good God, George," exclaimed Cowperwood, scornfully, "don't talk about Strobik! What's he got to do with

it? Think of yourself. Think of where you will be. It's your futurenot Strobik'sthat you have to think of."

"I know, Frank," persisted Stener, weakly; "but, really, I don't see how I can. Honestly I don't. You say

yourself you're not sure whether you can come out of things all right, and three hundred thousand more is

three hundred thousand more. I can't, Frank. I really can't. It wouldn't be right. Besides, I want to talk to

"Good God, how you talk!" exploded Cowperwood, angrily, looking at him with illconcealed contempt.

"Go ahead! See Mollenhauer! Let him tell you how to cut your own throat for his benefit. It won't be right to

loan me three hundred thousand dollars more, but it will be right to let the five hundred thousand dollars you

have loaned stand unprotected and lose it. That's right, isn't it? That's just what you propose to dolose it,

and everything else besides. I want to tell you what it is, Georgeyou've lost your mind. You've let a single

message from Mollenhauer frighten you to death, and because of that you're going to risk your fortune, your

reputation, your standingeverything. Do you really realize what this means if I fail? You will be a convict,

I tell you, George. You will go to prison. This fellow Mollenhauer, who is so quick to tell you what not to do

now, will be the last man to turn a hand for you once you're down. Why, look at meI've helped you,

haven't I? Haven't I handled your affairs satisfactorily for you up to now? What in Heaven's name has got into

Stener was just about to make another weak rejoinder when the door from the outer office opened, and Albert

Stires, Stener's chief clerk, entered. Stener was too flustered to really pay any attention to Stires for the

At the sound of this dreadful name Stener wilted like a leaf. Cowperwood saw it. He realized that his last

hope of getting the three hundred thousand dollars was now probably gone. Still he did not propose to give up

"Well, George," he said, after Albert had gone out with instructions that Stener would see Sengstack in a

moment. "I see how it is. This man has got you mesmerized. You can't act for yourself now you're too

frightened. I'll let it rest for the present; I'll come back. But for Heaven's sake pull yourself together. Think

what it means. I'm telling you exactly what's going to happen if you don't. You'll be independently rich if you

And deciding he would make one more effort in the street before seeing Butler again, he walked out briskly,

jumped into his light spring runabout waiting outsidea handsome little yellowglazed vehicle, with a

yellow leather cushion seat, drawn by a young, highstepping bay mareand sent her scudding from door to

door, throwing down the lines indifferently and bounding up the steps of banks and into office doors.

But all without avail. All were interested, considerate; but things were very uncertain. The Girard National

Bank refused an hour's grace, and he had to send a large bundle of his most valuable securities to cover his

stock shrinkage there. Word came from his father at two that as president of the Third National he would

have to call for his one hundred and fifty thousand dollars due there. The directors were suspicious of his

stocks. He at once wrote a check against fifty thousand dollars of his deposits in that bank, took twentyfive

thousand of his available office funds, called a loan of fifty thousand against Tighe & Co., and sold sixty

thousand Green & Coates, a line he had been tentatively dabbling in, for onethird their valueand,

combining the general results, sent them all to the Third National. His father was immensely relieved from

one point of view, but sadly depressed from another. He hurried out at the noonhour to see what his own

holdings would bring. He was compromising himself in a way by doing it, but his parental 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, and deposited it in his own

bank to Frank's credit; but it was a very light anchor to windward in this swirling storm, at that. Frank had

been counting on getting all of his loans extended three or four days at least. Reviewing his situation at two

o'clock of this Monday afternoon, he said to himself thoughtfully but grimly: "Well, Stener has to loan me

three hundred thousandthat's all there is to it. And I'll have to see Butler now, or he'll be calling his loan

Things had changed greatly since last Cowperwood had talked with Butler. Although most friendly at the

time the proposition was made that he should combine with Mollenhauer and Simpson to sustain the market,

alas, now on this Monday morning at nine o'clock, an additional complication had been added to the already

tangled situation which had changed Butler's attitude completely. As he was leaving his home to enter his

runabout, at nine o'clock in the morning of this same day in which Cowperwood was seeking Stener's aid, the

postman, coming up, had handed Butler four letters, all of which he paused for a moment to glance at. One

was from a subcontractor by the name of O'Higgins, the second was from Father Michel, his confessor, of

St. Timothy's, thanking him for a contribution to the parish poor fund; a third was from Drexel & Co. relating

to a deposit, and the fourth was an anonymous communication, on cheap stationery from some one who was

apparently not very literatea woman most likelywritten in a scrawling hand, which read:

There was neither signature nor mark of any kind to indicate from whence it might have come. Butler got the

impression strongly that it might have been written by some one living in the vicinity of the number

indicated. His intuitions were keen at times. As a matter of fact, it was written by a girl, a member of St.

Timothy's Church, who did live in the vicinity of the house indicated, and who knew Aileen by sight and was

jealous of her airs and her position. She was a thin, anemic, dissatisfied creature who had the type of brain

which can reconcile the gratification of personal spite with a comforting sense of having fulfilled a moral

duty. Her home was some five doors north of the unregistered Cowperwood domicile on the opposite side of

the street, and by degrees, in the course of time, she made out, or imagined that she had, the significance of

this institution, piecing fact to fancy and fusing all with that keen intuition which is so closely related to fact.

The result was eventually this letter which now spread clear and grim before Butler's eyes.

The Irish are a philosophic as well as a practical race. Their first and strongest impulse is to make the best of

a bad situation to put a better face on evil than it normally wears. On first reading these lines the

intelligence they conveyed sent a peculiar chill over Butler's sturdy frame. His jaw instinctively closed, and

his gray eyes narrowed. Could this be true? If it were not, would the author of the letter say so practically, "If

you don't believe it, watch the house at 931 North Tenth Street"? Wasn't that in itself proof positivethe

hard, matteroffact realism of it? And this was the man who had come to him the night before seeking

aidwhom he had done so much to assist. There forced itself into his naturally slowmoving but rather

accurate mind a sense of the distinction and charm of his daughtera considerably sharper picture than he

had ever had before, and at the same time a keener understanding of the personality of Frank Algernon

Cowperwood. How was it he had failed to detect the real subtlety of this man? How was it he had never seen

Parents are frequently inclined, because of a timeflattered sense of security, to take their children for

granted. Nothing ever has happened, so nothing ever will happen. They see their children every day, and

through the eyes of affection; and despite their natural charm and their own strong parental love, the children

are apt to become not only commonplaces, but ineffably secure against evil. Mary is naturally a good girla

little wild, but what harm can befall her? John is a straightforward, steadygoing boyhow could he get

into trouble? The astonishment of most parents at the sudden accidental revelation of evil in 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 themselves astonishingly abased in the face of notable tenderness and sacrifice.

Others collapse before the grave manifestation of the insecurity and uncertainty of lifethe 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 incomprehensible chemistry which we call life and personality, and,

knowing that it is quite vain to hope to gainsay it, save by greater subtlety, put the best face they can upon the

matter and call a truce until they can think. We all know that life is unsolvable we who think. The

remainder imagine a vain 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 thin slip of cheap paper which contained such a terrific indictment of his daughter.

There came to him now a picture of her as she was when she was a very little girlshe was his first baby

girland how keenly he had felt about her all these years. She had been a beautiful childher redgold 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 twentythree! He was lost in dark, strange,

unhappy speculations, without any present ability to think or say or do the right thing. He did not know what

the right thing was, he finally confessed to himself. Aileen! Aileen! His Aileen! If her mother knew this it

The heart of a father! The world wanders into many strange bypaths of affection. The love of a mother for

her children is dominant, leonine, selfish, and unselfish. It is concentric. The love of a husband for his wife,

or of a lover for his sweetheart, is a sweet bond of agreement and exchange trade in a lovely contest. The love

of a father for his son or daughter, where it is love at all, is a broad, generous, sad, contemplative giving

without thought of return, a hail and farewell to a troubled traveler whom he would do much to guard, a

balanced judgment of weakness and strength, with pity for failure and pride in achievement. It is a lovely,

generous, philosophic blossom which rarely asks too much, and seeks only to give wisely and plentifully.

"That my boy may succeed! That my daughter may be happy!" Who has not heard and dwelt upon these twin

As Butler drove downtown his huge, slowmoving, in some respects chaotic mind turned over as rapidly as

he could all of the possibilities in connection with this unexpected, sad, and disturbing revelation. Why had

Cowperwood not been satisfied with his wife? Why should he enter into his (Butler's) home, of all places, to

establish a clandestine relationship of this character? Was Aileen in any way to blame? She was not without

mental resources of her own. She must have known what she was doing. She was a good Catholic, or, at least,

had been raised so. All these years she had been going regularly to confession and communion. True, of late

Butler had noticed that she did not care so much about going to church, would sometimes make excuses and

stay at home on Sundays; but she had gone, as a rule. And now, nowhis thoughts would come to the end of

a blind alley, and then he would start back, as it were, mentally, to the center of things, and begin all over

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 bothered him with an occasional matter of interest, but, finding him

moody, finally abandoned him to his own speculations. It was twelve, and then one, and he was still sitting

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 streetrailway interests.

The floor space controlled by the company was divided into the usual official compartments, with sections

for the bookkeepers, the roadmanagers, the treasurer, and so on. Owen Butler, and his father had small but

attractively furnished offices in the rear, where they transacted all the important business of the company.

During this drive, curiously, by reason of one of those strange psychologic intuitions which so often precede

a human difficulty of one sort or another, he had been thinking of Aileen. He was thinking of the peculiarity

of his relationship with her, and of the fact that now he was running to her father for assistance. As he

mounted the stairs he had a peculiar sense of the untoward; but he could not, in his view of life, give it

countenance. One glance at Butler showed him that something had gone amiss. He was not so friendly; his

glance was dark, and there was a certain sternness to his countenance which had never previously been

manifested there in Cowperwood's memory. He perceived at once that here was something different from a

mere intention to refuse him 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 loanthat was to be called, surely. And as for an additional loan, he could

"I came to see you about that loan of yours, Mr. Butler," he observed, briskly, with an oldtime, jaunty air.

You could not have told from his manner or his face that he had observed anything out of the ordinary.

Butler, who was alone in the roomOwen having gone into an adjoining roommerely stared at him from

An oldtime Irish rage suddenly welled up in his bosom as he contemplated this jaunty, sophisticated undoer

"I judged from the way things were going this morning that you might want it," Cowperwood replied, quietly,

"The bottom's out, and it'll not be put back soon, I'm thinkin'. I'll have to have what's belongin' to me today.

"Very well," replied Cowperwood, who saw clearly how treacherous the situation was. The old man was in a

dour mood. His presence was an irritation to him, for some reasona deadly provocation. Cowperwood felt

He must pretend business hurry and end this. "I'm sorry. I thought I might get an extension; but that's all

He had thought to denounce or even assault this man. He was about to make some insinuating remark which

would compel an answer, some direct charge; but Cowperwood was out and away as jaunty as ever.

The old man was flustered, enraged, disappointed. He opened the small office door which led into the

Owen was puzzled by the old man's angry mood. He wondered what it all meant, but thought he and

Cowperwood might have had a few words. He went out to his desk to write a note and call a clerk. Butler

"The dirty dog!" he suddenly exclaimed to himself, in a low voice. "I'll take every dollar he's got before I'm

Never in his life before had he been so bitter, so cruel, so relentless in his mood.

He walked his office floor thinking what he could do. Question Aileenthat was what he would do. If her

face, or her lips, told him that his suspicion was true, he would deal with Cowperwood later. This city

treasurer business, now. It was not a crime in so far as Cowperwood was concerned; but it might be made to

So now, telling the clerk to say to Owen that he had gone down the street for a few moments, he boarded a

streetcar and rode out to his home, where he found his elder daughter just getting ready to go out. She wore

a purplevelvet street dress edged with narrow, flat gilt braid, and a striking goldandpurple turban. She

had on dainty new boots of bronze kid and long gloves of lavender suede. In her ears was one of her latest

affectations, a pair of long jet earrings. The old Irishman realized on this occasion, when he saw her, perhaps

more clearly than he ever had in his life, that he had grown a bird of rare plumage.

"Where are you going, daughter?" he asked, with a rather unsuccessful attempt to conceal his fear, distress,

"To the library," she said easily, and yet with a sudden realization that all was not right with her father. His

Aileen heard this with a strange feeling of curiosity and wonder. It was not customary for her father to want

to see her in his office just when she was going out; and his manner indicated, in this instance, that the

exceptional procedure portended a strange revelation of some kind. Aileen, like every other person who

offends against a rigid convention of the time, was conscious of and sensitive to the possible disastrous

results which would follow exposure. She had often thought about what her family would think if they knew

what she was doing; she had never been able to satisfy herself in her mind as to what they would do. Her

father was a very vigorous man. But she had never known him to be cruel or 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 be

Butler led the way, planting his big feet solemnly on the steps as he went up. Aileen followed with a single

glance at herself in the tall piermirror which stood in the hall, realizing at once how charming she looked

and how uncertain she was feeling about what was to follow. What could her father want? It made the color

Butler strolled into his stuffy room and sat down in the big leather chair, disproportioned to everything else in

the chamber, but which, nevertheless, accompanied his desk. Before him, against the light, was the visitor's

chair, in which he liked to have those sit whose faces he was anxious to study. When Aileen entered he

She took the seat, not knowing what to make of his procedure. On the instant 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. Her pretty face strengthened and hardened on

the instant. Her small, white teeth set themselves in two even rows; and her father saw quite plainly that she

was consciously bracing herself for an attack of some kind. He feared by this that she was guilty, and he was

all the more distressed, ashamed, outraged, made wholly unhappy. He fumbled in the lefthand pocket of his

coat and drew forth from among the various papers the fatal communication so cheap in its physical texture.

His big fingers fumbled almost tremulously as he fished the lettersheet out of the small envelope and

unfolded it without saying a word. Aileen watched his face and his hands, wondering what it could be that he

had here. He handed 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 her eyes to the paper. Her relief vanished in a

second, when she realized how in a moment she would have to raise them again and look him in the face.

In spite of herself the color fled from her cheeks instantly, only to come back in a hot, defiant wave.

"Why, what a lie!" she said, lifting her eyes to her father's. "To think that any one should write such a thing of

Old Butler looked at her narrowly, solemnly. He was not deceived to any extent by her bravado. If she were

really innocent, he knew she would have jumped to her feet in her defiant way. Protest would have been

written all over her. As it was, she only stared haughtily. He read through her eager defiance to the guilty

"How do ye know, daughter, that I haven't had the house watched?" he said, quizzically. "How do ye know

Only Aileen's solemn promise to her lover could have saved her from this subtle thrust. As it was, she paled

nervously; but she saw Frank Cowperwood, solemn and distinguished, asking her what she would say if she

"It's a lie!" she said, catching her breath. "I wasn't at any house at that number, and no one saw me going in

In spite of his mixed feelings of uncertainty and yet unshakable belief that his daughter was guilty, he could

not help admiring her courageshe was so defiant, as she sat there, so set in her determination to lie and thus

defend herself. Her beauty helped her in his mood, raised her in his esteem. After all, what could you do with

a woman of this kind? She was not a tenyearold girl any more, as in a way he sometimes continued to

"Ye oughtn't to say that if it isn't true, Aileen," he said. "Ye oughtn't to lie. It's against your faith. Why would

"But it's not so," insisted Aileen, pretending anger and outraged feeling, "and I don't think you have any right

to sit there and say that to me. I haven't been there, and I'm not running around with Mr. Cowperwood. Why,

"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 the house

watched. I only got this this mornin'. And what's written here may not 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 save yourself, I want ye

to think of your mother and your sister and your brothers, and be a good girl. Think of the church ye was

raised in, and the 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, the city, big as it is, wouldn't be big enough to hold us. Your brothers

have got a reputation to make, their work to do here. You and your sister want to get married sometime. How

could ye expect to look the world in the face and do anythin' at all if ye are doin' what this letter says ye are,

The old man's voice was thick with a strange, sad, alien emotion. He did not want to believe that his daughter

was guilty, even though he knew she was. He did not want to face what he considered in his vigorous,

religious way to be his duty, that of reproaching her sternly. There were some fathers who would have turned

her out, he fancied. There were others who might possibly kill Cowperwood after a subtle investigation. That

course was not for him. If vengeance he was to have, it must be through politics and finance he must drive

him out. But as for doing anything desperate in connection with Aileen, he could not think of it.

"Oh, father," returned Aileen, with considerable histrionic ability in her assumption of pettishness, "how can

The old Irishman saw through her makebelieve with profound sadnessthe feeling that one of his dearest

hopes had been shattered. He had expected so much of her socially and matrimonially. Why, any one of a

dozen remarkable young men might have married her, and she would have had lovely children to comfort

"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 can scarcely belave anythin' wrong of ye. I don't want to, God knows. Ye're a grown

woman, though, now; and if ye are doin' anythin' wrong I don't suppose 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 a proposed protest on the part of Aileen"remember,

I'm certain to find it out in the long run, and Philadelphy won't be big enough to hold me 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 turned

a livid face to the wall, and Aileen saw clearly that Cowperwood, in addition to any other troubles which

might beset him, had her father to deal with. Was this why Frank had looked so sternly at her the night

"Why, your mother would die of a broken heart if she thought there was anybody could say the least word

against ye," pursued Butler, in a shaken voice. "This man has a familya wife and children, Ye oughtn't to

want to do anythin' to hurt them. They'll have trouble enough, if I'm not mistakenfacin' what's comin' to

them in the future," and Butler's jaw hardened just a little. "Ye're a beautiful girl. Ye're young. Ye have

money. There's dozens of young men'd be proud to make ye their wife. 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 ungenerousfool of mingled affection and passion could now have cried. She pitied her father

from her heart; but her allegiance was to Cowperwood, her loyalty unshaken. She wanted to say something,

to protest much more; but she knew that it was useless. Her father knew that 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 downstairs door closed with a light slam, indicating that one of the boys had come in. Her

proposed trip to the library was now without interest to her. "You won't believe me, anyhow. I tell you,

Butler lifted his big, brown hand to command silence. She saw that this shameful relationship, as far as her

father was concerned, had been made quite clear, and that this trying conference was now at an end. She

turned and walked shamefacedly out. He waited until he heard her steps fading into faint nothings down the

"The scoundrel!" he said. "The scoundrel! I'll drive him out of Philadelphy, if it takes the last dollar I have in

For the first time in his life Cowperwood felt conscious of having been in the presence of that interesting

social phenomenonthe outraged sentiment of a parent. While he had no absolute knowledge as to why

Butler had been so enraged, he felt that Aileen was the contributing cause. He himself was a father. His boy,

Frank, Jr., was to him not so remarkable. But little Lillian, with her dainty little slip of a body and

brightaureoled head, had always appealed to him. She was going to be a charming woman one day, he

thought, and he was going to do much to establish her safely. He used to tell her that she had "eyes like

buttons," "feet like a pussycat," and hands that were "just five cents' worth," they were so little. The child

admired her father and would often stand by his chair in the library or the sittingroom, or his desk in his

This attitude toward his own daughter made him see clearly how Butler might feel toward Aileen. He

wondered how he would feel if it were his own little Lillian, and still he did not believe he would make much

fuss over the matter, either with himself or with her, if she were as old as Aileen. Children and their lives

were more or less above the willing of parents, anyhow, and it would be a difficult thing for any parent to

control any child, unless the child were naturally docileminded and willing to be controlled.

It also made him smile, in a grim way, to see how fate was raining difficulties on him. The Chicago fire,

Stener's early absence, Butler, Mollenhauer, and Simpson's indifference to Stener's fate and his. And now this

probable revelation in connection with Aileen. He could not be sure as yet, but his intuitive instincts told him

Now he was distressed as to what Aileen would do, say if suddenly she were confronted by her father. If he

could only get to her! But if he was to meet Butler's call for his loan, and the others which would come yet

today or on the morrow, there was not a moment to lose. If he did not pay he must assign at once. Butler's

rage, Aileen, his own danger, were brushed aside for the moment. His mind concentrated wholly on how to

He hurried to visit George Waterman; David Wiggin, his wife's brother, who was now fairly well to do;

Joseph Zimmerman, the wealthy drygoods dealer who had dealt with him in the past; Judge Kitchen, a

private manipulator of considerable wealth; Frederick Van Nostrand, the State treasurer, who was interested

in local streetrailway stocks, and others. Of all those to whom he appealed one was actually not in a position

to do anything for him; another was afraid; a third was calculating eagerly to drive a hard bargain; a fourth

was too deliberate, anxious to have much time. All scented the true value of his situation, all wanted time to

consider, and he had no time to consider. Judge Kitchen did agree to lend him thirty thousand dollarsa

paltry sum. Joseph Zimmerman would only risk twentyfive thousand dollars. He could see where, all told,

he might raise seventyfive thousand dollars by hypothecating double the amount in shares; but this was

ridiculously insufficient. He had figured again, to a dollar, and he must have at least two hundred and fifty

thousand dollars above all his present holdings, or he must close his doors. Tomorrow at two o'clock he

would know. If he didn't he would be written down as "failed" on a score of ledgers in Philadelphia.

What a pretty pass for one to come to whose hopes had so recently run so high! There was a loan of one

hundred thousand dollars from the Girard National Bank which he was particularly anxious to clear off. This

bank was the most important in the city, and if he retained its good will by meeting this loan promptly he

might hope for favors in the future whatever happened. Yet, at the moment, he did not see how he could do it.

He decided, however, after some reflection, that he would deliver the stocks which Judge Kitchen,

Zimmerman, and others had agreed to take and get their checks or cash yet this night. Then he would

persuade Stener to let him have a check for the sixty thousand dollars' worth of city loan he had purchased

this morning on 'change. Out of it he could take twentyfive thousand dollars to make up the balance due the

The one unfortunate thing about such an arrangement was that by doing it he was building up a rather

complicated situation in regard to these same certificates. Since their purchase in the morning, he had not

deposited them in the sinkingfund, where they belonged (they had been delivered to his office by half past

one in the afternoon), but, on the contrary, had immediately hypothecated them to cover another loan. It was

a risky thing to have done, considering that he was in danger of failing and that he was not absolutely sure of

But, he reasoned, he had a working agreement with the city treasurer (illegal of course), which would make

such a transaction rather plausible, and almost all right, even if he failed, and that was that none of his

accounts were supposed necessarily to be put straight until the end of the month. If he failed, and the

certificates were not in the sinkingfund, he could say, as was the truth, that he was in the habit of taking his

time, and had forgotten. This collecting of a check, therefore, for these as yet undeposited certificates would

be technically, if not legally and morally, plausible. The city would be out only an additional sixty thousand

dollarsmaking five hundred and sixty thousand dollars all told, which in view of its probable loss of five

hundred thousand did not make so much difference. But his caution clashed with his need on this occasion,

and he decided that he would not call for the check unless Stener finally refused to aid him with three

hundred thousand more, in which case he would claim it as his right. In all likelihood Stener would not think

to ask whether the certificates were in the sinkingfund or not. If he did, he would have to liethat was all.

He drove rapidly back to his office, and, finding Butler's note, as he expected, wrote a check on his father's

bank for the one hundred thousand dollars which had been placed to his credit by his loving parent, and sent

it around to Butler's office. There was another note, from Albert Stires, Stener's secretary, advising him not to

buy or sell any more city loanthat until further notice such transactions would not be honored.

Cowperwood immediately sensed the source of this warning. Stener had been in conference with Butler or

Mollenhauer, and had been warned and frightened. Nevertheless, he got in his buggy again and drove directly

Since Cowperwood's visit Stener had talked still more with Sengstack, Strobik, and others, all sent to see that

a proper fear of things financial had been put in his heart. The result was decidedly one which spelled

Strobik was considerably disturbed himself. He and Wycroft and Harmon had also been using money out of

the treasurymuch smaller sums, of course, for they had not Cowperwood's financial imagination and

were disturbed as to how they would return what they owed before the storm broke. If Cowperwood failed,

and Stener was short in his accounts, the whole budget might be investigated, and then their loans would be

brought to light. The thing to do was to return what they owed, and then, at least, no charge of malfeasance

"Go to Mollenhauer," Strobik had advised Stener, shortly after Cowperwood 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 where you 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 help yourself. Don't loan Cowperwood another damned dollar, whatever you do. He's got you in

so deep now you can hardly hope to get out. Ask Mollenhauer if he won't help you to get Cowperwood to put

There was more in this conversation to the same effect, and then Stener hurried as fast as his legs could carry

him to Mollenhauer's office. He was so frightened that he could scarcely breathe, and he was quite ready to

throw himself on his knees before the big GermanAmerican financier and leader. Oh, if Mr. Mollenhauer

"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 he wastrained in a hard schoolwas

He was wondering, in view of what Butler had told him, just how much he could advantage himself in this

situation. If he could, he wanted to get control of whatever streetrailway stock Stener now had, without in

any way compromising himself. Stener's shares could easily be transferred on 'change through Mollenhauer's

brokers to a dummy, who would eventually transfer them to himself (Mollenhauer). Stener must be squeezed

thoroughly, though, this afternoon, and as for his five hundred thousand dollars' indebtedness to the treasury,

Mollenhauer did not see what could be done about that. If Cowperwood could not pay it, the city would have

to lose it; but the scandal must be hushed up until after election. Stener, unless the various party leaders had

more generosity than Mollenhauer 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 public excitement died down. He did not trouble to think whether Cowperwood was criminally involved

or not. A hundred to one he was not. Trust a shrewd man like that to take care of himself. But if there was any

way to shoulder the blame on to Cowperwood, and so clear the treasurer and the skirts of the party, he would

not object to that. He wanted to hear the full story of Stener's relations with the broker first. Meanwhile, the

The troubled city treasurer, on being shown in Mr. Mollenhauer's presence, at once sank feebly in a chair and

collapsed. He was entirely done for mentally. His nerve was gone, his courage exhausted like a breath.

"Well, Mr. Stener?" queried Mr. Mollenhauer, impressively, pretending not to know what brought him.

"Well, he owes me, or the city treasury rather, five hundred thousand dollars, and I understand that he is

"Mr. Sengstack, and since then Mr. Cowperwood has been to see me. He tells me he must have more money

or he will fail and he wants to borrow three hundred thousand dollars more. He says he must have it."

"So!" said Mr. Mollenhauer, impressively, and with an air of astonishment 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 this case comes to trial, no court would have any mercy

on you. It's going to be difficult enough to do anything for you as it is. However, if you don't advance him

any morewe will see. It may be possible, I can't say, but at any rate, no more money must leave the

treasury to bolster up this bad business. It's much too difficult as it now is." He stared at Stener warningly.

And he, shaken and sick, yet because of the faint suggestion of mercy involved somewhere in Mollenhauer's

remarks, now slipped from his chair to his knees and folded his hands in the uplifted attitude of a devotee

"Oh, Mr. Mollenhauer," he choked, beginning to cry, "I didn't mean to do anything wrong. Strobik and

Wycroft told me it was all right. You sent me to Cowperwood in the first place. I only did what I thought the

others 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 to go to jail. I didn't think I was doing

anything very wronghonestly I didn't. I'll give up all I've got. You can have all my stocks and houses and

lotsanythingif you'll only get me out of this. You won't let 'em send me to jail, will you?"

His fat, white lips were tremblingwabbling nervouslyand big hot tears were coursing down his

previously pale but now flushed cheeks. He presented one of those almost unbelievable pictures which are yet

so intensely human and so true. If only the great financial and political giants would for once accurately

Mollenhauer looked at him calmly, meditatively. How often had he seen weaklings no more dishonest than

himself, but without his courage and subtlety, pleading to him in this fashion, not on their knees exactly, but

intellectually so! Life to him, as to every other man of large practical knowledge and insight, was an

inexplicable tangle. What were you going to do about the socalled morals and precepts of the world? This

man Stener fancied that he was dishonest, and that he, Mollenhauer, was honest. He was here, selfconvicted

of sin, pleading to him, Mollenhauer, as he would to a righteous, unstained saint. As a matter of fact,

Mollenhauer knew that he was simply shrewder, more farseeing, more calculating, not less dishonest. Stener

was lacking in force and brainsnot morals. This lack was his principal crime. There were people who

believed in some esoteric standard of rightsome ideal of conduct absolutely and very far removed from

practical life; but he had never seen them practice it save to their own financial (not moral he would not

say that) destruction. They were never significant, practical men who clung to these fatuous ideals. They were

always poor, nondescript, negligible dreamers. He could not have made Stener understand all this if he had

wanted to, and he certainly did not want to. It was too bad about Mrs. Stener and the little Steners. No doubt

she had worked hard, as had Stener, to get up in the world and be somethingjust a little more than

miserably poor; and now this unfortunate complication had to arise to undo themthis Chicago fire. What a

curious thing that was! If any one thing more than another made him doubt the existence of a kindly,

overruling Providence, it was the unheralded storms out of clear skiesfinancial, social, anything you

"Get Up, Stener," he said, calmly, after a few moments. "You mustn't give way to your feelings like this. You

must not cry. These troubles are never unraveled by tears. You must do a little thinking for yourself. Perhaps

As he was saying this Stener was putting himself back in his chair, getting out his handkerchief, and sobbing

"I'll do what I can, Stener. I won't promise anything. I can't tell you what the result will be. There are many

peculiar political forces in this city. I may not be able to save you, but I am perfectly willing to try. You must

put yourself absolutely under my direction. You must not say or do anything without first consulting with me.

I will send my secretary to you from time to time. He will tell you what to do. You must not come to me

"Well, now, dry your eyes. I don't want you to go out of this office crying. 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 for you

He got up, large, selfconfident, reserved. Stener, buoyed up by the subtle reassurance of his remarks,

recovered to a degree his equanimity. Mr. Mollenhauer, the great, powerful Mr. Mollenhauer was going to

help him 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, but otherwise free of telltale marks, and returned to his office.

Threequarters of an hour later, Sengstack called on him for the second time that dayAbner Sengstack,

small, darkfaced, clubfooted, a great sole of leather three inches thick under his short, withered right leg,

his slightly Slavic, highly intelligent countenance burning with a pair of keen, piercing, inscrutable black

eyes. Sengstack was a fit secretary for Mollenhauer. You could see at one glance that he would make Stener

do exactly what Mollenhauer suggested. His business was to induce Stener to part with his streetrailway

holdings at once through Tighe & Co., Butler's brokers, to the political subagent who would eventually

transfer them to Mollenhauer. What little Stener received for them might well go into the treasury. Tighe &

Co. would manage the "'change" subtleties of this without giving any one else a chance to bid, while at the

same time making it appear an openmarket transaction. At the same time Sengstack went carefully into the

state of the treasurer's office for his master's benefitfinding out what it was that Strobik, Wycroft, and

Harmon had been doing with their loans. Via another source they were ordered to disgorge at once or face

prosecution. They were a part of Mollenhauer's political machine. Then, having cautioned Stener not to set

over the remainder of his property to any one, and not to listen to any one, most of all to the Machiavellian

Needless to say, Mollenhauer was greatly gratified by this turn of affairs. Cowperwood was now most likely

in a position where he would have to come and see him, or if not, a good share of the properties he controlled

were already in Mollenhauer's possession. If by some hook or crook he could secure the remainder, Simpson

and Butler might well talk to him about this streetrailway business. His holdings were now as large as any,

It was in the face of this very altered situation that Cowperwood arrived at Stener's office late this Monday

Stener was quite alone, worried and distraught. He was anxious to see Cowperwood, and at the same time

"George," began Cowperwood, briskly, on seeing him, "I haven't much time to spare now, but I've come,

finally, to tell you that you'll have to let 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 on my loans; but this storm isn't going to

He was looking at Stener's face, and seeing fear and a pained and yet very definite necessity for opposition

written there. "Chicago is burning, but it will be built up again. Business will be all the better for it later on.

Stener stirred uneasily. "Don't let these politicians scare you to death. It will all blow over in a few days, and

"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 nervous that he had had a hard time keeping his seat during this short, direct

conversation. "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 his arms wildly"you've got to get me out of this. You've got to let me have

that five hundred thousand back and get me out of this. If you don't, and you should fail, they'll send me to

the penitentiary. I've got a wife and four children, Frank. I can't go on in this. It's too big for me. I never

should have gone in on it in the first place. I never would have if you hadn't persuaded me, in a way. I never

thought when I began 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 back that five hundred thousand, and we'll call it even." His voice

rose nervously as he talked, and he wiped his wet forehead with his hand and stared at Cowperwood

Cowperwood stared at him in return for a few moments with a cold, fishy eye. He knew a great deal about

human nature, and he was ready for and expectant of any queer shift in an individual's attitude, particularly in

time of panic; but this shift of Stener's was quite too much. "Whom else have you been talking to, George,

"He says just what Mollenhauer does, that I mustn't loan any more money under any circumstances, and he

"And you think Mollenhauer wants to help you, do you?" inquired Cowperwood, finding it hard to efface the

"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

"Listen to me," began Cowperwood, eyeing him fixedly. Then he paused. "What did he say you should do

"Sell them through Tighe & Company and put the money back in the treasury, if you won't take them."

"I thought so," said Cowperwood, comprehendingly. "I might have known as much. They're working you,

George. They're simply trying to get your stocks away from you. Mollenhauer is leading you on. He knows I

can't do what you wantgive you back the five hundred thousand dollars. He wants you 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 me in his clutches, or he thinks he hashe and Butler and Simpson. They want to get together on

this local streetrailway situation, and I know it, I feel it. I've felt it coming all along. Mollenhauer hasn't any

more intention of helping you than he has of flying. Once you've sold your stocks he's through with

youmark my word. Do you think he'll turn a hand to keep you out of the penitentiary once you're out of

this streetrailway situation? He will not. And if you think so, you're a bigger fool than I take you to be,

George. Don't go crazy. Don't lose your head. Be sensible. Look the situation in the face. Let me explain it to

you. If you don't help me nowif you don't let me have three hundred thousand dollars by tomorrow noon,

at the very latest, I'm through, and so are you. There is not a thing the matter with our situation. Those stocks

of ours are as good today as they ever were. Why, great heavens, man, the railways are there behind them.

They're paying. The Seventeenth and Nineteenth Street line is earning one thousand dollars a day right now.

What better evidence do you want than that? Green & Coates is earning five hundred dollars. You're

frightened, George. These damned political schemers have scared you. Why, you've as good a right to loan

that money as Bode and Murtagh had before you. They did it. You've been doing it for Mollenhauer and the

others, only so long as you do it for them it's all right. What's a designated city depository but a loan?"

Cowperwood was referring to the system under which certain portions of city money, like the sinkingfund,

were permitted to be kept in certain banks at a low rate of interest or no ratebanks in which Mollenhauer

"Don't throw your chances away, George. Don't quit now. You'll be worth millions in a few years, and you

won't have to turn a hand. All you will have to do will be to keep what you have. If you don't help me, mark

my word, they'll throw you over the moment I'm out of this, and they'll let you go to the penitentiary. Who's

going to put up five hundred thousand dollars for you, George? Where is Mollenhauer going to get it, or

Butler, 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 any one else. They can't hurt me, George. I'm an agent. I didn't ask you to

come to me. You came to me in the first place of your own accord. If you don't help me, you're through, I tell

you, and you're going to be sent to the penitentiary as sure as there are jails. Why don't you take a stand,

George? Why don't you stand your ground? You have your wife and children to look after. You can't be any

worse off loaning me three hundred thousand more than you are right now. What difference does it

makefive hundred thousand or eight hundred thousand? It's all one and the same thing, if you're going to

be tried for it. Besides, if you loan me this, there isn't going to be any trial. I'm not going to fail. This storm

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

"I can't, Frank," he wailed. "I tell you I can't. They'll punish me worse than ever if I do that. They'll never let

In Stener's crumpling weakness Cowperwood read his own fate. What could you do with a man like that?

How brace him up? You couldn't! And with a gesture of infinite understanding, disgust, noble indifference,

"George," he said, "I'm sorry. I'm sorry for you, not for myself. I'll come 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'll be a convict, and

you'll have only yourself to blame. There isn't a thing the matter with this money situation except the fire.

There isn't a thing wrong with my affairs except this slump in stocksthis 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 a rabbit, and who haven't any interest in you except to plan what they can get out of you, to frighten you

and prevent you from doing the one thing that will save your life. Three hundred thousand paltry dollars that

in three or four weeks from now I can pay back to you four and five times over, and for that you will see me

go broke and yourself to the penitentiary. I can't understand it, George. You're out of your mind. You're going

He waited a few moments to see if this, by any twist of chance, would have 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 the least sign of weakening or despair. He

had felt all along as though there 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 be daunted. Even in this very beginning of a tendency to feel despondent he threw back his

In the large room outside Stener's private office he encountered Albert Stires, Stener's chief clerk and

secretary. He and Albert had exchanged many friendly greetings in times past, and all the little minor

transactions in regard to city loan had been discussed between them, for Albert knew more of the intricacies

At the sight of Stires the thought in regard to the sixty thousand dollars' worth of city loan certificates,

previously referred to, flashed suddenly through his mind. He had not deposited them in the sinkingfund,

and did not intend to for the presentcould not, unless considerable free money were to reach him

shortlyfor he had used them to satisfy other pressing demands, and had no free money to buy them

backor, in other words, release them. And he did not want to just at this moment. Under the law governing

transactions of this kind with the city treasurer, he was supposed to deposit them at once to the credit of the

city, and not to draw his pay therefor from the city treasurer until he had. To be very exact, the city treasurer,

under the law, was not supposed to pay him for any transaction of this kind until he or his agents presented a

voucher from the bank or other organization carrying the sinkingfund for the city showing that the

certificates so purchased had actually been deposited there. As a matter of fact, under the custom which had

grown up between him and Stener, the law had long been ignored in this respect. He could buy certificates of

city loan for the sinkingfund up to any reasonable amount, hypothecate them where he pleased, and draw

his pay from the city without presenting a voucher. At the end of the month sufficient certificates of city loan

could usually be gathered from one source and another to make up the deficiency, or the deficiency could

actually be ignored, as had been done on more than one occasion, for long periods of time, while he used

money secured by hypothecating the shares for speculative purposes. This was actually illegal; but neither

The trouble with this particular transaction was the note that he had received from Stener ordering him to stop

both buying and selling, which put his relations with the city treasury on a very formal basis. He had bought

these certificates before receiving this note, but had not deposited them. He was going now to collect his

check; but perhaps the old, easy system of balancing matters at the end of the month might not be said to

obtain any longer. Stires might ask him to present a voucher of deposit. If so, he could not now get this check

for sixty thousand dollars, for he did not have the certificates to deposit. If not, he might get the money; but,

also, it might constitute the basis of some subsequent legal action. If he did not eventually deposit the

certificates before failure, some charge such as that of larceny might be brought against him. Still, he said to

himself, he might not really fail 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? Would the city officials pay any attention to him if he did? Could you get any district attorney to take

cognizance of such a transaction, if Stener did complain? No, not in all likelihood; and, anyhow, nothing

would come of it. No jury would punish him in the face of the understanding existing 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 no more about it. It would go in among the various unsatisfied liabilities, and nothing more would be

thought about it. Like lightning the entire situation hashed through his mind. He would risk it. He stopped

"Albert," he said, in a low voice, "I bought sixty thousand dollars' worth of city loan for the sinkingfund this

morning. Will you give my boy a check for it in the morning, or, better yet, will you give it to me now? I got

your note about no more purchases. I'm going back to the office. You can just credit the sinkingfund with

eight hundred certificates at from seventyfive to eighty. I'll send you the itemized list later."

"Certainly, Mr. Cowperwood, certainly," replied Albert, with alacrity. "Stocks are getting an awful knock,

"Not very, Albert," replied Cowperwood, smiling, the while the chief clerk was making out his check. He

was wondering if by any chance Stener would appear and attempt to interfere with this. It was a legal

transaction. He had a right to the check provided he deposited the certificates, as was his custom, with the

trustee of the fund. He waited tensely while Albert wrote, and finally, with the check actually in his hand,

breathed a sigh of relief. Here, at least, was sixty thousand dollars, and tonight's work would enable him to

cash the seventyfive thousand that had been promised him. Tomorrow, once more he must see Leigh,

Kitchen, Jay Cooke & Co., Edward Clark & Co.all the long list of people to whom he owed loans and find

But time was not a thing to be had in this emergency. With the seventyfive thousand dollars his friends had

extended to him, and sixty thousand dollars secured from Stires, Cowperwood met the Girard call and placed

the balance, thirtyfive thousand dollars, in a private safe in his own home. He then made a final appeal to

the bankers and financiers, but they refused to help him. He did not, however, commiserate himself in 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, asking him to call for lunch. He sent a note to his lawyer, Harper Steger, a man of his own

age whom he liked very much, and asked him to call also. He evolved in his own mind various plans of

delay, addresses to creditors and the like, but alas! he was going to fail. And the worst of it was that this

matter of the city treasurer's loans was bound to become a public, and more than a public, a political, scandal.

And the charge of conniving, if not illegally, at least morally, at the misuse of the city's money was the one

How industriously his rivals would advertise this fact! He might get on his feet again if he failed; but it would

be uphill work. And his father! His father would be pulled down with him. It was probable that he would be

forced out of the presidency of his bank. With these thoughts Cowperwood sat there waiting. As he did so

Aileen Butler was announced by his officeboy, 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 as decoratively as ever. The street suit that she wore was of a light goldenbrown

broadcloth, faceted with small, darkred buttons. Her head was decorated with a brownishred shake of a

type she had learned was becoming to her, brimless and with a trailing plume, and her throat was graced by a

threestrand necklace of gold beads. Her hands were smoothly gloved as usual, and her little feet daintily

shod. There was a look of girlish distress in her eyes, which, however, she was trying hard to conceal.

"Honey," she exclaimed, on seeing him, her arms extended"what is the trouble? I wanted so much to ask

you the other night. You're not going to 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 looking quietly into her nervous eyes.

"Oh, you know, I think papa is very angry with you. He suspects. Some one sent him an anonymous letter.

He tried to get it out of me last night, but he didn't succeed. I denied everything. I was in here twice this

morning to see you, but you were out. I was so afraid that he might see you first, and that you might say

"Well, no, not exactly. I didn't think that. I don't know what I thought. Oh, honey, I've been so worried. You

know, I didn't sleep at all. 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 my face, and then he showed me the letter. I was so

"Why, I said: 'What a shame! It isn't so!' But I didn't say it right away. My heart was going like a

triphammer. I'm afraid he must have been able to tell something from my face. I could hardly get my

"He's a shrewd man, your father," he commented. "He knows something about life. Now you see how

difficult these situations are. It's a blessing he decided to show you the letter instead of watching the house. I

suppose he felt too bad to do that. He can't prove anything now. But he knows. You can't deceive him."

"I know you are. So am I. But it can't be helped now. We should have thought 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

She put her hands tightly together on his bosom, and he looked consolingly into her eyes. Her eyelids, were

trembling, and her lips. She was sorry for her father, herself, Cowperwood. Through her he could sense the

force of Butler's parental affection; the volume and danger of his rage. There were so many, many things as

"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 you going to be? I need to have you that way now."

"Yes, honey. I'm at the end of my rope. I don't see any way out just at present. I've sent for my father and my

lawyer. You mustn't stay here, sweet. Your father may come in here at any time. We must meet

"Look out for who's following. If I'm not there by fourthirty, don't wait. 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 Ninethirtyone any more. I'll have to rent another place somewhere else."

"Yes, dear, yes," she declared, slipping her arms under his and pulling him 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 any

difference, dear, between you and me, whatever happens, does it? We will love each other just the same. I'll

do anything for you, honey! I'll do anything you say. You can trust me. They sha'n't know anything from

She looked at his still, pale face, and a sudden strong determination to 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 fiery daring of the

"I love you! I love you! I love you, Frank!" she declared. He unloosed her hands.

"Run, sweet. Tomorrow at four. Don't fail. And don't talk. And don't admit anything, whatever you do."

He barely had time to straighten his tie, to assume a nonchalant attitude by the window, when in hurried

"Mr. Cowperwood! You know that check I gave you last night? Mr. Stener says it's illegal, that I shouldn't

have given it to you, that he will hold 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't get it back. Oh, Mr. Cowperwood, I am

only a young man! I'm just really starting out in life. I've got my wife and little boy to look after. You won'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 and character of these emissaries of

disaster. Surely, when troubles chose to multiply they had great skill in presenting themselves in rapid order.

Stener had no right to make any such statement. The transaction was not illegal. The man had gone wild.

True, he, Cowperwood, had received an order after these securities were bought not to buy or sell any more

city loan, but that did not invalidate previous purchases. Stener was browbeating and frightening his poor

underling, a better man than himself, in order to get back this sixtythousanddollar check. What a petty

creature he was! How true it was, as somebody had remarked, that you could not possibly measure the petty

"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, and the 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 qualified court 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'll help defend

you. I can't give you the check back because I haven't it to give; and if I had, I wouldn't. That would be

allowing a fool to make a fool 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 have only a little property of my ownoutside of my salary!"

"This isn't as bad as you think, Albert. He won't do what he says. He can't. It's unfair and illegal. You can

bring suit and recover your salary. I'll help you in that as much as I'm able. But I can't give you back this

sixtythousanddollar 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 the securities I bought with it. The securities are not here. They're in the sinkingfund, or will be."

He paused, wishing he had not mentioned that fact. It was a slip of the tongue, one of the few he ever made,

due to the peculiar pressure of the situation. Stires pleaded longer. It was no use, Cowperwood told him.

Finally he went away, crestfallen, fearsome, broken. There were tears of suffering in his eyes. Cowperwood

The elder Cowperwood brought a haggard face. He and Frank had had a long conversation the evening

before, lasting until early morning, but it had not been productive of much save uncertainty.

"Hello, father!" exclaimed Cowperwood, cheerfully, noting his father's gloom. He was satisfied that there

was scarcely a coal of hope to be raked out of these ashes of despair, but there was no use admitting it.

"Well, it looks like stormy weather, doesn't it? I've decided to call a meeting of my creditors, father, and ask

for time. There isn't anything else to do. I can't realize enough on anything to make it worth while talking

about. I thought Stener might change his mind, but he's worse rather than better. His head bookkeeper just

"He wanted me to give him back a check for sixty thousand that he paid me for some city loan I bought

yesterday morning." Frank did not explain to his father, however, that he had hypothecated the certificates

this check had paid for, and used the check itself to raise money enough to pay the Girard National Bank and

"Well, I declare!" replied the old man. "You'd think he'd have better sense than that. That's a perfectly

"It's Mollenhauer and Simpson and Butler, I know. They want my streetrailway lines. Well, they won't get

them. They'll get them through a receivership, and after the panic's all over. Our creditors will have first

chance at these. If they buy, they'll buy from them. If it weren't for that fivehundredthousanddollar loan I

wouldn't think a thing of this. My creditors would sustain me nicely. But the moment that gets noised

around!... And this election! I hypothecated those city loan certificates 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 in the

"It's a technical question," replied his son. "I might have been intending to take them up. As a matter of fact, I

will if I can before three. I've been taking eight and ten days to deposit them in the past. In a storm like this

Cowperwood, the father, put his hand over his mouth again. He felt very disturbed about this. He saw no way

out, however. He was at the end of his own resources. He felt the sidewhiskers on his left cheek. He looked

out of the window into the little green court. Possibly it was a technical question, who should say. The

financial relations of the city treasury with other brokers before Frank had been very lax. Every banker knew

that. Perhaps precedent would or should govern in this case. He could not say. Still, it was dangerousnot

straight. If Frank could get them out and deposit them it would be so much better.

"Oh, twenty thousand, all told. If I suspend, though, I'll have to have a little ready cash."

Cowperwood looked quietly at him. There was nothing more to be said to his father. "I'm going to make one

more appeal to Stener after you leave here," be 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 notify the 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 head down.

If Stener had any sense" He paused. "But what's the use talking about a damn fool?"

He turned to the window, thinking of how easy it would have been, if Aileen and he had not been exposed by

this anonymous note, to have arranged all with Butler. Rather than injure the party, Butler, in extremis, would

His father got up to go. He was as stiff with despair as though he were suffering from cold.

Cowperwood suffered intensely for him. What a shame! His father! He felt a 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 started for Stener's office. But Stener had sunk

in on himself like an empty gasbag, and no efforts were sufficient to inflate him. They went out, finally,

"I tell you, Frank," said Steger, "I wouldn't worry. We can tie this thing up legally until election and after, and

that will give all this row a chance to die down. Then you can get your people together and talk sense 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 hypothecated securities as yet. Neither did he

There was one development in connection with all of this of which Cowperwood was as yet unaware. The

same day that brought Edward Butler the anonymous communication in regard to his daughter, brought

almost a duplicate of it to Mrs. Frank Algernon Cowperwood, only in this case the name of Aileen Butler had

Perhaps you don't know that your husband is running with another woman. If you don't believe it, watch the

Mrs. Cowperwood was in the conservatory watering some plants when this letter was brought by her maid

Monday morning. She was most placid in her thoughts, for she did not know what all the conferring of the

night before meant. Frank was occasionally troubled by financial storms, but they did not see to harm him.

In a little while (such was her deliberate way), she put down her sprinklingpot and went into the library.

There it was lying on the green leather sheepskin which constituted a part of the ornamentation of the large

library table. She picked it up, glanced at it curiously because it was on cheap paper, and then opened it. Her

face paled slightly as she read it; and then her hand tremblednot much. Hers was not a soul that ever loved

passionately, hence she could not suffer passionately. She was hurt, disgusted, enraged for the moment, and

frightened; but she was not broken in spirit entirely. Thirteen years of life with Frank Cowperwood had

taught her a number of things. He was selfish, she knew now, selfcentered, and not as much charmed by her

as he had been. The fear she had originally felt as to the effect of her preponderance of years had been to

some extent justified by the lapse of time. Frank did not love her as he hadhe had not for some time; she

had felt it. What was it?she had asked herself at timesalmost, who was it? Business was engrossing him

Finance was his master. Did this mean the end of her regime, she queried. 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 which he

was manipulating for her. Who was this other woman? Was she young, beautiful, of any social position? Was

it? Suddenly she stopped. Was it? Could it be, by any chanceher mouth openedAileen Butler?

She stood still, staring at this letter, for she could scarcely countenance her own thought. She had observed

often, in spite of all their caution, how friendly Aileen had been to him and he to her. He liked her; he never

lost a chance to defend her. Lillian had thought of them at times as being curiously suited to each other

temperamentally. He liked young people. But, of course, he was married, and Aileen was infinitely beneath

him socially, and he had two children and herself. And his social and financial position was so fixed and

stable that he did not dare trifle with it. Still she paused; for forty years and two children, and some slight

wrinkles, and the suspicion that we may be no longer loved as we once were, is apt to make any woman

pause, even in the face of the most significant financial position. Where would she go if she left him? What

would people think? What about the children? Could she prove this liaison? Could she entrap him in a

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 for granted all these years, had thought that he loved her enough not to be

unfaithful to her; at least fancied that he was so engrossed with the more serious things of life that no petty

liaison such as this letter indicated would trouble him or interrupt his great career. Apparently this was not

true. What should she do? What say? How act? Her none too brilliant mind was not of much service in this

The conventional mind is at best a petty piece of machinery. It is oysterlike in its functioning, or, perhaps

better, clamlike. It has its little siphon of thoughtprocesses forced up or down into the mighty ocean of fact

and circumstance; but it uses so little, pumps so faintly, that the immediate contiguity of the vast mass is not

disturbed. Nothing of the subtlety of life is perceived. No least inkling of its storms or terrors is ever

discovered except through accident. When some crude, suggestive fact, such as this letter proved to be,

suddenly manifests itself in the placid flow of events, there is great agony or disturbance and clogging of the

socalled normal processes. The siphon does not work right. It sucks in fear and distress. There is great

grinding of maladjusted partsnot unlike sand in a machineand life, as is so often the case, ceases or goes

Mrs. Cowperwood was possessed of a conventional mind. She really knew nothing about life. And life could

not teach her. Reaction in her from salty thoughtprocesses was not possible. She was not alive in the sense

that Aileen Butler was, and yet she thought that she was very much alive. All illusion. She wasn't. She was

charming if you loved placidity. If you did not, she was not. She was not engaging, brilliant, or forceful.

Frank Cowperwood might well have asked himself in the beginning why he married her. He did not do so

now because he did not believe it was wise to question the past as to one's failures and errors. It was,

according to him, most unwise to regret. He kept his face and thoughts to the future.

But Mrs. Cowperwood was truly distressed in her way, and she went about the house thinking, feeling

wretchedly. She decided, since the letter asked her to see for herself, to wait. She must think how she would

watch this house, if at all. Frank must not know. If it were Aileen Butler by any chancebut surely notshe

thought she would expose her to her parents. Still, that meant exposing herself. She determined to conceal her

mood as best she could at dinnertimebut Cowperwood was not able to be there. He was so rushed, so

closeted with individuals, so closely in conference with his father and others, that she scarcely saw him this

For on Tuesday afternoon at twothirty he issued a call for a meeting of his creditors, and at fivethirty he

decided to go into the hands of a receiver. And yet, as he stood before his principal creditorsa group of

thirty menin his office, he did not feel that his life was ruined. He was temporarily embarrassed. Certainly

things looked very black. The citytreasurership deal would make a great fuss. Those hypothecated city loan

certificates, to the extent of sixty thousand, would make another, if Stener chose. Still, he did not feel that he

"Gentlemen," he said, in closing his address of explanation at the meeting, quite as erect, secure, defiant,

convincing as he had ever been, "you see how things are. These securities are worth just as much as they ever

were. There is nothing the matter with the properties behind them. If you will give me fifteen days or twenty,

I am satisfied that I can straighten the whole matter out. I am almost the only one who can, for I know all

about it. The market is bound to recover. Business is going to be better than ever. It's time I want. Time is the

only significant factor in this situation. I want to know if you won't give me fifteen or twenty daysa month,

He stepped aside and out of the general room, where the blinds were drawn, into his private office, in order to

give his creditors an opportunity to confer privately in regard to his situation. He had friends in the meeting

who were for him. He waited one, two, nearly three hours while they talked. Finally Walter Leigh, Judge

Kitchen, Avery Stone, of Jay Cooke & Co., and several others came in. They were a committee appointed to

"Nothing more can be done today, Frank," Walter Leigh informed him, quietly. "The majority want the

privilege of examining the books. There is some uncertainty about this entanglement with the city treasurer

which you say exists. They feel that you'd better announce a temporary suspension, anyhow; and if they want

"I'm sorry for that, gentlemen," replied Cowperwood, the least bit depressed. "I would rather do anything than

suspend for one hour, if I could help it, for I know just what it means. You will find assets here far exceeding

the liabilities if you will take the stocks at their normal market value; but that won't help any if I close my

"Sorry, Frank, old boy," observed Leigh, pressing his hand affectionately. "If it were left to me personally,

you could have all the time you want. There's a crowd of old fogies out there that won't listen to reason.

They're panicstruck. I guess they're pretty hard hit 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 with them, 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? He was being compelled to suspend.

An expert accountant would have to come in and go over his books. Butler might spread the news of this

citytreasury connection. Stener might complain of this last cityloan transaction. A halfdozen of his

helpful friends stayed with him until four o'clock in the morning; but he had to suspend just the same. And

when he did that, he knew he was seriously crippled if not ultimately defeated in his race for wealth and

When he was really and finally quite alone in his private bedroom he stared at himself in the mirror. His face

was pale and tired, he thought, but strong and effective. "Pshaw!" he said to himself, "I'm not 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 he sank upon his bed, and in a little while,

strange as it may seem, with all the tangle of trouble around him, slept. He could do thatsleep and gurgle

most peacefully, the while his father paced the floor in his room, refusing to be comforted. All was dark

And in her room Lillian Cowperwood turned and tossed in the face of this new calamity. For it had suddenly

appeared from news from her father and Frank and Anna and her motherinlaw that Frank was about to fail,

or would, or hadit was almost impossible to say just how it was. Frank was too busy to explain. The

Chicago fire was to blame. There was no mention as yet of the city treasurership. Frank was caught in a trap,

In this crisis, for the moment, she forgot about the note as to his infidelity, or rather ignored it. She was

astonished, frightened, dumbfounded, confused. Her little, placid, beautiful world was going around in a

dizzy ring. The charming, ornate ship of their fortune was being blown most ruthlessly here and there. She

felt it a sort of duty to stay in bed and try to sleep; but her eyes were quite wide, and her brain hurt her. Hours

before Frank had insisted that she should not bother 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. To stick by her husband, convention

told her; and so she decided. Yes, religion dictated that, also custom. There were the children. They must not

be injured. Frank must be reclaimed, if possible. He would get over this. But what a blow!

The suspension of the banking house of Frank A. Cowperwood & Co. created a great stir on 'change and in

Philadelphia generally. It was so unexpected, and the amount involved was comparatively so large. Actually

he failed for one million two hundred and fifty thousand dollars; and his assets, under the depressed condition

of stock values, barely totaled seven hundred and fifty thousand dollars. There had been considerable work

done on the matter of his balancesheet before it was finally given to the public; but when it was, stocks

dropped an additional three points generally, and the papers the next day devoted notable headlines to it.

Cowperwood had no idea of failing permanently; he merely wished to suspend temporarily, and later, if

possible, to persuade his creditors to allow him to resume. There were only two things which stood in the

way of this: the matter of the five hundred thousand dollars borrowed from the city treasury at a ridiculously

low rate of interest, which showed plainer than words what had been going on, and the other, the matter of

the sixtythousanddollar check. His financial wit had told him there were ways to assign his holdings in

favor of his largest creditors, which would tend to help him later to resume; and he had been swift to act.

Indeed, Harper Steger had drawn up documents which named Jay Cooke & Co., Edward Clark & Co., Drexel

& Co., and others as preferred. He knew that even though dissatisfied holders of smaller shares in his

company brought suit and compelled readjustment or bankruptcy later, the intention shown to prefer some of

his most influential aids was important. They would like it, and might help him later when all this was over.

Besides, suits in plenty are an excellent way of tiding over a crisis of this kind until stocks and common sense

are restored, and he was for many suits. Harper Steger smiled once rather grimly, even in the whirl of the

"Frank," he said, "you're a wonder. You'll have a network of suits spread here shortly, which no one can

"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 this business, to which he had devoted years of active work and thought, was ended.

The thing that was troubling him most in all of this was not the five hundred thousand dollars which was

owing the city treasury, and which he knew would stir political and social life to the center once it was

generally knownthat was a legal or semilegal transaction, at leastbut rather the matter of the sixty

thousand dollars' worth of unrestored city loan certificates which he had not been able to replace in the

sinkingfund and could not now even though the necessary money should fall from heaven. The fact of their

absence was a matter of source. He pondered over the situation a good deal. The thing to do, he thought, if he

went to Mollenhauer or Simpson, or both (he had never met either of them, but in view of Butler's desertion

they were his only recourse), was to say that, although he could not at present return the five hundred

thousand dollars, if no action were taken against him now, which would prevent his resuming his business on

a normal scale a little later, he would pledge his word that every dollar of the involved five hundred thousand

dollars would eventually be returned to the treasury. If they refused, and injury was done him, he proposed to

let them wait until 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 be preventedeven by them. The money was down on his books

as owing the city treasury, and it was down on the city treasury's books as owing from him. Besides, there

was a local organization known as the Citizens' Municipal Reform Association which occasionally conducted

investigations in connection with public affairs. His defalcation would be sure to come to the ears of this

body and a public investigation might well follow. Various private individuals knew of it already. His

This matter of seeing Mollenhauer or Simpson, or both, was important, anyhow, he thought; but before doing

so he decided to talk it all over with Harper Steger. So several days after he had closed his doors, he sent for

Steger and told him all about the transaction, except that he did not make it clear that he had not intended to

Harper Steger was a tall, thin, graceful, rather elegant man, of gentle voice 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, thin

face 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 limit of the word, not aggressively but

indifferently; for he had no faith in anything. He was not poor. He had not even been born poor. He was just

innately subtle, with the rather constructive thought, which was about the only thing that compelled him to

work, that he ought to be richer than he wasmore conspicuous. Cowperwood was an excellent avenue

toward legal prosperity. Besides, he was a fascinating customer. Of all his clients, Steger admired

"Let them proceed against you," he said on this occasion, his brilliant legal mind taking in all the phases of

the situation at once. "I don't see that there is anything more here than a technical charge. If it ever came to

anything like that, which I don't think it will, the charge would 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 that you had received

the check with Stener's knowledge and consent. Then it would only be a technical charge of irresponsibility

on your part, as I see it, and I don't believe any jury would convict you on the evidence of how this

relationship was conducted. Still, it might; you never can tell what a jury is going to do. All this would have

to come out at a trial, however. The whole thing, it seems to me, would depend on which of you

twoyourself or Stenerthe 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 other time"

Cowperwood waved for silence. He knew all about that. "It all depends on what the politicians decide to do.

I'm doubtful. The situation is too complicated. It can't be hushed up." They were in his private office at his

"What would that mean, Harper, legally, if I were tried on a charge of larceny as bailee, as you put it, and

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 to five years at the outside; but the sentences usually average from one to three

"I know all about that," interrupted Cowperwood, irritably. "My case isn't any different from the others, and

you know it. Embezzlement is embezzlement if the politicians want to have it so." He fell to thinking, and

"And would I have to go to jail at any time during the proceedings before a final adjustment of the case by

"Yes, there is one point in all legal procedure of the kind," replied Steger, cautiously, now rubbing his ear and

trying to put the matter as delicately as possible. "You can avoid jail sentences all through the earlier parts of

a case like this; but if you are once tried and convicted it's pretty hard to do anythingas a matter of fact, it

becomes absolutely necessary then to go to jail for a few days, five or so, pending the motion for a new trial

and the obtaining of a certificate of reasonable doubt. It usually takes that long."

The young banker sat there staring out of the window, and Steger observed, "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 things considered. Five days in jail pending the obtaining of a certificate of reasonable doubt,

if one could be obtained! He must avoid this! Jail! The penitentiary! His commercial reputation would never

The necessity of a final conferencee between Butler, Mollenhauer, and Simpson was speedily reached, for

this situation was hourly growing more serious. Rumors were floating about in Third Street that in addition to

having failed for so large an amount as to have further unsettled the already panicky financial situation

induced by the Chicago fire, Cowperwood and Stener, or Stener working with Cowperwood, or the other way

round, had involved the city treasury to the extent of five hundred thousand dollars. And the question was

how was the matter to be kept quiet until after election, which was still three weeks away. Bankers and

brokers were communicating odd rumors to each other about a check that had been taken from the city

treasury after Cowperwood knew he was to fail, and without Stener's consent. Also that there was danger that

it would come to the ears of that very uncomfortable political organization known as the Citizens' Municipal

Reform Association, of which a wellknown ironmanufacturer of great probity and moral rectitude, one

Skelton C. Wheat, was president. Wheat had for years been following on the trail of the dominant Republican

administration in a vain attempt to bring it to a sense of some of its political iniquities. He was a serious and

austere manone of those solemn, selfrighteous souls who see life through a peculiar veil of duty, and

who, undisturbed by notable animal passions of any kind, go their way of upholding the theory of the Ten

The committee in question had originally been organized to protest against some abuses in the tax

department; but since then, from election to election, it had been drifting from one subject to another, finding

an occasional evidence of its worthwhileness in some newspaper comment and the frightened reformation of

some minor political official who ended, usually, by taking refuge behind the skirts of some higher political

powerin the last reaches, Messrs. Butler, Mollenhauer, and Simpson. Just now it was without important

fuel or ammunition; and this assignment of Cowperwood, with its attendant crime, so far as the city treasury

was concerned, threatened, as some politicians and bankers saw it, to give it just the club it was looking for.

However, the decisive conference took place between Cowperwood and the reigning political powers some

five days after Cowperwood's failure, at the home of Senator Simpson, which was located in Rittenhouse

Squarea region central for the older order of wealth in Philadelphia. Simpson was a man of no little

refinement artistically, of Quaker extraction, and of great wealthbreeding judgment which he used largely to

satisfy his craving for political predominance. He was most liberal where money would bring him a powerful

or necessary political adherent. He fairly showered officescommissionerships, trusteeships, judgeships,

political nominations, and executive positions generallyon those who did his bidding faithfully and without

question. Compared with Butler and Mollenhauer he was more powerful than either, for he represented the

State and the nation. When the political authorities who were trying to swing a national election were anxious

to discover what the State of Pennsylvania would do, so far as the Republican party was concerned, it was to

Senator Simpson that they appealed. In the literal sense of the word, he knew. The Senator had long since

graduated from State to national politics, and was an interesting figure in the United States Senate at

Washington, where his voice in all the conservative and moneyed councils of the nation was of great weight.

The house that he occupied, of Venetian design, and four stories in height, bore many architectural marks of

distinction, such as the floriated window, the door with the semipointed arch, and medallions of colored

marble set in the walls. The Senator was a great admirer of Venice. He had been there often, as he had to

Athens and Rome, and had brought back many artistic objects representative of the civilizations and

refinements of older days. He was fond, for one thing, of the stern, sculptured heads of the Roman emperors,

and the fragments of gods and goddesses which are the best testimony of the artistic aspirations of Greece. In

the entresol of this house was one of his finest treasuresa carved and floriated base bearing a tapering

monolith some four feet high, crowned by the head of a peculiarly goatish Pan, by the side of which were the

problematic remains of a lovely nude nymphjust the little feet broken off at the ankles. The base on which

the feet of the nymph and the monolith stood was ornamented with carved oxskulls intertwined with roses.

In his reception hall were replicas of Caligula, Nero, and other Roman emperors; and on his stairwalls

reliefs of dancing nymphs in procession, and priests bearing offerings of sheep and swine to the sacrificial

altars. There was a clock in some corner of the house which chimed the quarter, the half, the threequarters,

and the hour in strange, euphonious, and pathetic notes. On the walls of the rooms were tapestries of Flemish

origin, and in the receptionhall, the library, the livingroom, and the drawingroom, richly carved furniture

after the standards of the Italian Renaissance. The Senator's taste in the matter of paintings was inadequate,

and he mistrusted it; but such as he had were of distinguished origin and authentic. He cared more for his

curiocases filled with smaller imported bronzes, Venetian glass, and Chinese jade. He was not a collector of

these in any notable sensemerely a lover of a few choice examples. Handsome tiger and leopard skin rugs,

the fur of a muskox for his divan, and tanned and brownstained goat and kid skins for his tables, gave a

sense of elegance and reserved profusion. In addition the Senator had a diningroom done after the Jacobean

idea of artistic excellence, and a winecellar which the best of the local vintners looked after with extreme

care. He was a man who loved to entertain lavishly; and when his residence was thrown open for a dinner, a

The conference was in the Senator's library, and he received his colleagues with the genial air of one who has

much to gain and little to lose. There were whiskies, wines, cigars on the table, and while Mollenhauer and

Simpson exchanged the commonplaces of the day awaiting the arrival of Butler, they lighted cigars and kept

It so happened that upon the previous afternoon Butler had learned from Mr. David Pettie, the district

attorney, of the sixtythousanddollarcheck transaction. At the same time the matter had been brought to

Mollenhauer's attention by Stener himself. It was Mollenhauer, not Butler who saw that by taking advantage

of Cowperwood's situation, he might save the local party from blame, and at the same time most likely fleece

Cowperwood out of his streetrailway shares without letting Butler or Simpson know anything about it. The

Butler was not long in arriving, and apologized for the delay. Concealing his recent grief behind as jaunty an

"It's a lively life I'm leadin', what with every bank in the city wantin' to know how their loans are goin' to be

"It does look a little threatening," said Senator Simpson, smiling. "Sit down. 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

connection with this Cowperwood failure is growing very strong, and that the newspapers are bound to take

up the matter shortly, unless something is done about it. I am sure that the news will also reach Mr. Wheat, of

the Citizens' Reform Association, very shortly. We ought to decide now, gentlemen, what we propose to do.

One thing, I am sure, is to eliminate Stener from the ticket as quietly as possible. This really looks to me as if

it might become a very serious issue, and we ought to be doing what we can now to offset its effect later."

Mollenhauer pulled a long breath through his cigar, and blew it out in a rolling steelblue cloud. He studied

"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 a prosecution on our own account within a reasonable time, some one else is apt to; and

that would put rather a bad face on the matter. My own opinion would be that we wait until it is very plain

that prosecution is going to be undertaken by some one elsepossibly the Municipal Reform

Associationbut that we stand ready to step in and act in such a way as 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 be made as

difficult as possible to get at the treasurer's books. An investigation there, if it begins at allas I think is very

The Senator was not at all for mincing words with his important confreres, when it came to vital issues. He

"Now that sounds like very good sense to me," said Butler, sinking a little lower in his chair for comfort's

sake, and concealing his true mood in regard to all this. "The boys could easily make that investigation last

three weeks, I should think. They're slow enough with everything else, if me memory doesn't fail me." At the

same time he was cogitating as to how to inject the personality of Cowperwood and his speedy prosecution

without appearing to be neglecting the general welfare of the local party too much.

"Yes, that isn't a bad idea," said Mollenhauer, solemnly, blowing a ring of smoke, and thinking how to keep

Cowperwood's especial offense from coming up at this conference and until after he had seen him.

"We ought to map out our program very carefully," continued Senator Simpson, "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 within a week,

if not sooner, and we have no time to lose. If my advice were followed now, I should have the mayor write

the treasurer a letter asking 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 beingI think we have

the authority to do thator, at least, take over his principal duties but without for the time being, anyhow,

making any of these transactions publicuntil we have to, of course. We ought to be ready with these letters

"I could have those letters prepared, if you gentlemen have no objection," put in Mollenhauer, quietly, but

"Well, that strikes me as sinsible," said Butler, easily. "It's about the only thing we can do under the

circumstances, unless we could find some one else to blame it on, and I have a suggestion to make in that

There was a slight gleam of triumph in his eye as he said this, at the same time that there was a slight shadow

"Just what do you mean?" asked the Senator, looking at Butler interestedly. He knew nothing of the

sixtythousanddollar check transaction. He had not followed the local treasury dealings very closely, nor

had he talked to either of his confreres since the original conference between them. "There haven't been any

outside parties mixed up with this, have there?" His own shrewd, political mind was working.

"Noo. I wouldn't call him an outside party, exactly, Senator," went on Butler suavely. "It's Cowperwood

himself I'm thinkin' of. There's somethin' that has come up since I saw you gentlemen last that makes me

think that perhaps that young man isn't as innocent as he might be. It looks to me as though he was the

ringleader in this business, as though he had been leadin' Stener on against his will. I've been lookin' into the

matter on me own account, and as far as I can make out this man Stener 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 he didn't give him

more money, and only the other day he got a big sum on false pretinses, which might make him equally

guilty with Stener. There's sixtythousand dollars of city loan certificates that has been paid for that aren't in

the sinkingfund. And since the reputation of the party's in danger this fall, I don't see that we need to have

any particular consideration for him." He paused, strong in the conviction that he had sent a most dangerous

arrow flying in the direction of Cowperwood, as indeed he had. Yet at this moment, both the Senator and

Mollenhauer were not a little surprised, seeing at their last meeting he had appeared rather friendly to the

young banker, and this recent discovery seemed scarcely any occasion for a vicious attitude on his part.

Mollenhauer in particular was surprised, for he had been looking on Butler's friendship for Cowperwood as a

"Umm, 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 own little private plan of browbeating

Cowperwood out of his streetrailway shares going glimmering. "I had a talk with Stener the other day about

this very matter, and he told me that Cowperwood had been trying to force him to give him three hundred

thousand dollars more, and that when he refused Cowperwood managed to get sixty thousand dollars further

"How could he do that?" asked Senator Simpson, incredulously. Mollenhauer explained the transaction.

Oh," said the Senator, when Mollenhauer had finished, "that indicates a rather sharp person, doesn't it? And

"Well, I must say," said Simpson, rather relieved in his manner, "this looks like a rather good thing than not

to me. A scapegoat possibly. We need something like this. I see no reason under the circumstances for trying

to protect Mr. Cowperwood. We might as well try to make a point of that, if we have to. The newspapers

might just as well talk loud about that as anything else. They are bound to talk; and if we give them the right

angle, I think that the election might well come and go before the matter could be reasonably cleared up, even

though Mr. Wheat does interfere. I will be glad to undertake to see what can be done with the papers."

"Well, that bein' the case," said Butler, "I don't see that there's so much more we can do now; but I do think it

will be a mistake if Cowperwood isn't punished with the other one. He's equally guilty with Stener, if not

more so, and I for one want to see him get what he deserves. He belongs in the penitentiary, and that's where

he'll go if I have my say." Both Mollenhauer and Simpson turned a reserved and inquiring eye on their

usually genial associate. What could be the reason for his sudden determination to have Cowperwood

punished? Cowperwood, as Mollenhauer and Simpson saw it, and as Butler would ordinarily have seen it,

was well within his human, if not his strictly legal rights. They did not blame him half as much for trying to

do what he had done as they blamed Stener for letting him do it. But, since Butler felt as he did, and there

was an actual technical crime here, they were perfectly willing that the party should have the advantage of it,

"You may be right," said Senator Simpson, cautiously. "You might have those letters prepared, Henry; and if

we have to bring any action at all against anybody before election, it would, perhaps, be advisable to bring it

against Cowperwood. Include Stener if you have to but not unless you have to. I leave it to you two, as I am

compelled to start for Pittsburg next Friday; but I know you will not overlook any point."

The Senator arose. His time was always valuable. Butler was highly gratified by what he had accomplished.

He had succeeded in putting the triumvirate on record against Cowperwood as the first victim, in case of any

public disturbance or demonstration against the party. All that was now necessary was for that disturbance to

manifest itself; and, from what he could see of local conditions, it was not far off. There was now the matter

of Cowperwood's disgruntled creditors to look into; and if by buying in these he should succeed in preventing

the financier from resuming business, he would have him in a very precarious condition indeed. It was a sad

day for Cowperwood, Butler thoughtthe day he had first tried to lead Aileen astrayand the time was not

In the meantime Cowperwood, from what he could see and hear, was becoming more and more certain that

the politicians would try to make a scapegoat of him, and that shortly. For one thing, Stires had called only a

few days after he closed his doors and imparted a significant bit of information. Albert was still connected

with the city treasury, as was Stener, and engaged with Sengstack and another personal appointee of

Mollenhauer's in going over the treasurer's books and explaining their financial significance. Stires had come

to Cowperwood primarily to get additional advice in regard to the sixtythousanddollar check and his

personal connection with it. Stener, it seemed, was now threatening to have his chief clerk prosecuted, saying

that he was responsible for the loss of the money and that his bondsmen could be held responsible.

Cowperwood had merely laughed and assured Stires that there was nothing to this.

"Albert," he had said, smilingly, "I tell you positively, there's nothing 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. It won't cost

you a cent, and he'll tell you exactly what to do. Now go on back and don't worry any more about it. I am

sorry this move of mine has caused you so much trouble, but it's a hundred to one you couldn't have kept your

place with a new city treasurer, anyhow, and if I see any place where you can possibly fit in later, I'll let you

Another thing that made Cowperwood pause and consider at this time was a letter from Aileen, detailing a

conversation which had taken place at the Butler dinner table one evening when Butler, the elder, was not at

home. She related how her brother Owen in effect had stated that theythe politiciansher father,

Mollenhauer, and Simpson, were going to "get him yet" (meaning Cowperwood), for some criminal financial

manipulation of somethingshe could not explain whata check or something. Aileen was frantic with

worry. Could they mean the penitentiary, she asked in her letter? Her dear lover! Her beloved Frank! Could

His brow clouded, and he set his teeth with rage when he read her letter. He would have to do something

about thissee Mollenhauer or Simpson, or both, and make some offer to the city. He could not promise

them money for the presentonly notesbut they might take them. Surely they could not be intending to

make a scapegoat of him over such a trivial and uncertain matter as this check transaction! When there was

the five hundred thousand advanced by Stener, to say nothing of all the past shady transactions of former city

But Simpson was out of the city for a period of ten days, and Mollenhauer, having in mind the suggestion

made by Butler in regard to utilizing Cowperwood's misdeed for the benefit of the party, had already moved

as they had planned. The letters were ready and waiting. Indeed, since the conference, the smaller politicians,

taking their cue from the overlords, had been industriously spreading the story of the sixtythousanddollar

check, and insisting that the burden of guilt for the treasury defalcation, if any, lay on the banker. The

moment Mollenhauer laid eyes on Cowperwood he realized, however, that he had a powerful personality to

deal with. Cowperwood gave no evidence of fright. He merely stated, in his bland way, that he had been in

the habit of borrowing money from the city treasury at a low rate of interest, and that this panic had involved

"I have heard rumors, Mr. Mollenhauer," he said, "to the effect that some charge is to be brought against me

as a partner with Mr. Stener in this matter; but I am hoping that the city will not do that, and I thought I might

enlist your influence to prevent it. My affairs are not in a bad way at all, if I had a little time to arrange

matters. I am making 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 the city treasury loans, if I could come to terms, I would be glad to

make it a hundred centsonly I would want a little more time. Stocks are bound 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 far already. The

newspapers are likely to start talking at any time, unless they are stopped by those who can control them."

(He looked at Mollenhauer in a complimentary way.) "But if I could be kept out of the general proceedings as

much as possible, my standing would not be injured, and I would have a better chance of getting on my feet.

It would be better for the city, for then I could certainly pay it what I owe it." He smiled his most winsome

and engaging smile. And Mollenhauer seeing him for the first time, was not unimpressed. Indeed he looked at

this young financial David with an interested eye. If he could have seen a way to accept this proposition of

Cowperwood's, so that the money offered would have been eventually payable to him, and if Cowperwood

had had any reasonable prospect of getting on his feet soon, he would have considered carefully what he had

to say. For then Cowperwood could have assigned his recovered property to him. As it was, there was small

likelihood of this situation ever being straightened out. The Citizens' Municipal Reform Association, from all

he could hear, was already on the moveinvestigating, or about to, and once they had set their hands to this,

"The trouble with this situation, Mr. Cowperwood," he said, affably, "is that it has gone so far that it is

practically out of my hands. I really have very little to do with it. I don't suppose, though, really, it is this

matter of the fivehundredthousanddollar loan that is worrying you so much, as it is this other matter of

the sixtythousanddollar check you received the other day. Mr. Stener insists that you secured that illegally,

and he is very much wrought up about it. The mayor and the other city officials know of it now, and they may

Mollenhauer was obviously not frank in his attitudea little bit evasive in his sly reference to his official

tool, the mayor; and Cowperwood saw it. It irritated him greatly, but he was tactful enough to be quite suave

"I did get a check for sixty thousand dollars, that's true," he replied, with apparent frankness, "the day before I

assigned. It was for certificates I had purchased, however, on Mr. Stener's order, and was due me. I needed

the money, and asked for it. I don't see that there is anything illegal in that."

"Not if the transaction was completed in all its details," replied Mollenhauer, blandly. "As I understand it, the

certificates were bought for the sinkingfund, and they are not there. How do you explain that?"

"An oversight, merely," replied Cowperwood, innocently, and quite as blandly as Mollenhauer. "They would

have been there if I had not been compelled to assign so unexpectedly. It was not possible for me to attend to

everything in person. It has not been our custom to deposit them at once. Mr. Stener will tell you that, if you

"You don't say," replied Mollenhauer. "He did not give me that impression. However, they are not there, and

I believe that that makes some difference legally. I have no interest in the matter one way or the other, more

than that of any other good Republican. I don't see exactly what I can do for you. What did you think I could

"I don't believe you can do anything for me, Mr. Mollenhauer," replied Cowperwood, a little tartly, "unless

you are willing to deal quite frankly with me. I am not a beginner in politics in Philadelphia. I know

something about the powers in command. I thought that you could stop any plan to prosecute me in this

matter, and give me time to get on my feet again. I am not any more criminally responsible for that sixty

thousand dollars than I am for the five hundred thousand dollars that I had as loan before itnot as much so.

I did not create this panic. I did not set Chicago on fire. Mr. Stener and his friends have been reaping some

profit out of dealing with me. I certainly was entitled to make some effort to save myself after all these years

of service, and I can't understand why I should not receive some courtesy at the hands of the present city

administration, after I have been so useful to it. I certainly have kept city loan at par; and as for Mr. Stener's

money, he has never wanted for his interest on that, and more than his interest."

"Quite so," replied Mollenhauer, looking Cowperwood in the eye steadily and estimating the force and

accuracy of the man at their real value. "I understand exactly how it has all come about, Mr. Cowperwood.

No doubt Mr. Stener owes you a debt of gratitude, as does the remainder of the city administration. I'm not

saying what the city administration ought or ought not do. All I know is that you find yourself wittingly or

unwittingly in a dangerous situation, and that public sentiment in some quarters is already very strong against

you. I personally have no feeling one way or the other, and if it were not for the situation itself, which looks

to be out of hand, would not be opposed to assisting you in any reasonable way. But how? The Republican

party is in a very bad position, so far as this election is concerned. In a way, however innocently, you have

helped to put it there, Mr, Cowperwood. Mr. Butler, for some reason to which I am not a party, seems deeply

and personally incensed. And Mr. Butler is a great power here" (Cowperwood began to wonder whether

by any chance Butler had indicated the nature of his social offense against himself, but he could not bring

himself to believe 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 to joining. But apart from that I do not know exactly what I can do. I am only one of those who have

At this point, Mollenhauer rather expected Cowperwood to make an offer of his own holdings, but he did not.

Instead he said, "I'm very much obliged to you, Mr. Mollenhauer, for the courtesy of this interview. I believe

you would help me if you could. I shall just have to fight it out the best way I can. Good day."

In the meanwhile, finding that the rumors were growing in volume and that no one appeared to be willing to

take steps to straighten the matter out, Mr. Skelton C. Wheat, President of the Citizens' Municipal Reform

Association, was, at last and that by no means against his will, compelled to call together the committee of

ten estimable Philadelphians of which he was chairman, in a local committeehall on Market Street, and lay

"It strikes me, gentlemen," he announced, "that this is an occasion when this organization can render a signal

service to the city and the people of Philadelphia, and prove the significance and the merit of the title

originally selected for it, by making such a thoroughgoing investigation as will bring to light all the facts in

this case, and then by standing vigorously behind them insist that such nefarious practices as we are informed

were indulged in in this case shall cease. I know it may prove to be a difficult task. The Republican party and

its local and State interests are certain to be against us. Its leaders are unquestionably most anxious to avoid

comment and to have their ticket go through undisturbed, and they will not contemplate with any equanimity

our opening activity in this matter; but if we persevere, great good will surely 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 permanently be

ignored, and which must eventually be fulfilled. I leave this matter to your courteous consideration."

Mr. Wheat sat down, and the body before him immediately took the matter which he proposed under

advisement. It was decided to appoint a subcommittee "to investigate" (to quote the statement eventually

given to the public) "the peculiar rumors now affecting one of the most important and distinguished offices of

our municipal government," and to report at the next meeting, which was set for the following evening at nine

o'clock. The meeting adjourned, and the following night at nine reassembled, four individuals of very shrewd

financial judgment having meantime been about the task assigned them. They drew up a very elaborate

statement, not wholly in accordance with the facts, but as nearly so as could be ascertained in so short a space

"It appears [read the report, after a preamble which explained why the committee had been appointed] that it

has been the custom of city treasurers for years, when loans have been authorized by councils, to place them

in the hands of some favorite broker for sale, the broker accounting to the treasurer for the moneys received

by such sales at short periods, generally the first of each month. In the present case Frank A. Cowperwood

has been acting as such broker for the city treasurer. But even this vicious and unbusinesslike system

appears not to have been adhered to in the case of Mr. Cowperwood. The accident of the Chicago fire, the

consequent depression of stock values, and the subsequent failure of Mr. Frank A. Cowperwood have so

involved matters temporarily that the committee has not been able to ascertain with accuracy that regular

accounts have been rendered; but from the manner in which Mr. Cowperwood has had possession of bonds

(city loan) for hypothecation, etc., it would appear that he has been held to no responsibility in these matters,

and that there have always been under his control several hundred thousand dollars of cash or securities

belonging to the city, which he has manipulated for various purposes; but the details of the results of these

"Some of the operations consisted of hypothecation of large amounts of these loans before the certificates

were issued, the lender seeing that the order for the hypothecated securities was duly made to him on the

books of the treasurer. Such methods appear to have been occurring for a long time, and it being incredible

that the city treasurer could be unaware of the nature of the business, there is indication of a complicity

between him and Mr. Cowperwood to benefit by the use of the city credit, in violation of the law.

"Furthermore, at the very time these hypothecations were being made, and the city paying interest upon such

loans, the money representing them was in the hands of the treasurer's broker and bearing no interest to the

city. The payment of municipal warrants was postponed, and they were being purchased at a discount in large

amounts by Mr. Cowperwood with the very money that should have been in the city treasury. The bona fide

holders of the orders for certificates of loans are now unable to obtain them, and thus the city's credit is

injured to a greater extent than the present defalcation, which amounts to over five hundred thousand dollars.

An accountant is now at work on the treasurer's books, and a few days should make clear the whole modus

operandi. It is hoped that the publicity thus obtained will break up such vicious practices."

There was appended to this report a quotation from the law governing the abuse of a public trust; and the

committee went on to say that, unless some taxpayer chose to initiate proceedings for the prosecution of those

concerned, the committee itself would be called upon to do so, although such action hardly came within the

This report was immediately given to the papers. Though some sort of a public announcement had been

anticipated by Cowperwood and the politicians, this was, nevertheless, a severe blow. Stener was beside

himself with fear. He broke into a cold sweat when he saw the announcement which was conservatively

headed, "Meeting of the Municipal Reform Association." All of the papers were so closely identified with the

political and financial powers of the city that they did not dare to come out openly and say what they thought.

The chief facts had already been in the hands of the various editors and publishers for a week and more, but

word had gone around from Mollenhauer, Simpson, and Butler to use 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 would be smirched.

At once the question was raised as to who was really guilty, the city treasurer or the broker, or both. How

much money had actually been lost? Where had it gone? Who was Frank Algernon Cowperwood, anyway?

Why was he not arrested? How did he come to be identified so closely with the financial administration of the

city? And though the day of what later was termed "yellow journalism" had not arrived, and the local papers

were not given to such vital personal comment as followed later, it was not possible, even bound as they

were, hand and foot, by the local political and social magnates, to avoid comment of some sort. Editorials had

to be written. Some solemn, conservative references to the shame and disgrace which one single individual

could bring to a great city and a noble political party had to be ventured upon.

That desperate scheme to cast the blame on Cowperwood temporarily, which had been concocted by

Mollenhauer, Butler, and Simpson, to get the odium of the crime outside the party lines for the time being,

was now lugged forth and put in operation. It was interesting and strange to note how quickly the

newspapers, and even the Citizens' Municipal Reform Association, adopted the argument that Cowperwood

was largely, if not solely, to blame. Stener had loaned him the money, it is truehad put bond issues in his

hands for sale, it is true, but somehow every one seemed to gain the impression that Cowperwood had

desperately misused the treasurer. The fact that he had taken a sixtythousanddollar check for certificates

which were not in the sinkingfund was hinted at, though until they could actually confirm this for

themselves both the newspapers and the committee were too fearful of the State libel laws to say 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. Jacob Borchardt, on Mr. George W. Stener for an immediate explanation of his conduct,

and the latter's reply, which were at once given to the newspapers and the Citizens' Municipal Reform

Association. These letters were enough to show, so the politicians figured, that the Republican party was

anxious to purge itself of any miscreant within its ranks, and they also helped to pass the time until after

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

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

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

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.

DEAR SIRUnder 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.

And did Mr. Jacob Borchardt write the letters to which his name was attached? He did not. Mr. Abner

Sengstack wrote them in Mr. Mollenhauer's office, and Mr. Mollenhauer's comment when he saw them was

that he thought they would dothat they were very good, in fact. And did Mr. George W. Stener, city

treasurer of Philadelphia, write that very politic reply? He did not. Mr. Stener was in a state of complete

collapse, even crying at one time at home in his bathtub. Mr. Abner Sengstack wrote that also, and had Mr.

Stener sign it. And Mr. Mollenhauer's comment on that, before it was sent, was that he thought it was "all

right." It was a time when all the little rats and mice were scurrying to cover because of the presence of a

great, fieryeyed public cat somewhere in the dark, and only the older and wiser rats were able to act.

Indeed, at this very time and for some days past now, Messrs. Mollenhauer, Butler, and Simpson were, and

had been, considering with Mr. Pettie, the district attorney, just what could be done about Cowperwood, if

anything, and in order to further emphasize the blame in that direction, and just what defense, if any, could be

made for Stener. Butler, of course, was strong for Cowperwood's prosecution. Pettie did not see that any

defense could be made for Stener, since various records of streetcar stocks purchased for him were spread

upon Cowperwood's books; but for Cowperwood "Let me see," he said. They were speculating, first of all,

as to whether it might not be good policy to arrest Cowperwood, and if necessary try him, since his mere

arrest would seem to the general public, at least, positive proof of his greater guilt, to say nothing of the

virtuous indignation of the administration, and in consequence might tend to divert attention from the evil

So finally, on the afternoon of October 26, 1871, Edward Strobik, president of the common council of

Philadelphia, appeared before the mayor, as finally ordered by Mollenhauer, and charged by affidavit that

Frank A. Cowperwood, as broker, employed by the treasurer to sell the bonds of the city, had committed

embezzlement and larceny as bailee. It did not matter that he charged George W. Stener with embezzlement

The contrasting pictures presented by Cowperwood and Stener at this time are well worth a moment's

consideration. Stener's face was grayishwhite, his lips blue. Cowperwood, despite various solemn thoughts

concerning a possible period of incarceration which this hue and cry now suggested, and what that meant to

his parents, his wife and children, his business associates, and his friends, was as calm and collected as one

might assume his great mental resources would permit him to be. During all this whirl of disaster he had

never once lost his head or his courage. That thing conscience, which obsesses and rides some people to

destruction, did not trouble him at all. He had no consciousness of what is currently known as sin. There were

just two faces to the shield of life from the point of view of his peculiar mindstrength and weakness. Right

and wrong? He did not know about those. They were bound up in metaphysical abstrusities about which he

did not care to bother. Good and evil? Those were toys of clerics, by which they made money. And as for

social favor or social ostracism which, on occasion, so quickly followed upon the heels of disaster of any

kind, well, what was social ostracism? Had either he or his parents been of the best society as yet? And since

not, and despite this present mixup, might not the future hold social restoration and position for him? It

might. Morality and immorality? He never considered them. But strength and weaknessoh, yes! If you had

strength you could protect yourself always and be something. If you were weakpass quickly to the rear and

get out of the range of the guns. He was strong, and he knew it, and somehow he always believed in his star.

Somethinghe could not say whatit was the only metaphysics he bothered aboutwas doing something

for him. It had always helped him. It made things come out right at times. It put excellent opportunities in his

way. Why had he been given so fine a mind? Why always favored financially, personally? He had not

deserved itearned it. Accident, perhaps, but somehow the thought that he would always be

protectedthese intuitions, the "hunches" to act which he frequently hadcould not be so easily explained.

Life was a dark, insoluble mystery, but whatever it was, strength and weakness were its two constituents.

Strength would winweakness lose. He must rely on swiftness of thought, accuracy, his judgment, and on

nothing else. He was really a brilliant picture of courage and energymoving about briskly in a jaunty,

dapper way, his mustaches curled, his clothes pressed, his nails manicured, his face cleanshaven and tinted

In the meantime, Cowperwood had gone personally to Skelton C. Wheat and tried to explain his side of the

situation, alleging that he had done no differently from many others before him, but Wheat was dubious. He

did not see how it was that the sixty thousand dollars' worth of certificates were not in the sinkingfund.

Cowperwood's explanation of custom did not avail. Nevertheless, Mr. Wheat saw that others in politics had

been profiting quite as much as Cowperwood in other ways and he advised Cowperwood to turn state's

evidence. This, however, he promptly refused to dohe was no "squealer," and indicated as much to Mr.

Butler, Sr., was delighted (concerned though he was about party success at the polls), for now he had this

villain in the toils and he would have a fine time getting out of this. The incoming district attorney to succeed

David Pettie if the Republican party won would be, as was now planned, an appointee of Butler'sa young

Irishman who had done considerable legal work for himone Dennis Shannon. The other two party leaders

had already promised Butler that. Shannon was a smart, athletic, goodlooking fellow, all of five feet ten

inches in height, sandyhaired, pinkcheeked, blueeyed, considerable of an orator and a fine legal fighter.

He was very proud to be in the old man's favorto be promised a place on the ticket by himand would, he

There was only one fly in the ointment, so far as some of the politicians were concerned, and that was that if

Cowperwood were convicted, Stener must needs be also. There was no escape in so far as any one could see

for the city treasurer. If Cowperwood was guilty of securing by trickery sixty thousand dollars' worth of the

city money, Stener was guilty of securing five hundred thousand dollars. The prison term for this was five

years. He might plead not guilty, and by submitting as evidence that what he did was due to custom save

himself from the odious necessity of pleading guilty; but he would be convicted nevertheless. No jury could

get by the fact in regard to him. In spite of public opinion, when it came to a trial there might be considerable

The practical manner in which the situation was furthered, after Cowperwood and Stener were formally

charged may be quickly noted. Steger, Cowperwood's lawyer, learned privately beforehand that Cowperwood

was to be prosecuted. He arranged at once to have his client appear before any warrant could be served, and

to forestall the newspaper palaver which would follow it if he had to be searched for.

The mayor issued a warrant for Cowperwood's arrest, and, in accordance with Steger's plan, Cowperwood

immediately appeared before Borchardt in company with his lawyer and gave bail in twenty thousand dollars

(W. C. Davison, president of the Girard National Bank, being his surety), for his appearance at the central

police station on the following Saturday for a hearing. Marcus Oldslaw, a lawyer, had been employed by

Strobik as president of the common council, to represent him in prosecuting the case for the city. The mayor

looked at Cowperwood curiously, for he, being comparatively new to the political world of Philadelphia, was

not so familiar with him as others were; and Cowperwood returned the look pleasantly 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 as far as he was concerned, it was a form of procedure which was absolutely

"You know how it is, Mr. Cowperwood," he observed. The latter smiled. "I do, indeed," he said.

Later there followed several more or less perfunctory appearances in a local police court, known as the

Central Court, where when arraigned he pleaded not guilty, and finally his appearance before the November

grand jury, where, owing to the complicated nature of the charge drawn up against him by Pettie, he thought

it wise to appear. He was properly indicted by the latter body (Shannon, the newly elected district attorney,

making a demonstration in force), and his trial ordered for December 5th before a certain Judge Payderson in

Part I of Quarter Sessions, which was the local branch of the State courts dealing with crimes of this

character. His indictment did not occur, however, before the coming and going of the muchmooted fall

election, which resulted, thanks to the clever political manipulations of Mollenhauer and Simpson

(ballotbox stuffing and personal violence at the polls not barred), in another victory, by, however, a greatly

reduced majority. The Citizens' Municipal Reform Association, in spite of a resounding defeat at the polls,

which could not have happened except by fraud, continued to fire courageously away at those whom it

Aileen Butler, during all this time, was following the trend of Cowperwood's outward vicissitudes as heralded

by the newspapers and the local gossip with as much interest and bias and enthusiasm for him as her powerful

physical and affectional nature would permit. She was no great reasoner where affection entered in, but

shrewd enough without it; and, although she saw him often and he told her muchas much as his natural

caution would permitshe yet gathered from the newspapers and private 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 item only,

clipped from the Philadelphia Public Ledger soon after Cowperwood had been publicly accused of

embezzlement, comforted and consoled her. She cut it out and carried it in her bosom; for, somehow, it

seemed to show that her adored Frank was far more sinned against than sinning. It was a part of one of those

very numerous pronunciamientos or reports issued by the Citizens' Municipal Reform Association, and it ran:

"The aspects of the case are graver than have yet been allowed to reach the public. Five hundred thousand

dollars of the deficiency arises not from city bonds sold and not accounted for, but from loans made by the

treasurer to his broker. The committee is also informed, on what it believes to be good authority, that the

loans sold by the broker were accounted for in the monthly settlements at the lowest prices current during the

month, and that the difference between this rate and that actually realized was divided between the treasurer

and the broker, thus making it to the interest of both parties to 'bear' the market at some time during the

month, so as to obtain a low quotation for settlement. Nevertheless, the committee can only regard the

prosecution instituted against the broker, Mr. Cowperwood, as an effort to divert public attention 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 politiciansher father among them as

she gathered after his conversation with herwere trying to put the blame of their own evil deeds on her

Frank. He was not nearly as bad as he was painted. The report said so. She gloated over the words "an effort

to divert public attention from more guilty parties." That was just what her Frank had been telling her in those

happy, private hours when they had been together recently in one place and another, particularly the new

rendezvous in South Sixth Street which he had established, since the old one had to be abandoned. He had

stroked her rich hair, caressed her body, and told her it was all a prearranged political scheme to cast the

blame as much as possible on him and make it as light as possible for Stener and the party generally. He

would come out of it all right, he said, but he cautioned her not to talk. He did not deny his long and

profitable relations with Stener. He told her exactly how it was. She understood, or thought she did. Anyhow,

As for the two Cowperwood households, so recently and pretentiously joined in success, now so gloomily

tied in failure, the life was going out of them. Frank Algernon was that life. He was the courage and force of

his father: the spirit and opportunity of his brothers, the hope of his children, the estate of his wife, the dignity

and significance of the Cowperwood name. All that meant opportunity, force, emolument, dignity, and

happiness to those connected with him, he was. And his marvelous sun was waning apparently to a black

Since the fatal morning, for instance, when Lillian Cowperwood had received that utterly destructive note,

like a cannonball ripping through her domestic affairs, she had been walking like one in a trance. Each day

now for weeks she had been going about her duties placidly enough to all outward seeming, but inwardly she

was running with a troubled tide of thought. She was so utterly unhappy. Her fortieth year had come for her

at a time when life ought naturally to stand fixed and firm on a solid base, and here she was about to be torn

bodily from the domestic soil in which she was growing and blooming, and thrown out indifferently to wither

As for Cowperwood, Senior, his situation at his bank and elsewhere was rapidly nearing a climax. As has

been said, he had had tremendous faith in his son; but he could not help seeing that an error had been

committed, as he thought, and that Frank was suffering greatly for it now. He considered, of course, that

Frank had been entitled to try to save himself as he had; but he so regretted that his son should have put his

foot into the trap of any situation which could stir up discussion of the sort that was now being aroused.

Frank was wonderfully brilliant. He need never have taken up with the city treasurer or the politicians to have

succeeded marvelously. Local streetrailways and speculative politicians were his undoing. The old man

walked the floor all of the days, realizing that his sun was setting, that with Frank's failure he failed, and that

this disgracethese public charges meant his own undoing. His hair had grown very gray in but a few

weeks, his step slow, his face pallid, his eyes sunken. His rather showy sidewhiskers seemed now like flags

or ornaments of a better day that was gone. His only consolation through it all was that Frank had actually got

out of his relationship with the Third National Bank without owing it a single dollar. Still as he knew the

directors of that institution could not possibly tolerate the presence of a man whose son had helped loot the

city treasury, and whose name was now in the public prints in this connection. Besides, Cowperwood, Sr.,

The crisis for him therefore came on the day when Frank was arrested on the embezzlement charge. The old

man, through Frank, who had it from Steger, knew it was coming, still had the courage to go to the bank but

it was like struggling under the weight of a heavy stone to do it. But before going, and after a sleepless night,

he wrote his resignation to Frewen Kasson, the chairman of the board of directors, in order that he should be

prepared to hand it to him, at once. Kasson, a stocky, wellbuilt, magnetic man of fifty, breathed an inward

"I know it's hard, Mr. Cowperwood," he said, sympathetically. "Weand I can speak for the other members

of the boardwe feel keenly the unfortunate nature of your position. We know exactly how it is that your

son has become involved in this matter. He is not the only banker who has been involved in the city's affairs.

By no means. It is an old system. We appreciate, all of us, keenly, the services you have rendered this

institution during the past thirtyfive years. If there were any possible way in which we could help to tide you

over the difficulties at this time, we would be glad to do so, but as a banker yourself you must realize just

how impossible that would be. Everything is in a turmoil. If things were settledif we knew how soon this

would blow over" He paused, for he felt that he could not go on and say that he or the bank was 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 himself together in order to be able to speak

at all. He had gotten out a large white linen handkerchief and blown his nose, and had straightened himself 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 me alone now."

Kasson, very carefully dressed and manicured, arose and walked out of the room for a few moments. He

appreciated keenly the intensity of the strain he had just witnessed. The moment the door was closed

Cowperwood put his head in his hands and shook convulsively. "I never thought I'd come to this," he

muttered. "I never thought it." Then he wiped away his salty hot tears, and went to the window to look out

As time went on Butler grew more and more puzzled and restive as to his duty in regard to his daughter. He

was sure by her furtive manner and her apparent desire to avoid him, that she was still in touch with

Cowperwood in some way, and that this would bring about a social disaster of some kind. He thought once of

going to Mrs. Cowperwood and having her bring pressure to bear on her husband, but afterwards he decided

that that would not do. He was not really positive as yet that Aileen was secretly meeting Cowperwood, and,

besides, Mrs. Cowperwood might not know of her husband's duplicity. He thought also of going to

Cowperwood personally and threatening him, but that would be a severe measure, and again, as in the other

case, he lacked proof. He hesitated to appeal to a detective agency, and he did not care to take the other

members of the family into his confidence. He did go out and scan the neighborhood of 931 North Tenth

Street once, looking at the house; but that helped him little. The place was for rent, Cowperwood having

Finally he hit upon the plan of having Aileen invited to go somewhere some distance offBoston or New

Orleans, where a sister of his wife lived. It was a delicate matter to engineer, and in such matters he was not

exactly the soul of tact; but he undertook it. He wrote personally to his wife's sister at New Orleans, and

asked her if she would, without indicating in any way that she had heard from him, write his wife and ask if

she would not permit Aileen to come and visit her, writing Aileen an invitation at the same time; but he tore

the letter up. A little later he learned accidentally that Mrs. Mollenhauer and her three daughters, Caroline,

Felicia, and Alta, were going to Europe early in December to visit Paris, the Riviera, and Rome; and he

decided to ask Mollenhauer to persuade his wife to invite Norah and Aileen, or Aileen only, to go along,

giving as an excuse that his own wife would not leave him, and that the girls ought to go. It would be a fine

way of disposing of Aileen for the present. The party was to be gone six months. Mollenhauer was glad to do

so, of course. The two families were fairly intimate. Mrs. Mollenhauer was willing delighted from a politic

point of viewand the invitation was extended. Norah was overjoyed. She wanted to see something of

Europe, and had always been hoping for some such opportunity. Aileen was pleased from the point of view

that Mrs. Mollenhauer should invite her. Years before she would have accepted in a flash. But now she felt

that it only came as a puzzling interruption, one more of the minor difficulties that were tending to interrupt

her relations with Cowperwood. She immediately threw cold water on the proposition, which was made one

evening at dinner by Mrs. Butler, who did not know of her husband's share in the matter, but had received a

call that afternoon from Mrs. Mollenhauer, when the invitation had been extended.

"She's very anxious to have you two come along, if your father don't mind," volunteered the mother, "and I

"Oh, fine!" exclaimed Norah. "I've always wanted to go to Paris. Haven't you, Ai? Oh, wouldn't that be fine?"

"I don't know that I want to go," replied Aileen. She did not care to compromise herself by showing any

interest at the start. "It's coming on winter, and I haven't any clothes. I'd rather wait and go some other time."

"Oh, Aileen Butler!" exclaimed Norah. "How you talk! I've heard you say a dozen times you'd like to go

abroad some winter. Now when the chance comesbesides 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

"They wouldn't want a man around as a sort of guide and adviser, would they, mother?" put in Callum.

"I'm sure I don't know," returned Mrs. Butler, smiling, and at the same time chewing a lusty mouthful. "You'll

Aileen still persisted. She did not want to go. It was too sudden. It was this. It was that. Just then old Butler

came in and took his seat at the head of the table. Knowing all about it, he was most anxious to appear not to.

"You wouldn't object, Edward, would you?" queried his wife, explaining the proposition in general.

"Object!" he echoed, with a well simulated but rough attempt at gayety. "A fine thing I'd be doing for

meselfobjectin'. I'd be glad if I could get 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'd be welcome in this townno thanks

"And there's many a place ye wouldn't have been if it hadn't been for me. I'm tellin' ye that," retorted Mrs.

Aileen was adamant. No amount of argument both on the part of Norah and her mother had any effect

whatever. Butler witnessed the failure of his plan with considerable dissatisfaction, but he was not through.

When he was finally convinced that there was no hope of persuading her to accept the Mollenhauer

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 a series of vicissitudes to a high standing in his peculiar and, to many,

distasteful profession; but to any one in need of such in themselves calamitous services, his very famous and

decidedly patriotic connection with the Civil War and Abraham Lincoln was a recommendation. He, or rather

his service, had guarded the latter all his stormy incumbency at the executive mansion. There were offices for

the management of the company's business in Philadelphia, Washington, and New York, to say nothing of

other places. Butler was familiar with the Philadelphia sign, but did not care to go to the office there. He

decided, once his mind was made up on this score, that he would go over to New York, where he was told the

He made the simple excuse one day of business, which was common enough in his case, and journeyed to

New Yorknearly five hours away as the trains ran thenarriving at two o'clock. At the offices on lower

Broadway, he asked to see the manager, whom he found to be a large, grossfeatured, heavybodied man of

fifty, grayeyed, grayhaired, puffily outlined as to countenance, but keen and shrewd, and with short,

fatfingered hands, which drummed idly on his desk as he talked. He was dressed in a suit of darkbrown

wool cloth, which struck Butler as peculiarly showy, and wore a large horseshoe diamond pin. The old man

"How do you do?" said Butler, when a boy ushered him into the presence of this worthy, whose name was

MartinsonGilbert Martinson, of American and Irish extraction. The latter nodded and looked at Butler

shrewdly, recognizing him at once as a man of force and probably of position. He therefore rose and offered

"Sit down," he said, studying the old Irishman from under thick, bushy eyebrows. "What can I do for you?"

"You're the manager, are you?" asked Butler, solemnly, eyeing the man with a shrewd, inquiring eye.

"This Mr. Pinkerton that runs this agencyhe wouldn't be about this place, now, would he?" asked Butler,

carefully. "I'd like to talk to him personally, if I might, meaning no offense to you."

"Mr. Pinkerton is in Chicago at present," replied Mr. Martinson. "I don'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 the responsible head

Butler debated with himself in silence for a few moments, estimating the man before him. "Are you a family

"Yes, sir, I'm married," replied Martinson, solemnly. "I have a wife and two children."

Martinson, from long experience conceived that this must be a matter of family misconducta son,

"I thought I would like to talk to Mr. Pinkerton himself, but if you're the responsible head" Butler paused.

"I am," replied Martinson. "You can talk to me with the same freedom that you could to Mr. Pinkerton. Won't

He led the way into an adjoining room which had two windows looking down into Broadway; an oblong

table, heavy, brown, smoothly polished; four leatherbacked chairs; and some pictures of the Civil War

battles in which the North had been victorious. Butler followed doubtfully. He hated 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 fellys over," as he said in his mind. He would decide then what he wanted to do. He went to one of the

windows and looked down into the street, where there was a perfect swirl of omnibuses and vehicles of all

"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 nameit often "worked" but in this instance the name was not forthcoming. Butler was too

"I'm not so sure that I want to go into this," said the old man solemnly. "Certainly not if there's any risk of the

thing not being handled in the right way. There's somethin' I want to find out aboutsomethin' that I ought

to know; but it's a very private matter with 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.

"Scanlon," interpolated Butler, easily; "that's as good a name as any if you want to use one. I'm keepin' me

"Scanlon," continued Martinson, easily. "I really don't care whether it's your right name or not. I was just

going to say that it might not be necessary to have your right name under any circumstances it all depends

upon what you want to know. But, so far as your private affairs are concerned, they are as safe with us, as if

you had never told them to any one. Our business is built upon confidence, and we never betray it. We

wouldn't dare. We have men and women who have been in our employ for over thirty years, and we never

retire any one except for cause, and we 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 consider that they are. We handle over ten

thousand separate cases in all parts of the United States every year. We work on a case only so long as we are

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 we cannot find out what you want to know, we are the first to say so.

Many cases are rejected right here in this office before we ever begin. Yours might be such a one. We don't

want cases merely for the sake of having them, and we are frank to say so. Some matters that involve public

policy, or some form of small persecution, we don't touch at allwe won't be a party to them. You can see

how that is. You look to me to be a man of the world. I hope I am one. Does it strike you that an organization

like ours would be likely to betray any one's confidence?" He paused and looked at Butler for confirmation of

"It wouldn't seem likely," said the latter; "that's the truth. It's not aisy to bring your private affairs into the

"Well," said Butler, finally, "you look to me to be all right, and I'd like some advice. Mind ye, I'm willing to

pay for it well enough; and it isn't anything that'll be very hard to find out. I want to know whether a certain

man where I live is goin' with a certain woman, and where. You could find that out aisy enough, I

"Nothing easier," replied Martinson. "We are doing it all the time. Let me see if I can help you just a moment,

Mr. Scanlon, in order to make it easier for you. It is very plain to me that you don't care to tell any more than

you can help, and we don't care to have you tell any more than we absolutely need. We will have to have the

name of the city, of course, and the name of either the man or the woman; but not necessarily both of them,

unless you want to help us in that way. Sometimes if you give us the name of one partysay the man, for

illustrationand the description of the womanan accurate oneor a photograph, we can tell you after a

little while exactly what you want to know. Of course, it's always 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 that we will do our best to

"Well, that bein' the case," said Butler, finally taking the leap, with many mental reservations, however, "I'll

be plain with you. My name's not Scanlon. It's Butler. I live in Philadelphy. There's a man there, a banker by

"Wait a moment," said Martinson, drawing an ample pad out of his pocket and producing a leadpencil; "I

"He has a place in Third StreetFrank A. Cowperwoodany one can show you where it is. He's just failed

"Oh, that's the man," interpolated Martinson. "I've heard of him. He's mixed up in some city embezzlement

case over there. I suppose the reason you didn't go to our Philadelphia office is because you didn't want our

"That's the man, and that's the reason," said Butler. "I don't care to have anything of this known in

Philadelphy. That's why I'm here. This man has a house on Girard AvenueNineteenthirtyseven. You can

"Well, it's him that I want to know abouthimand a certain woman, or girl, rather." The old man paused

and winced at this necessity of introducing Aileen into the case. He could scarcely think of ithe was so

fond of her. He had been so proud of Aileen. A dark, smoldering rage burned in his heart against

"A relative of yourspossibly, I suppose," remarked Martinson, tactfully. "You needn't tell me any

morejust give me a description if you wish. We may be able to work from that." He saw quite clearly what

a fine old citizen in his way he was dealing with here, and also that the man was greatly troubled. Butler's

heavy, meditative face showed it. "You can be quite frank with me, Mr. Butler," he added; "I think I

understand. 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, and I wouldn't do anything for the world to harm her. It's tryin' to save her I am.

"I understand how you feel, Mr. Butler," he observed. "I am a father myself. We'll do all we can for you. If

you can give me an accurate description of her, or let one of my men see her at your house or office,

accidentally, of course, I think we can tell you in no time at all if they are meeting with any regularity. That's

"Well, that oughtn't to take any time at all, Mr. Butlerthree or four days possibly, if we have any lucka

week, ten days, two weeks. It depends on how long you want us to shadow him in case there is no evidence

"I want to know, however long it takes," replied Butler, bitterly. "I want to know, if it takes a month or two

months or three to find out. I want to know." The old man got up as he said this, very positive, very rugged.

"And don't send me men that haven't sinse lots of it, plase. I want men that are fathers, if you've got

"I understand, Mr. Butler," Martinson replied. "Depend on it, you'll have the best we have, and you can trust

them. They'll be discreet. You can depend on that. The way I'll do will be to assign just one man to the case at

first, some one you can see for yourself whether you like or not. 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 can get it. What is

"Tomorrow, if you wish. I have a man I could send tonight. He isn't here now or I'd have him talk with

you. I'll talk to him, though, and make everything clear. You needn't worry about anything. Your daughter's

"Thank you kindly," commented Butler, softening the least bit in a gingerly way. "I'm much obliged to you.

"Never mind about that, Mr. Butler," replied Martinson. "You're welcome to anything this concern can do for

He showed Butler to the door, and the old man went out. He was feeling very depressed over thisvery

shabby. To think he should have to put detectives on the track of his Aileen, his daughter!

The very next day there called at Butler's office a long, preternaturally solemn man of noticeable height and

angularity, darkhaired, darkeyed, sallow, with a face that was long and leathery, and particularly

hawklike, who talked with Butler for over an hour and then departed. That evening he came to the Butler

house around dinnertime, and, being shown into Butler's room, was given a look at Aileen by a ruse. Butler

sent for her, standing in the doorway just far enough to one side to yield a good view of her. The detective

stood behind one of the heavy curtains which had already been put up for the winter, pretending to look out

"Did any one drive Sissy this mornin'?" asked Butler of Aileen, inquiring after a favorite family horse.

Butler's plan, in case the detective was seen, was to give the impression that he was a horseman who had

come either to buy or to sell. His name was Jonas Alderson, and be looked sufficiently like a horsetrader to

"Very well, then. Leave her in the stable." Butler quietly closed the door. Aileen concluded at once that it was

a horse conference. She knew he would not dispose of any horse in which she was interested without first

After she was gone Alderson stepped out and declared that he was satisfied. "That's all I need to know," he

He departed, and within thirtysix hours the house and office of Cowperwood, the house of Butler, the office

of Harper Steger, Cowperwood's lawyer, and Cowperwood and Aileen separately and personally were under

complete surveillance. It took six men to do it at first, and eventually a seventh, when the second

meetingplace, which was located in South Sixth Street, was discovered. All the detectives were from New

York. In a week all was known to Alderson. It bad been agreed between him and Butler that if Aileen and

Cowperwood were discovered to have any particular rendezvous Butler was to be notified some time when

she was there, so that he might go immediately and confront her in person, if he wished. He did not intend to

kill Cowperwoodand Alderson would have seen to it that he did not in his presence at least, but he would

give him a good tonguelashing, fell him to the floor, in all likelihood, and march Aileen away. There would

be no more lying on her part as to whether she was or was not going with Cowperwood. She would not be

able to say after that what she would or would not do. Butler would lay down the 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

girlknowing what she knew, or doing what she was doing! She would go to Europe after this, or any place

In working out his plan of action it was necessary for Butler to take Alderson into his confidence and the

"We couldn't allow you to strike any blows or do any violence," Alderson told Butler, when they first talked

about it. "It's against the rules. You can go in there on a searchwarrant, if we have to have one. I can get that

for you without anybody's knowing anything about your connection with the case. We can say it's for a girl

from New York. But you'll have to go in in the presence of my men. They won't permit any trouble. You can

get your daughter all rightwe'll bring her away, and him, too, if you say so; but you'll have to make some

charge against him, if we do. Then there's the danger of the neighbors seeing. You can't always guarantee you

won't collect a crowd that way." Butler had many misgivings about the matter. It was fraught with great

danger of publicity. Still he wanted to know. He wanted to terrify Aileen if he couldto reform her

Within a week Alderson learned that Aileen and Cowperwood were visiting an apparently private residence,

which was anything but that. The house on South Sixth Street was one of assignation purely; but in its way it

was superior to the average establishment of its kindof red brick, whitestone trimmings, four stories high,

and all the rooms, some eighteen in number, furnished in a showy but cleanly way. It's patronage was highly

exclusive, only those being admitted who were known to the mistress, having been introduced by others. This

guaranteed that privacy which the illicit affairs of this world so greatly required. The mere phrase, "I have an

appointment," was sufficient, where either of the parties was known, to cause them to be shown to a private

suite. Cowperwood had known of the place from previous experiences, and when it became necessary to

The matter of entering a place of this kind and trying to find any one was, as Alderson informed Butler on

hearing of its character, exceedingly difficult. It involved the right of search, which was difficult to get. To

enter by sheer force was easy enough in most instances where the business conducted was in

contradistinction to the moral sentiment of the community; but sometimes one encountered violent opposition

from the tenants themselves. It might be so in this case. The only sure way of avoiding such opposition would

be to take the woman who ran the place into one's confidence, and by paying her sufficiently insure silence.

"But I do not advise that in this instance," Alderson had told Butler, "for I believe this woman is particularly

friendly to your man. It might be better, in spite of the risk, to take it by surprise." To do that, he explained, it

would be necessary to have at least three men in addition to the leaderperhaps four, who, once one man

had been able to make his entrance into the hallway, on the door being opened in response to a ring, would

appear quickly and enter with and sustain him. Quickness of search was the next thing the prompt opening

of all doors. The servants, if any, would have to be overpowered and silenced in some way. Money

sometimes did this; force accomplished it at other times. Then one of the detectives simulating a servant

could tap gently at the different doorsButler and the others standing byand in case a face appeared

identify it or not, as the case might be. If the door was not opened and the room was not empty, it could

eventually be forced. The house was one of a solid block, so that there was no chance of escape save by the

front and rear doors, which were to be safeguarded. It was a daringly conceived scheme. In spite of all this,

When Butler heard of this he was nervous about the whole terrible procedure. He thought once that without

going to the house he would merely talk to his daughter declaring that he knew and that she could not

possibly deny it. He would then give her her choice between going to Europe or going to a reformatory. But a

sense of the raw brutality of Aileen's disposition, and something essentially coarse in himself, made him

eventually adopt the other method. He ordered Alderson to perfect his plan, and once he found Aileen or

Cowperwood entering the house to inform him quickly. He would then drive there, and with the assistance of

It was a foolish scheme, a brutalizing thing to do, both from the point of view of affection and any corrective

theory he might have had. No good ever springs from violence. But Butler did not see that. He wanted to

frighten Aileen, to bring her by shock to a realization of the enormity of the offense she was committing. He

waited fully a week after his word had been given; and then, one afternoon, when his nerves were worn

almost thin from fretting, the climax came. Cowperwood had already been indicted, and was now awaiting

trial. Aileen had been bringing him news, from time to time, of just how she thought her father was feeling

toward him. She did not get this evidence direct from Butler, of coursehe was too secretive, in so far as she

was concerned, to let her know how relentlessly he was engineering Cowperwood's final downfall but

from odd bits confided to Owen, who confided them to Callum, who in turn, innocently enough, confided

them to Aileen. For one thing, she had learned in this way of the new district attorney electhis probable

attitudefor he was a constant caller at the Butler house or office. Owen had told Callum that he thought

Shannon was going to do his best to send Cowperwood "up"that the old man thought he deserved it.

In the next place she had learned that her father did not want Cowperwood to resume businessdid not feel

he deserved to be allowed to. "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 of Cowperwood's legal struggles; and Owen had

asked Callum why he thought the old man was so bitter. The two sons could not understand it. Cowperwood

heard all this from her, and morebits about Judge Payderson, the judge who was to try him, who was a

friend of Butler'salso about the fact that Stener might be sent up for the full term of his crime, but that be

Apparently Cowperwood was not very much frightened. He told her that he had powerful financial friends

who would appeal to the governor to pardon him in case he was convicted; and, anyhow, that he did not think

that the evidence was strong enough to convict him. He was merely a political scapegoat through public

clamor and her father's influence; since the latter's receipt of the letter about them he had been the victim of

Butler's enmity, and nothing more. "If it weren't for your father, honey," he declared, "I could have this

indictment quashed in no time. Neither Mollenhauer nor Simpson has anything against me personally, I am

sure. They want me to get out of the streetrailway business here in Philadelphia, and, of course, they wanted

to make things look better for Stener at first; but depend upon it, if your father hadn't been against me they

wouldn't have gone to any such length in making me the victim. Your father has this fellow Shannon and

these minor politicians just where he wants them, too. That's where the trouble lies. They have to go on."

"Oh, I know," replied Aileen. "It's me, just me, that's all. If it 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 know what I ought to do. If

I thought it would help you any I'd not see you any 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't care what people think or say. I

"Oh, you just think you do," he replied, jestingly. "You'll get over it. There are others."

"Others!" echoed Aileen, resentfully and contemptuously. "After you there aren't any others. I just want one

"Don't talk like that, Aileen," he replied, almost irritated. "I don't like to hear you. You wouldn't do anything

of the sort. I love you. You know I'm not going to desert you. It would pay you to desert me just now."

"Oh, how you talk!" she exclaimed. "Desert you! It's likely, isn't it? But if ever you desert me, I'll do just

"I swear it. I swear by my love. I swear by your successmy own happiness. I'll do just what I say. I'll go to

Cowperwood got up. He was a little afraid now of this deepseated passion he had aroused. It was dangerous.

It was a cheerless afternoon in November, when Alderson, duly informed of the presence of Aileen and

Cowperwood in the South Sixth Street house by the detective on guard drove rapidly up to Butler's office and

invited him to come with him. Yet even now Butler could scarcely believe that 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 to

Cowperwood? His large hands shook as he thought. They drove rapidly to within a few doors of the place,

where a second detective on guard across the street approached. Butler and Alderson descended from the

vehicle, and together they approached the door. It was now almost fourthirty in the afternoon. In a room

within the house, Cowperwood, his coat and vest off, was listening to Aileen's account of her troubles.

The room in which they were sitting at the time was typical of the rather commonplace idea of luxury which

then prevailed. Most of the "sets" of furniture put on the market for general sale by the furniture companies

were, when they approached in any way the correct idea of luxury, imitations of one of the Louis periods.

The curtains were always heavy, frequently brocaded, and not infrequently red. The carpets were richly

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 constructed bed of

walnut, with washstand, bureau, and wardrobe to match. A large, square mirror in a gold frame was hung

over the washstand. Some poor engravings of landscapes and several nude figures were hung in gold frames

on the wall. The giltframed chairs were upholstered in pinkandwhiteflowered brocade, with polished

brass tacks. The carpet was of thick Brussels, pale cream and pink in hue, with large blue jardinieres

containing flowers woven in as ornaments. The general effect was light, rich, and a little stuffy.

"You know I get desperately frightened, sometimes," said Aileen. "Father might be watching us, you know.

I've often wondered what I'd do if he caught us. I couldn't lie out of this, could I?"

"You certainly couldn't," said Cowperwood, who never failed to respond to the incitement of her charms. She

had such lovely smooth arms, a full, luxuriously tapering throat and neck; her goldenred hair floated like an

aureole about her head, and her large eyes sparkled. The wondrous vigor of a full womanhood was

herserrant, illbalanced, romantic, but exquisite, "but you might as well not cross that bridge until you

come to it," he continued. "I myself have been thinking that we had better not go on with this for the present.

"You're such a pretty minx," he said. He slipped his arm about her and kissed her pretty mouth. "Nothing

While this was enacting, Butler and the extra detective had stepped out of 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 in control. "I'd like to see her."

"Just come in," said the maid, unsuspectingly, and indicated a receptionroom on the right. Alderson took off

his soft, widebrimmed hat and entered. When the maid went upstairs he immediately returned to the door

and let in Butler and two detectives. The four stepped into the receptionroom unseen. In a few moments the

"madam" as the current word characterized this type of woman, appeared. She was tall, fair, rugged, and not

at all unpleasant to look upon. She had lightblue eyes and a genial smile. Long contact with the police and

the brutalities of sex in her early life had made her wary, a little afraid of how the world would use her. This

particular method of making a living being illicit, and she having no other practical knowledge at her

command, she was as anxious to get along peacefully with the police and the public generally as any

struggling tradesman in any walk of life might have been. She had on a loose, blueflowered peignoir, or

dressinggown, open at the front, tied with blue ribbons and showing a little of her expensive underwear

beneath. A large opal ring graced her left middle finger, and turquoises of vivid blue were pendent from her

ears. She wore yellow silk slippers with bronze buckles; and altogether her appearance was not out of

keeping with the character of the receptionroom itself, which was a composite of goldflowered

wallpaper, blue and creamcolored Brussels carpet, heavily goldframed engravings of reclining nudes, and

a giltframed pierglass, which rose from the floor to the ceiling. Needless to say, Butler was shocked to the

soul of him by this suggestive atmosphere which was supposed to include his daughter in its destructive

Alderson motioned one of his detectives to get behind the woman between her and the doorwhich he

"Sorry to trouble you, Mrs. Davis," he said, "but we are looking for a couple who are in your house here.

We're after a runaway girl. We don't want to make any disturbancemerely to get her and take her away."

Mrs. Davis paled and opened her mouth. "Now don't make any noise or try to scream, 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

Mrs. Davis, fortunately from one point of view, was not of a particularly nervous nor yet contentious type.

She was more or less philosophic. She was not in touch with the police here in Philadelphia, hence subject to

exposure. What good would it do to cry out? she thought. The place was surrounded. There was no one in the

house at the time to save Cowperwood and Aileen. She did not know Cowperwood by his name, nor Aileen

"Isn't there a girl here with red hair?" asked one of Alderson's assistants. "And a man with a gray suit and a

lightbrown mustache? They came 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're the ones you want. I'll ask them to

come down if you wish. Oh, I wish you wouldn't make any disturbance. This is terrible."

"We'll not make any disturbance," replied Alderson, "if you don't. Just you be quiet. We merely want to see

the girl and take her away. Now, you stay where you are. What room are they in?"

"In the second one in the rear upstairs. Won't you let me go, though? It will be so much better. I'll just tap

"No. We'll tend to that. You stay where you are. You're not going to get into any trouble. You just stay where

He motioned to Butler, who, however, now that he had embarked on his grim task, was thinking that he had

made a mistake. What good would it do him to force his way in and make her come out, unless he intended to

kill Cowperwood? If she were made to come down here, that would be enough. She would then know that he

knew all. He did not care to quarrel with Cowperwood, in any public way, he now decided. He was afraid to.

"Let her go," he said grimly, doggedly referring to Mrs. Davis, "But watch her. Tell the girl to come

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 close at

his heels. Reaching the door of the room occupied by Cowperwood and Aileen, she tapped lightly. At the

time Aileen and Cowperwood were sitting in a big armchair. At the first knock Aileen blanched and leaped

to her feet. Usually not nervous, today, for some reason, she anticipated trouble. Cowperwood's eyes

He started, but Aileen interfered. "Wait," she said. Somewhat reassured, she went to the closet, and taking

down a dressinggown, slipped it on. Meanwhile the tap came again. Then she went to the door and opened it

"Mrs. Montague," exclaimed Mrs. Davis, in an obviously nervous, forced voice, "there's a gentleman

"A gentleman to see me!" exclaimed Aileen, astonished and paling. "Are you 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

Aileen realized on the instant, as did Cowperwood, what had in all likelihood happened. Butler or Mrs.

Cowperwood had trailed them in all probability her father. He wondered now what he should do to protect

her, not himself. He was in no way deeply concerned for himself, even here. Where any woman was

concerned he was too chivalrous to permit fear. 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 to that 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 of thisnow, don't worry. This is my affair. I got you in it and I'll get you 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 clothes swiftly and nervously. Her mind was

working like a rapidly moving machine. She was wondering whether this really could be her father. Perhaps

it was not. Might there be some other Mrs. Montaguea real one? Supposing it was her fatherhe had been

so nice to her in not telling the family, in keeping her secret thus far. He loved hershe knew that. It makes

all the difference in the world in a child's attitude on an occasion like this whether she has been loved and

petted and spoiled, or the reverse. Aileen had been loved and petted and spoiled. She could not think of her

father doing anything terrible physically to her or to any one else. But it was so hard to confront himto

look into his eyes. When she had attained a proper memory of him, her fluttering wits told her what to do.

"No, Frank," she whispered, excitedly; "if it's father, you'd better let me go. I know how to talk to him. He

won't say anything to me. You stay here. I'm not afraidreally, 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 looking solemnly 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 you or 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's no use trying to explain this. Say nothing at all."

He had on his coat and overcoat, and was standing with his hat in his hand. Aileen was nearly dressed,

struggling with the row of red currentcolored buttons which fastened her dress in the back. Cowperwood

"No; please, Frank," she begged, courageously. "Let me, I know it's father. Who else could it be?" She

wondered at the moment whether her father had brought her two brothers but would not now believe it. He

would 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 do anything to me. If you go it will only make him angry. Let me go. You stand in

She put her two pretty hands on his shoulders, and he weighed the matter very carefully. "Very well," he said,

They went to the door and he opened it. Outside were Alderson with two other detectives and Mrs. Davis,

"There's a gentleman downstairs wishes to see the lady," said Alderson. "It's her father, I think," he added

Cowperwood made way for Aileen, who swept by, furious at the presence of men and this exposure. Her

courage had entirely returned. She was angry now to think her father would make a public spectacle of her.

"I'd advise you not to go down there right away," cautioned Alderson, sagely. "That's her father. Butler's her

Butler's reply he could not hear, but he was now at ease for he knew how much 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 shaggy brows revealed such a weight of weariness and despair as even she, in her

"I never expected to find you in a place like this, daughter," he said. "I should have thought you would have

"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 with me

"That's just it, father," began Aileen. "You've had men watching me. I should have thought" She stopped,

"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 this place yet. He's not! You'll come home with me now."

The old man led the way brokenheartedly. He felt he would never live to forget the agony of this hour.

In spite of Butler's rage and his determination to do many things to the financier, if he could, he was so

wrought up and shocked by the attitude of Aileen that he could scarcely believe he was the same man he had

been twentyfour hours before. She was so nonchalant, so defiant. He had expected to see her wilt

completely when confronted with her guilt. Instead, he found, to his despair, after they were once safely out

of the house, that he had aroused a fighting quality in the girl which was not incomparable to his own. She

had some of his own and Owen's grit. She sat beside him in the little runaboutnot his ownin which he

was driving her home, her face coloring and blanching by turns, as different waves of thought swept over her,

determined to stand her ground now that her father had so plainly trapped her, to declare for Cowperwood

and her love and her position in general. What did she care, she asked herself, what her father thought now?

She was in this thing. She loved Cowperwood; she was permanently disgraced in her father's eyes. What

difference could it all make now? He had fallen so low in his parental feeling as to spy on her and expose her

before other menstrangers, detectives, Cowperwood. What real affection could she have for him after this?

He had made a mistake, according to her. He had done a foolish and a contemptible thing, which was not

warranted however bad her actions might have been. What could he hope to accomplish by rushing in on her

in this way and ripping the veil from her very soul before these other menthese crude detectives? Oh, the

agony of that walk from the bedroom to the receptionroom! She would never forgive her father for

thisnever, never, never! He had now killed her love for himthat was what she felt. It was to be a battle

royal between them from now on. As they rodein complete silence for a whileher hands clasped and

It is an open question whether raw opposition ever accomplishes anything of value in this world. It seems so

inherent in this mortal scheme of things that it appears to have a vast validity. It is more than likely that we

owe this spectacle called life to it, and that this can be demonstrated scientifically; but when that is said and

done, what is the value? What is the value of the spectacle? And what the value of a scene such as this

The old man saw nothing for it, as they rode on, save a grim contest between them which could end in what?

What could he do with her? They were riding away fresh from this awful catastrophe, and she was not saying

a word! She had even asked him why he had come there! How was he to subdue her, when the very act of

trapping her had failed to do so? His ruse, while so successful materially, had failed so utterly spiritually.

They reached the house, and Aileen got out. The old man, too nonplussed to wish to go further at this time,

drove back to his office. He then went out and walkeda peculiar thing for him to do; he had done nothing

like that in years and yearswalking to think. Coming to an open Catholic church, he went in and prayed for

enlightenment, the growing dusk of the interior, the single everlasting lamp before the repository of the

chalice, and the high, white altar set with candles soothing his troubled feelings.

He came out of the church after a time and returned home. Aileen did not appear at dinner, and he could not

eat. He went into his private room and shut the doorthinking, thinking, thinking. The dreadful spectacle of

Aileen in a house of ill repute burned in his brain. To think that Cowperwood should have taken her to such a

placehis Aileen, his and his wife's pet. In spite of his prayers, his uncertainty, her opposition, the puzzling

nature of the situation, she must be got out of this. She must go away for a while, give the man up, and then

the law should run its course with him. In all likelihood Cowperwood would go to the penitentiary if ever a

man richly deserved to go, it was he. Butler would see that no stone was left unturned. He would make it a

personal issue, if necessary. All he had to do was to let it be known in judicial circles that he wanted it so. He

could not suborn a jury, that would be criminal; but he could see that the case was properly and forcefully

presented; and if Cowperwood were convicted, Heaven help him. The appeal of his financial friends would

not save him. The judges of the lower and superior courts knew on which side their bread was buttered. They

would strain a point in favor of the highest political opinion of the day, and he certainly could influence that.

Aileen meanwhile was contemplating the peculiar nature of her situation. In spite of their silence on the way

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 would revive the European trip in some formshe now suspected the invitation

of Mrs. Mollenhauer as a trick; and she had to decide whether she would go. Would she leave Cowperwood

just when he was about to be tried? She was determined she would not. She wanted to see what was going to

happen to him. She would leave home firstrun to some relative, some friend, some stranger, if necessary,

and ask to be taken in. She had some moneya little. Her father had always been very liberal with her. She

could take a few clothes and disappear. They would be glad enough to send for her after she had been gone

awhile. Her mother would be frantic; Norah and Callum and Owen would be beside themselves with wonder

and worry; her fathershe could see him. Maybe that would bring him to his senses. In spite of all her

emotional vagaries, she was the pride and interest of this home, and she knew it.

It was in this direction that her mind was running when her father, a few days after the dreadful exposure in

the Sixth Street house, sent for her to come to him in his room. He had come home from his office very early

in the afternoon, hoping to find Aileen there, in order that he might 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 daysshe was too

expectant of trouble to come. She had just written Cowperwood asking for a rendezvous out on the

Wissahickon the following afternoon, in spite of the detectives. She must see him. Her father, she said, had

done nothing; but she was sure he would attempt to do something. She wanted to talk to Cowperwood about

"I've been thinkin' about ye, Aileen, and what ought to be done in this case," began her father without

preliminaries of any kind once they were in his "office room" in the house together. "You're on the road to

ruin if any one ever was. I tremble when I think of your immortal soul. I want to do somethin' for ye, my

child, before it's too late. I've been reproachin' myself for the last month and more, thinkin', perhaps, it was

somethin' I had done, or maybe had failed to do, aither me or your mother, that has brought ye to the place

where ye are today. Needless to say, it's on me conscience, me child. It's a heartbroken man you're lookin' at

this day. I'll never be able to hold me head up again. Oh, the shamethe shame! That I should have lived to

"But father," protested Aileen, who was a little distraught at the thought of having to listen to a long

preachment which would relate to her 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 Cowperwood and his point of view had given her

another outlook on life. They had discussed this matter of familiesparents, children, husbands, wives,

brothers, sisters from almost every point of view. Cowperwood's laissezfaire attitude had permeated and

colored her mind completely. She saw things through his cold, direct "I satisfy myself" attitude. He was sorry

for all the little differences of personality that sprang up between people, causing quarrels, bickerings,

oppositions, and separation; but they could not be helped. People outgrew each other. Their points of view

altered at varying ratioshence changes. Moralsthose who had them had them; those who hadn't, hadn't.

There was no explaining. As for him, he saw nothing wrong in the sex relationship. Between those who were

mutually compatible it was innocent and delicious. Aileen in his arms, unmarried, but loved by him, and he

by her, was as good and pure as any living womana great deal purer than most. One found oneself in a

given social order, theory, or scheme of things. For purposes of social success, in order not to offend, to

smooth one's path, make things easy, avoid useless criticism, and the like, it was necessary to create an

outward seemingostensibly conform. Beyond that it was not necessary to do anything. Never fail, never

get caught. If you did, fight your way out silently and say nothing. That was 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 were

caught. It was something of all this that was coloring Aileen's mood as she listened at present.

"But father," she protested, "I love Mr. Cowperwood. It's almost the same as if I were married to him. He will

marry me some day when he gets a divorce from Mrs. Cowperwood. You don't understand how it is. He's

Butler looked at her with strange, nonunderstanding eyes. "Divorce, did you say," he began, thinking of the

Catholic Church and its dogma in regard to that. "He'll divorce his own wife and children and for you, will

he? He needs you, does he?" he added, sarcastically. "What about his wife and children? I don't suppose they

Aileen flung her head back defiantly. "It's true, nevertheless," she reiterated. "You just don't understand."

Butler could scarcely believe his ears. He had never heard such talk before in his life from any one. It amazed

and shocked him. He was quite aware of all the subtleties of politics and business, but these of romance were

too much for him. He knew nothing about them. To think a daughter of his should be talking like this, and

she a Catholic! He could not understand where she got such notions unless it was from the Machiavellian,

"How long have ye had these notions, my child?" he suddenly asked, calmly and soberly. "Where did ye get

them? Ye certainly never heard anything like that in this house, I warrant. Ye talk as though ye had gone out

"Oh, don't talk nonsense, father," flared Aileen, angrily, thinking how hopeless it was to talk to her father

about such things anyhow. "I'm not a child any more. I'm twentyfour years of age. You just don't

understand. Mr. Cowperwood doesn't like his wife. He's going to get a divorce when he can, and will marry

"Is it, though?" asked Butler, grimly determined by hook or by crook, to bring this girl to her senses. "Ye'll be

takin' no thought of his wife 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 convict stripes, I supposemore, maybe." (The old man was at his

best, humanly speaking, 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't doand

all on account of me. Oh, I know. But you won't hurt him. You can't! He's bigger and finer than you think he

is and you won't hurt him in the long run. He'll get out again. You want to punish him on my account; but he

doesn't care. I'll marry him anyhow. I love him, and I'll wait for him and marry him, and you can do what you

"Ye'll marry him, will you?" asked Butler, nonplussed and further astounded. "So ye'll wait for him and

marry him? Ye'll take him away from his wife and children, where, if he were half a man, he'd be stayin' this

minute instead of gallivantin' around with you. And marry him? Ye'd disgrace your father and yer mother and

yer family? Ye'll stand here and say this to me, I that have raised ye, cared for ye, and made somethin' of ye?

Where would you be if it weren't for me and your poor, hardworkin' mother, schemin' and plannin' for you

year in and year out? Ye're smarter than I am, I suppose. Ye know more about the world 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 me

not bein' able to understand, and ye lovin' a convicttobe, a robber, an embezzler, a bankrupt, a lyin',

"Father!" exclaimed Aileen, determinedly. "I'll not listen to you talking that way. He's not any of the things

that you say. I'll not stay here." She moved toward the door; but Butler jumped up now and stopped her. His

"But I'm not through with him yet," he went on, ignoring her desire to leave, and addressing her

directconfident now that she was as capable as 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 whether he'll come sneakin' into dacent

He paused after a time for want of breath and Aileen stared, her face tense and white. Her father could be so

ridiculous. He was, contrasted with Cowperwood and his views, so oldfashioned. To think he could be

talking of some one coming into their home and stealing her away from him, when she had been so willing to

go. What silliness! And yet, why argue? What good could be accomplished, arguing with him here in this

way? And so for the moment, she said nothing moremerely looked. But Butler was by no means done. His

"It's too bad, daughter," he resumed quietly, once he was satisfied that she was going to have little, if

anything, to say. "I'm lettin' my anger get the best of me. It wasn't that I intended talkin' to ye about when I

ast ye to come in. It's somethin' else I have on me mind. I was thinkin', perhaps, ye'd like to go to Europe for

the time bein' to study music. 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 nice time over there. Norah could go along with ye, if you

would, and Sister Constantia that taught you. Ye wouldn't object to havin' her, I suppose?"

At the mention of this idea of a trip of Europe again, with Sister Constantia and music thrown in to give it a

slightly new form, Aileen bridled, and yet halfsmiled to herself now. It was so ridiculousso tactless,

really, for her father to bring up this now, and especially after denouncing Cowperwood and her, and

threatening all the things he had. Had he no diplomacy at all where she was concerned? It was really too

funny! But she restrained herself here again, because she felt as well as saw, that argument of this kind was

"I wish you wouldn't talk about that, father," she began, having softened under his explanation. "I don't want

to go to Europe now. I don't want to leave Philadelphia. I know you want me to go; but I don't want to think

Butler's brow darkened again. What was the use of all this opposition on her part? Did she really imagine that

she was going to master himher father, 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 expect to stay here after" He paused, for he was going to say "what has happened."

He knew she was very sensitive on that point. His own conduct in hunting her down had been such a breach

of fatherly courtesy that he knew she felt resentful, and in a way properly so. Still, what could be greater than

her own crime? "After," he concluded, "ye have made such a mistake ye surely wouldn't want to stay here.

Ye won't be wantin' to keep up thatcommittin' a mortal sin. It's against the laws of God and man."

He did so hope the thought of sin would come to Aileenthe enormity of her crime from a spiritual point of

"You don't understand me, father," she exclaimed, hopelessly toward the end. "You can't. I have one idea,

and you have another. But I don't seem to be able to make you understand now. The fact is, if you want to

The moment Aileen had said this she wished she had not. It was a slip of the tongue. Butler's face took on an

"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 has ruined ye, body and soul. Somethin' must be done. I don't want to be hard on

ye, but ye must leave Philadelphy. Ye can't stay here. I can't permit ye. Ye can go to Europe, or ye can go to

yer aunt's in New Orleans; but ye must go somewhere. I can't have ye stayin' hereit's too dangerous. It's

sure to be comin' out. The papers'll be havin' it next. 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 me duty to be hard. It's my

obligation to you and the Church. Ye must quit this life. Ye must lave this man. Ye must never see him any

more. I can't permit ye. He's no good. He has no intintion of marrying ye, and it 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 be the 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 his soul. "Ye must go away. I say it once and for all. I mane it kindly,

but I want it. I have yer best interests at heart. I love ye; but ye must. I'm sorry to see ye goI'd rather have

ye here. No one will be sorrier; but ye must. Ye must make it all seem natcheral and ordinary to yer mother;

He paused, looking sadly but firmly at Aileen under his shaggy eyebrows. She knew he meant this. It was his

most solemn, his most religious expression. But she did not answer. She could not. What was the use? Only

"Now get all the clothes ye want," went on Butler, by no means grasping her true mood. "Fix yourself up in

"But I won't, father," finally replied Aileen, equally solemnly, equally determinedly. "I won't go! I won't

"Ye don't mane to say ye will deliberately disobey me when I'm asking ye to do somethin' that's intended for

"Yes, I will," replied Aileen, determinedly. "I won't go! I'm sorry, but I won't!"

"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 to wreck and ruin for want of doin' what I know to be my solemn duty. I'll give ye a

few more days to think this over, but go ye must. There's an end of that. There are laws in this land still.

There are things that can be done to those who won't obey the law. I found ye this timemuch as it hurt me

to do it. I'll find ye again if ye try to disobey me. Ye must change yer ways. I can't have ye goin' on as ye are.

Ye understand now. It's the last word. Give this man up, and ye can have anything ye choose. Ye're my

girlI'll do everything I can in this world to make ye happy. Why, why shouldn't I? What else have I to live

for but me children? It's ye and the rest of them that I've been workin' and plannin' for all these years. Come

now, be a good girl. Ye love your old father, don't ye? Why, I rocked ye in my arms as a baby, Aileen. I've

watched over ye when ye were not bigger than what would rest in me two fists here. I've been a good father

to ye ye can't deny that. Look at the other girls you've seen. Have any of them had more nor what ye have

had? Ye won't go against me in this. I'm sure ye won't. Ye can't. Ye love me too muchsurely ye dodon't

He paused and put a big, brown, horny hand on Aileen's arm. She had listened to his plea not

unmovedreally more or less softened because of the hopelessness of it. She could not give up

Cowperwood. Her father just did not understand. He did not know what love was. Unquestionably he had

"I'd like to, father," she said at last and softly, tenderly. "Really I would. I do love you. Yes, I do. I want to

please you; but I can't in thisI can't! I love Frank Cowperwood. You don't understandreally you don't!"

At the repetition of Cowperwood's name Butler's mouth hardened. He could see that she was infatuatedthat

"Very well, then," he said at last and sadly, oh, so sadly, as Aileen turned away. "Have it yer own way, if ye

will. Ye must go, though, willynilly. 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 sat down. "Such a situation!" he said to

The situation which confronted Aileen was really a trying one. A girl of less innate courage and

determination would have weakened and yielded. For in spite of her various social connections and

acquaintances, the people to whom Aileen could run in an emergency of the present kind were not numerous.

She could scarcely think of any one who would be likely to take her in for any lengthy period, without

question. There were a number of young women of her own age, married and unmarried, who were very

friendly to her, but there were few with whom she was really intimate. The only person who stood out in her

mind, as having any real possibility of refuge for a period, was a certain Mary Calligan, better known as

"Mamie" among her friends, who had attended school with Aileen in former years and was now a teacher in

The Calligan family consisted of Mrs. Katharine Calligan, the mother, a dressmaker by profession and a

widowher husband, a housemover by trade, having been killed by a falling wall some ten years

beforeand Mamie, her twentythreeyearold daughter. They lived in a small twostory brick house in

Cherry Street, near Fifteenth. Mrs. Calligan was not a very good dressmaker, not good enough, at least, for

the Butler family to patronize in their present exalted state. Aileen went there occasionally for gingham

housedresses, underwear, pretty dressinggowns, and alterations on some of her more important clothing

which was made by a very superior modiste in Chestnut Street. She visited the house largely because she had

gone to school with Mamie at St. Agatha's, when the outlook of the Calligan family was much more

promising. Mamie was earning forty dollars a month as the teacher of a sixthgrade room in one of the

nearby public schools, and Mrs. Calligan averaged on the whole about two dollars a daysometimes not so

much. The house they occupied was their own, free and clear, and the furniture which it contained suggested

the size of their joint income, which was somewhere near eighty dollars a month.

Mamie Calligan was not goodlooking, not nearly as goodlooking as her mother had been before her. Mrs.

Calligan was still plump, bright, and cheerful at fifty, with a fund of good humor. Mamie was somewhat

duller mentally and emotionally. She was seriousminded made so, perhaps, as much 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 ingrowing virtue which shuts so many

people off from the worlda sense of duty. To Mamie Calligan duty (a routine conformity to such theories

and precepts as she had heard and worked by since her childhood) was the allimportant thing, her principal

source of comfort and relief; her props in a queer and uncertain world being her duty to her Church; her duty

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 dutiful and more charming physically, so that the men would like her.

In spite of the fact that her mother was a dressmaker, Mamie's clothes never looked smart or attractiveshe

would have felt out of keeping with herself if they had. Her shoes were rather large, and illfitting; her skirt

hung in lifeless lines from her hips to her feet, of good material but seemingly bad design. At that time the

colored "jersey," socalled, was just coming into popular wear, and, being closefitting, looked well on those

of good form. Alas for Mamie Calligan! The mode of the time compelled her to wear one; but she had neither

the arms nor the chest development which made this garment admirable. Her hat, by choice, was usually a

pancake affair with a long, single feather, which somehow never seemed to be in exactly the right position,

either to her hair or her face. At most times she looked a little weary; but she was not physically weary so

much as she was bored. Her life held so little of real charm; and Aileen Butler was unquestionably the most

Mamie's mother's very pleasant social disposition, the fact that they had a very cleanly, if poor little home,

that she could entertain them by playing on their piano, and that Mrs. Calligan took an adoring interest in the

work she did for her, made up the sum and substance of the attraction of the Calligan home for Aileen. She

went there occasionally as a relief from other things, and because Mamie Calligan had a compatible and very

understanding interest in literature. Curiously, the books Aileen liked she likedJane Eyre, Kenelm

Chillingly, Tricotrin, and A Bow of Orange Ribbon. Mamie occasionally recommended to Aileen some latest

effusion of this character; and Aileen, finding her judgment good, was constrained to admire her.

In this crisis it was to the home of the Calligans that Aileen turned in thought. If her father really was not nice

to her, and she had to leave home for a time, she could go to the Calligans. They would receive her and say

nothing. They were not sufficiently well known to the other members of the Butler family to have the latter

suspect that she had gone there. She might readily disappear into the privacy of Cherry Street and not be seen

or heard of for weeks. It is an interesting fact to contemplate that the Calligans, like the various members of

the Butler family, never suspected Aileen of the least tendency toward a wayward existence. Hence her flight

from her own family, if it ever came, would be laid more to the door of a temperamental pettishness than

On the other hand, in so far as the Butler family as a unit was concerned, it needed Aileen more than she

needed it. It needed the light of her countenance to keep it appropriately cheerful, and if she went away there

Butler, senior, for instance, had seen his little daughter grow into radiantly beautiful womanhood. He had

seen her go to school and convent and learn to play the pianoto him a great accomplishment. Also he had

seen her manner change and become very showy and her knowledge of life broaden, apparently, and become

to him, at least, impressive. Her smart, dogmatic views about most things were, to him, at least, well worth

listening to. She knew more about books and art than Owen or Callum, and her sense of social manners was

perfect. When she came to the table breakfast, luncheon, or dinnershe was to him always a charming

object to see. He had produced Aileenhe congratulated himself. He had furnished her the money to be so

fine. He would continue to do so. No secondrate upstart of a man should be allowed to ruin her life. He

proposed to take care of her alwaysto leave her so much money in a legally involved way that a failure of a

husband could not possibly affect her. "You're the charming lady this evenin', I'm thinkin'," was one of his pet

remarks; and also, "My, but we're that fine!" At table almost invariably she sat beside him and looked out for

him. That was what he wanted. He had put her there beside him at his meals years before when she was a

Her mother, too, was inordinately fond of her, and Callum and Owen appropriately brotherly. So Aileen had

thus far at least paid back with beauty and interest quite as much as she received, and all the family felt it to

be so. When she was away for a day or two the house seemed glumthe meals less appetizing. When she

Aileen understood this clearly enough in a way. Now, when it came to thinking of leaving and shifting for

herself, in order to avoid a trip which she did not care to be forced into, her courage was based largely on this

keen sense of her own significance to the family. She thought over what her father had said, and decided she

must act at once. She dressed for the street the next morning, after her father had gone, and decided to step in

at the Calligans' about noon, when Mamie would be at home for luncheon. Then she would take up the matter

casually. If they had no objection, she would go there. She sometimes wondered why Cowperwood did not

suggest, in his great stress, that they leave for some parts unknown; but she also felt that he must know best

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 to proceed in connection with the errand which had brought her, she went to

"Sure, it's lovely the way you play, Aileen," observed Mrs. Calligan who was unduly sentimental herself. "I

love to hear you. I wish you'd come oftener to see us. You're so rarely here nowadays."

"Oh, I've been so busy, Mrs. Calligan," replied Aileen. "I've had so much 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 swept off with a

movement of sad, romantic significance. The door opened and Mamie came in. Her commonplace face

"Well, Aileen Butler!" she exclaimed. "Where did you come from? Where have you been keeping yourself so

Aileen rose to exchange kisses. "Oh, I've been very busy, Mamie. I've just been telling your mother. How are

Mamie recounted at once some school difficulties which were puzzling herthe growing size of classes and

the amount of work expected. While Mrs. Calligan was setting the table Mamie went to her room and Aileen

As she stood before her mirror arranging her hair Aileen looked at her meditatively.

"What's the matter with you, Aileen, today?" Mamie asked. "You look so" She stopped to give her a

"Well, as if you were uncertain or troubled about something. I never saw you look that way before. What's

"Oh, nothing," replied Aileen. "I was just thinking." She went to one of the windows which looked into the

little yard, meditating on whether she could endure living here for any length of time. The house was so

"There is something the matter with you today, Aileen," observed Mamie, coming over to her and looking

"I've got something on my mind," replied Aileen"something that's worrying me. I don't know just what to

"Well, whatever can it be?" commented Mamie. "I never saw you act this way before. Can't you tell me?

"No, I don't think I cannot now, anyhow." Aileen paused. "Do you suppose your mother would object,"

she asked, suddenly, "if I came here and stayed a little while? I want to get away from home for a time for a

"Why, Aileen Butler, how you talk!" exclaimed her friend. "Object! You know she'd be delighted, and so

"That's just what I can't tell younot now, anyhow. Not you, so much, but your mother. You know, I'm

afraid of what she'd think," replied Aileen. "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, or shall I?"

"Why, I will," said Mamie, struck with wonder at this remarkable development; "but it's silly to do it. I know

what she'll say before I tell her, and so do you. You can just bring your things and come. That's all. She'd

never say anything or ask anything, either, and you know thatif you didn't want her to." Mamie was all

Aileen looked at her solemnly, and understood well enough why she was so enthusiasticboth she and her

mother. Both wanted her presence to brighten their world. "But neither of you must tell anybody that I'm

here, do you hear? I don't want any one to know particularly no one of my family. I've a reason, and a

good one, but I can't tell you what it isnot now, anyhow. You'll promise not to tell any one."

"Oh, of course," replied Mamie eagerly. "But you're not going to run away for good, are you, Aileen?" she

"Oh, I don't know; I don't know what I'll do yet. I only know that I want to get away for a while, just

"Well, of all things," replied her friend. "Wonders never cease, do they, Aileen? But it will be so lovely to

have you here. Mama will be so 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 schoolteacher's spirits rose to a decided height.

Aileen hesitated because even now she was not positive whether she should do this, but finally they went

down the stairs together, Aileen lingering behind a little as they neared the bottom. Mamie burst in upon her

mother with: "Oh, mama, isn't it lovely? Aileen's coming to stay with us for a while. She doesn't want any

one to know, and she's coming right away." Mrs. Calligan, who was holding a sugarbowl in her hand, turned

to survey her with a surprised but smiling face. She was immediately curious as to why Aileen should want to

comewhy leave home. On the other hand, her feeling for Aileen was so deep that she was greatly and

joyously intrigued by the idea. And why not? Was not the celebrated Edward Butler's daughter a woman

grown, capable of regulating her own affairs, and welcome, of course, as the honored member of so important

a family. It was very flattering to the Calligans to think that she would want to come under any

"I don't see how your parents can let you go, Aileen; but you're certainly 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 idea of 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 of her presence

"The very idea, Aileen Butler!" exclaimed Mamie. "You'll do nothing of the sort. You'll come here and live

"No, I won't! If I can't pay I won't come," replied Aileen. "You'll have to let me do that." She knew that the

"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 me some clean napkins, Mamie." Aileen remained for luncheon, and left soon

afterward to keep her suggested appointment with Cowperwood, feeling satisfied that her main problem had

been solved. Now her way was clear. She could come here if she wanted to. It was simply a matter of

collecting a few necessary things or coming without bringing anything. Perhaps Frank would have something

In the meantime Cowperwood made no effort to communicate with Aileen since the unfortunate discovery of

their meeting place, but had awaited a letter from her, which was not long in coming. And, as usual, it was a

long, optimistic, affectionate, and defiant screed in which she related all that had occurred to her and her

Aileen in the bosom of her family, smart and wellcared for, was one thing. Aileen out in the world

dependent on him was another. He had never imagined that she would be compelled to leave before he was

prepared to take her; and if she did now, it might stir up complications which would be anything but pleasant

to contemplate. Still he was fond of her, very, and would do anything to make her happy. He could support

her in a very respectable way even now, if he did not eventually go to prison, and even there he might

manage to make some shift for her. It would be so much better, though, if he could persuade her to remain at

home until he knew exactly what his fate was to be. He never doubted but that some day, whatever happened,

within a reasonable length of time, he would be rid of all these complications and welltodo again, in which

case, if he could get a divorce, he wanted to marry Aileen. If not, he would take her with him anyhow, and

from this point of view it might be just as well as if she broke away from her family now. But from the point

of view of present complicationsthe search Butler would makeit might be dangerous. He might even

publicly charge him with abduction. He therefore decided to persuade Aileen to stay at home, drop meetings

and communications for the time being, and even go abroad. He would be all right until she came back and so

With all this in mind he set out to keep the appointment she suggested in her letter, nevertheless feeling it a

"Are you sure," he asked, after he had listened to her description of the Calligan homestead, "that you would

"Very well," he concluded. "You know what you're doing. I don't want to advise you against your will. If I

were you, though, I'd take your father's advice and go away for a while. He'll get over this then, and I'll still

The moment Cowperwood said this Aileen's brow clouded. Her love for him was so great that there was

something like a knife thrust in the merest hint at an extended separation. Her Frank here and in troubleon

trial maybe and she away! Never! What could he mean by suggesting such a thing? Could it be that he didn't

care for her as much as she did for him? Did he really love her? she asked herself. Was he going to desert her

just when she was going to do the thing which would bring them nearer together? Her eyes clouded, for she

"Why, how you talk!" she exclaimed. "You know I won't leave Philadelphia now. You certainly don't expect

Cowperwood saw it all very clearly. He was too shrewd not to. He was immensely fond of her. Good heaven,

"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 order to be with me; so now you do it. Don't think any more about me or

anything I've said. I was merely thinking that it might make matters worse for both of us; but I don't believe it

will. You think your father loves you so much that after you're gone he'll change his mind. Very good; go.

But we must be very careful, sweetyou and Ireally we must. This thing is getting serious. If you should

go and your father should charge me with abductiontake the public into his confidence and tell all about

this, it would be serious for both of usas much for you as for me, for I'd be convicted sure then, just on that

account, if nothing else. And then what? You'd better not try to see me often for the presentnot any oftener

than we can possibly help. If we had used common sense and stopped when your father got that letter, this

wouldn't have happened. But now that it has happened, we must be as wise as we can, don't you see? So,

think it over, and do what you think best and then write me and whatever you do will be all right with

medo you hear?" He drew her to him and kissed her. "You haven't any money, have you?" he concluded

Aileen, deeply moved by all he had just said, was none the less convinced once she had meditated on it a

moment, that her course was best. Her father loved her too much. He would not do anything to hurt her

publicly and so he would not attack Cowperwood through her openly. More than likely, as she now explained

to Frank, he would plead with her to come back. And he, listening, was compelled to yield. Why argue? She

He went down in his pocket for the first time since he had known Aileen and produced a layer of bills.

"Here's two hundred dollars, sweet," he said, "until I see or hear from you. I'll see that you have whatever you

need; and now don't think that I don't love you. You know I do. I'm crazy about you."

Aileen protested that she did not need so muchthat she did not really need anyshe had some at home;

"Don't talk, honey," he said. "I know what you need." She had been so used to receiving money from her

father and mother in comfortable amounts from time to time that she thought nothing of it. Frank loved her so

much that it made everything right between them. She softened in her mood and they discussed the matter of

letters, reaching the conclusion that a private messenger would be safest. When finally they parted, 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, and went away smiling. She had her Frank to fall back onshe would teach her father.

Cowperwood shook his head, following her with his eyes. She represented an additional burden, but give her

up, he certainly could not. Tear the veil from this illusion of affection and make her feel so wretched when he

cared for her so much? No. There was really nothing for him to do but what he had done. After all, he

reflected, it might not work out so badly. Any detective work that Butler might choose to do would prove that

she had not run to him. If at any moment it became necessary to bring common sense into play to save the

situation from a deadly climax, he could have the Butlers secretly informed as to Aileen's whereabouts. That

would show he had little to do with it, and they could try to persuade Aileen to come home again. Good

might resultone could not tell. He would deal with the evils as they arose. He drove quickly back to his

office, and Aileen returned to her home determined to put her plan into action. Her father had given her some

little time in which to decidepossibly he would give her longerbut she 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. It

was about five o'clock now. She would wait until all the members of the family were comfortably seated at

On arriving home, however, she was greeted by an unexpected reason for suspending action. This was the

presence of a certain Mr. and Mrs. Steinmetzthe former a wellknown engineer who drew the plans for

many of the works which Butler undertook. It was the day before Thanksgiving, and they were eager to have

Aileen and Norah accompany them for a fortnight's stay at their new home in West Chestera structure

concerning the charm of which Aileen had heard much. They were exceedingly agreeable people

comparatively young and surrounded by a coterie of interesting friends. Aileen decided to delay her flight and

go. Her father was most cordial. The presence and invitation of the Steinmetzes was as much a relief to him

as it was to Aileen. West Chester being forty miles from Philadelphia, it was unlikely that Aileen would

She wrote Cowperwood of the changed condition and departed, and he breathed a sigh of relief, fancying at

In the meanwhile the day of Cowperwood's trial was drawing near. He was under the impression that an

attempt was going to be made to convict him whether the facts warranted it or not. He did not see any way

out of his dilemma, however, unless it was to abandon everything and leave Philadelphia for good, which was

impossible. The only way to guard his future and retain his financial friends was to stand trial as quickly as

possible, and trust them to assist him to his feet in the future in case he failed. He discussed the possibilities

of an unfair trial with Steger, who did not seem to think that there was so much to that. In the first place, a

jury could not easily be suborned by any one. In the next place, most judges were honest, in spite of their

political cleavage, and would go no further than party bias would lead them in their rulings and opinions,

which was, in the main, not so far. The particular judge who was to sit in this case, one Wilbur Payderson, of

the Court of Quarter Sessions, was a strict party nominee, and as such beholden to Mollenhauer, Simpson,

"What I can't understand," said Steger, "is why these fellows should be so anxious to punish you, unless it is

for the effect on the State at large. The election's over. I understand there's a movement on now to get Stener

out in case he is convicted, which he will be. They have to try him. He won't go up for more than a year, or

two or three, and if he does he'll be pardoned out in half the time or less. It would be the same in your case, if

you were convicted. They couldn't keep you in and let him out. But it will never get that fartake my word

for it. We'll win before a jury, or we'll reverse the judgment of conviction before the State Supreme Court,

certain. Those five judges up there are not going to sustain any such poppycock idea as this."

Steger actually believed what he said, and Cowperwood was pleased. Thus far 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 a

serious matter, and one of which Steger was totally unaware. Cowperwood could never quite forget that in

The actual beginning of the trial found almost all of the inhabitants of this city of six hundred thousand

"keyed up." None of the women of Cowperwood's family were coming into court. He had insisted that there

should be no family demonstration for the newspapers to comment upon. His father was coming, for he might

be needed as a witness. Aileen had written him the afternoon before saying she had returned from West

Chester and wishing him luck. She was so anxious to know what was to become of him that she could not

stay away any longer and had returnednot to go to the courtroom, for he did not want her to do that, but to

be as near as possible when his fate was decided, adversely or otherwise. She wanted to run and congratulate

him if he won, or to console with him if he lost. She felt that her return would be likely to precipitate a

The position of Mrs. Cowperwood was most anomalous. She had to go through the formality of seeming

affectionate and tender, even when she knew that Frank did not want her to be. He felt instinctively now that

she knew of Aileen. He was merely awaiting the proper hour in which to spread the whole matter before her.

She put her arms around him at the door on the fateful morning, in the somewhat formal manner into which

they had dropped these later years, and for a moment, even though she was keenly aware of his difficulties,

she could not kiss him. He did not want to kiss her, but he did not show it. She did kiss him, though, and

"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 car line, where he bearded a car. He

was thinking of Aileen and how keenly she 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 he didn'tif he didn'tthis day

He stepped off the car at Third and Market and hurried to his office. Steger was already there. "Well,

The Court of Quarter Sessions, Part I, where this trial was to take place, was held in famous Independence

Hall, at Sixth and Chestnut Streets, which was at this time, as it had been for all of a century before, the

center of local executive and judicial life. It was a low twostory building of red brick, with a white wooden

central tower of old Dutch and English derivation, compounded of the square, the circle, and the octagon. The

total structure consisted of a central portion and two Tshaped wings lying to the right and left, whose small,

ovaltopped oldfashioned windows and doors were set with those manypaned sashes so much 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 city treasurer, the chambers of council, and all the other

important and executive offices of the city, together with the four branches of Quarter Sessions, which sat to

hear the growing docket of criminal cases. The mammoth city hall which was subsequently completed at

An attempt had been made to improve the reasonably large courtrooms by putting in them raised platforms of

dark walnut surmounted by large, dark walnut desks, behind which the judges sat; but the attempt was not

very successful. The desks, juryboxes, and railings generally were made too large, and so the general effect

was one of disproportion. A creamcolored wall had been thought the appropriate thing to go with black

walnut furniture, but time and dust had made the combination dreary. There were no pictures or ornaments of

any kind, save the stalky, overelaborated gasbrackets which stood on his honor's desk, and the single

swinging chandelier suspended from the center of the ceiling. Fat bailiffs and court officers, concerned only

in holding their workless jobs, did not add anything to the spirit of the scene. Two of them in the particular

court in which this trial was held contended hourly as to which should hand the judge a glass of water. One

preceded his honor like a fat, stuffy, dusty majordomo to and from his dressingroom. His business was to

call loudly, when the latter entered, "His honor the Court, hats off. Everybody please rise," while a second

bailiff, standing at the left of his honor when he was seated, and between the jurybox and the witnesschair,

recited in an absolutely unintelligible way that beautiful and dignified statement of collective society's

obligation to the constituent units, which begins, "Hear ye! hear ye! hear ye!" and ends, "All those of you

having just cause for complaint draw near and ye shall be heard." However, you would have thought it was of

no import here. Custom and indifference had allowed it to sink to a mumble. A third bailiff guarded the door

of the juryroom; and in addition to these there were present a court clerksmall, pale, candlewaxy, with

colorless milkandwater eyes, and thin, porkfatcolored hair and beard, who looked for all the world like

an Americanized and decidedly decrepit Chinese mandarinand a court stenographer.

Judge Wilbur Payderson, a lean herring of a man, who had sat in this case originally as the examining judge

when Cowperwood had been indicted by 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 so meager and thinblooded that he was

arresting for those qualities alone. Technically, he was learned in the law; actually, so far as life was

concerned, absolutely unconscious of that subtle chemistry of things that transcends all written law and

makes for the spirit and, beyond that, the inutility of all law, as all wise judges know. You could have looked

at his lean, pedantic body, his frizzled gray hair, his fishy, bluegray eyes, without any depth of speculation

in them, and his nicely modeled but unimportant face, and told him that he was without imagination; but he

would not have believed youwould have fined you for contempt of court. By the careful garnering of all

his little opportunities, the furbishing up of every meager advantage; by listening slavishly to the voice of

party, and following as nearly as he could the behests of intrenched property, he had reached his present state.

It was not very far along, at that. His salary was only six thousand dollars a year. His little fame did not

extend beyond the meager realm of local lawyers and judges. But the sight of his name quoted daily as being

about his duties, or rendering such and such a decision, was a great satisfaction to him. He thought it made

him a significant figure in the world. "Behold I am not as other men," he often thought, and this comforted

him. He was very much flattered when a prominent case came to his calendar; and as he sat enthroned before

the various litigants and lawyers he felt, as a rule, very significant indeed. Now and then some subtlety of life

would confuse his really limited intellect; but in all such cases there was the letter of the law. He could hunt

in the reports to find out what really thinking men had decided. Besides, lawyers everywhere are so subtle.

They put the rules of law, favorable or unfavorable, under the judge's thumb and nose. "Your honor, in the

thirtysecond volume of the Revised Reports of Massachusetts, page so and 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 reasoning that is

left to do in most cases is not much. And the sanctity of the law is raised like a great banner by which the

Payderson, as Steger had indicated, could scarcely be pointed to as an unjust judge. He was a party

judgeRepublican in principle, or rather belief, beholden to the dominant party councils for his personal

continuance in office, and as such willing and anxious to do whatever he considered that he reasonably could

do to further the party welfare and the private interests of his masters. Most people never trouble to look into

the mechanics of the thing they call their conscience too closely. Where they do, too often they lack the skill

to disentangle the tangled threads of ethics and morals. Whatever the opinion of the time is, whatever the

weight of great interests dictates, that they conscientiously believe. Some one has since invented the phrase "a

Payderson was one. He fairly revered property and power. To him Butler and Mollenhauer and Simpson were

great menreasonably sure to be right always because they were so powerful. This matter of Cowperwood's

and Stener's defalcation he had long heard of. He knew by associating with one political light and another just

what the situation was. The party, as the leaders saw it, had been put in a very bad position by Cowperwood's

subtlety. He had led Stener astraymore than an ordinary city treasurer should have been led astrayand,

although Stener was primarily guilty as the original mover in the scheme, Cowperwood was more so for

having led him imaginatively to such disastrous lengths. Besides, the party needed a scapegoatthat was

enough for Payderson, in the first place. Of course, after the election had been won, and it appeared that the

party had not suffered so much, he did not understand quite why it was that Cowperwood was still so

carefully included in the Proceedings; but he had faith to believe that the leaders had some just grounds for

not letting him off. From one source and another he learned that Butler had some private grudge against

Cowperwood. What it was no one seemed to know exactly. The general impression was that Cowperwood

had led Butler into some unwholesome financial transactions. Anyhow, it was generally understood that for

the good of the party, and in order to teach a wholesome lesson to dangerous subordinatesit had been

decided to allow these several indictments to take their course. Cowperwood was to be punished quite as

severely as Stener for the moral effect on the community. Stener was to be sentenced the maximum sentence

for his crime in 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 could ease things up for him if he chose, and if the leaders wished. In

the silly mind of the general public the various judges of Quarter Sessions, like girls incarcerated in

boardingschools, were supposed in their serene aloofness from life not to know what was going on in the

subterranean realm of politics; but they knew well enough, and, knowing particularly well from whence came

When Cowperwood came into the crowded courtroom with his father and Steger, quite fresh and jaunty

(looking the part of the shrewd financier, the man of affairs), every one stared. It was really too much to

expect, most of them thought, that a man like this would be convicted. He was, no doubt, guilty; but, also, no

doubt, he had ways and means of evading the law. His lawyer, Harper Steger, looked very shrewd and canny

to them. It was very cold, and both men wore long, dark, bluishgray overcoats, cut in the latest mode.

Cowperwood was given to small boutonnieres in fair weather, but today 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 of watchchains, and no other ornament of any kind. He always looked jaunty and yet reserved,

goodnatured, and yet capable and selfsufficient. Never had he looked more so than he did today.

He at once took in the nature of the scene, which had a peculiar interest for him. Before him was the as yet

empty judge's rostrum, and at its right the empty jurybox, between which, and to the judge's left, as he sat

facing the audience, stood the witnesschair where he must presently sit and testify. Behind it, already

awaiting the arrival of the court, stood a fat bailiff, one John Sparkheaver whose business it was to present the

aged, greasy Bible to be touched by the witnesses in making oath, and to say, "Step this way," when the

testimony was over. There were other bailiffsone at the gate giving into the railed space before the judge's

desk, where prisoners were arraigned, lawyers sat or pleaded, the defendant had a chair, and so on; another in

the aisle leading to the juryroom, and still another guarding the door by which the public entered.

Cowperwood surveyed Stener, who was one of the witnesses, and who now, in his helpless fright over his

own fate, was without malice toward any one. He had really never borne any. He wished if anything now that

he had followed Cowperwood's advice, seeing where he now was, though he still had faith that Mollenhauer

and the political powers represented by him would do something for him with the governor, once he was

sentenced. He was very pale and comparatively thin. Already he had lost that ruddy bulk which had been

added during the days of his prosperity. He wore a new gray suit and a brown tie, and was cleanshaven.

When his eye caught Cowperwood's steady beam, it faltered and drooped. He rubbed his ear foolishly.

"You know," he said to Steger, "I feel sorry for George. He's such a fool. Still I did all I could."

Cowperwood also watched Mrs. Stener out of the tail of his eye an undersized, peaked, and sallow little

woman, whose clothes fitted her abominably. It was just like Stener to marry a woman like that, he thought.

The scrubby matches of the socially unelect or unfit always interested, though they did not always amuse,

him. Mrs. Stener had no affection for Cowperwood, of course, looking on him, as she did, as the

unscrupulous cause of her husband's downfall. They were now quite poor again, about to move from their big

Judge Payderson came in after a time, accompanied by his undersized but stout court attendant, who looked

more like a pouterpigeon than a human being; and as they came, Bailiff Sparkheaver rapped on the judge's

desk, beside which he had been slumbering, and mumbled, "Please rise!" The audience arose, as is the rule of

all courts. Judge Payderson stirred among a number of briefs that were lying on his desk, and asked, briskly,

During the long and tedious arrangement of the day's docket and while the various minor motions of lawyers

were being considered, this courtroom scene still retained interest for Cowperwood. He was so eager to win,

so incensed at the outcome of untoward events which had brought him here. He was always intensely

irritated, though he did not show it, by the whole process of footing delays and queries and quibbles, by

which legally the affairs of men were too often hampered. Law, if you had asked him, and he had accurately

expressed himself, was a mist formed out of the moods and the mistakes of men, which befogged the sea of

life and prevented plain sailing for the little commercial and social barques of men; it was a miasma of

misinterpretation where the ills of life festered, and also a place where the accidentally wounded were ground

between the upper and the nether millstones of force or chance; it was a strange, weird, interesting, and yet

futile battle of wits where the ignorant and the incompetent and the shrewd and the angry and the weak were

made pawns and shuttlecocks for menlawyers, who were playing upon their moods, their vanities, their

desires, and their necessities. It was an unholy and unsatisfactory disrupting and delaying spectacle, a painful

commentary on the frailties of life, and men, a trick, a snare, a pit and gin. In the hands of the strong, like

himself when he was at his best, the law was a sword and a shield, a trap to place before the feet of the

unwary; a pit to dig in the path of those who might pursue. It was anything you might choose to make of

ita door to illegal opportunity; a cloud of dust to be cast in the eyes of those who might choose, and

rightfully, to see; a veil to be dropped arbitrarily between truth and its execution, justice and its judgment,

crime and punishment. Lawyers in the main were intellectual mercenaries to be bought and sold in any cause.

It amused him to hear the ethical and emotional platitudes of lawyers, to see how readily they would lie, steal,

prevaricate, misrepresent in almost any cause and for any purpose. Great lawyers were merely great

unscrupulous subtleties, like himself, sitting back in dark, closewoven lairs like spiders and awaiting 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 whole unsatisfactory

mess. Still he used law as he would use any other trap or weapon to rid him of a human ill; and as for

lawyers, he picked them up as he would any club or knife wherewith to defend himself. He had no particular

respect for any of themnot even Harper Steger, though he liked him. They were tools to be usedknives,

keys, clubs, anything you will; but nothing more. When they were through they were paid and droppedput

aside and forgotten. As for judges, they were merely incompetent lawyers, at a rule, who were shelved by

some fortunate turn of chance, and who would not, in all likelihood, be as efficient as the lawyers who

pleaded before them if they were put in the same position. He had no respect for judgeshe knew too much

about them. He knew how often they were sycophants, political climbers, political hacks, tools, timeservers,

judicial doormats lying before the financially and politically great and powerful who used them as such.

Judges were fools, as were most other people in this dusty, shifty world. Pah! His inscrutable eyes took them

all in and gave no sign. His only safety lay, he thought, in the magnificent subtley of his own brain, and

nowhere else. You could not convince Cowperwood of any great or inherent virtue in this mortal scheme of

When the judge finally cleared away the various minor motions pending, he ordered his clerk to call the case

of the City of Philadelphia versus Frank A. Cowperwood, which was done in a clear voice. Both Dennis

Shannon, the new district attorney, and Steger, were on their feet at once. Steger and Cowperwood, together

with Shannon and Strobik, who had now come in and was standing as the representative of the State of

Pennsylvaniathe complainanthad seated themselves at the long table inside the railing which inclosed

the space before the judge's desk. Steger proposed to Judge Payderson, for effect's sake more than anything

A jury to try the case was now quickly impaneledtwelve men out of the usual list called to serve for the

monthand was then ready to be challenged by the opposing counsel. The business of impaneling a jury was

a rather simple thing so far as this court was concerned. It consisted in the mandarinlike clerk taking the

names of all the jurors called to serve in this court for the monthsome fifty in alland putting them, each

written on a separate slip of paper, in a whirling drum, spinning it around a few times, and then lifting out the

first slip which his hand encountered, thus glorifying chance and settling on who should be juror No. 1. His

hand reaching in twelve times drew out the names of the twelve jurymen, who as their names were called,

Cowperwood observed this proceeding with a great deal of interest. What could be more important than the

men who were going to try him? The process was too swift for accurate judgment, but he received a faint

impression of middleclass men. One man in particular, however, an old man of sixtyfive, with irongray

hair and beard, shaggy eyebrows, sallow complexion, and stooped shoulders, struck him as having that

kindness of temperament and breadth of experience which might under certain circumstances be

argumentatively swayed in his favor. Another, a small, sharpnosed, sharpchinned commercial man of

"You don't," replied Steger. "I'll challenge him. We have the right to fifteen peremptory challenges on a case

When the jurybox was finally full, the two lawyers waited for the clerk to bring them the small board upon

which slips of paper bearing the names of the twelve jurors were fastened in rows in order of their

selectionjurors one, two, and three being in the first row; four, five, and six in the second, and so on. It

being the prerogative of the attorney for the prosecution to examine and challenge the jurors first, Shannon

arose, and, taking the board, began to question them as to their trades or professions, their knowledge of the

case before the court, and their possible prejudice for or against the prisoner.

It was the business of both Steger and Shannon to find men who knew a little something of finance and could

understand a peculiar situation of this kind without any of them (looking at it from Steger's point of view)

having any prejudice against a man's trying to assist himself by reasonable means to weather a financial

storm or (looking at it from Shannon's point of view) having any sympathy with such means, if they bore

about them the least suspicion of chicanery, jugglery, or dishonest manipulation of any kind. As both

Shannon and Steger in due course observed for themselves in connection with this jury, it was composed of

that assorted social fry which the dragnets of the courts, cast into the ocean 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 fitted him for service in proceedings of this character. Rarely would you have found a man of

great distinction; but very frequently a group of men who were possessed of no small modicum of that

Throughout all this Cowperwood sat quietly examining the men. A young florist, with a pale face, a wide

speculative forehead, and anemic hands, struck him as being sufficiently impressionable to his personal

charm to be worth while. He whispered as much to Steger. There was a shrewd Jew, a furrier, who was

challenged because he had read all of the news of the panic and had lost two thousand dollars in

streetrailway stocks. There was a stout wholesale grocer, with red cheeks, blue eyes, and flaxen hair, who

Cowperwood said he thought was stubborn. He was eliminated. There was a thin, dapper manager of a small

retail clothing store, very anxious to be excused, who declared, falsely, that he did not believe in swearing by

the Bible. Judge Payderson, eyeing him severely, let him go. There were some ten more in allmen who

knew of Cowperwood, men who admitted they were prejudiced, men who were hidebound Republicans and

By twelve o'clock, however, a jury reasonably satisfactory to both sides had been chosen.

At two o'clock sharp Dennis Shannon, as district attorney, began his opening address. He stated in a very

simple, kindly wayfor he had a most engaging mannerthat the indictment as here presented charged Mr.

Frank A. Cowperwood, who was sitting at the table inside the juryrail, first with larceny, second with

embezzlement, third with larceny as bailee, and fourth with embezzlement of a certain sum of moneya

specific sum, to wit, sixty thousand dollarson a check given him (drawn to his order) October 9, 1871,

which was intended to reimburse him for a certain number of certificates of city loan, which he as agent or

bailee of the check was supposed to have purchased for the city sinkingfund on the order of the city

treasurer (under some form of agreement which had been in existence between them, and which had been in

force for some time)said fund being intended to take up such certificates as they might mature in the hands

of holders and be presented for paymentfor which purpose, however, the check in question had never been

"Now, gentlemen," said Mr. Shannon, very quietly, "before we go into this very simple question of whether

Mr. Cowperwood did or did not on the date in question get from the city treasurer sixty thousand dollars, for

which he made no honest return, let me explain to you just what the people mean when they charge him first

with larceny, second with embezzlement, third with larceny as bailee, and fourth with embezzlement on a

check. Now, as you see, there are four counts here, as we lawyers term them, and the reason there are four

counts is as follows: A man may be guilty of larceny and embezzlement at the same time, or of larceny or

embezzlement separately, and without being guilty of the other, and the district attorney representing the

people might be uncertain, not that he was not guilty of both, but that it might not be possible to present the

evidence under one count, so as to insure his adequate punishment for a crime which in a way involved both.

In such cases, gentlemen, it is customary to indict a man under separate counts, as has been done in this case.

Now, the four counts in this case, in a way, overlap and confirm each other, and it will be your duty, after we

have explained their nature and character and presented the evidence, to say whether the defendant is guilty

on one count or the other, or on two or three of the counts, or on all four, just as you see fit and properor,

to put it in a better way, as the evidence warrants. Larceny, as you may or may not know, is the act of taking

away the goods or chattels of another without his knowledge or consent, and embezzlement is the fraudulent

appropriation to one's own use of what is intrusted to one's care and management, especially money. Larceny

as bailee, on the other hand, is simply a more definite form of larceny wherein one fixes the act of carrying

away the goods of another without his knowledge or consent on the person to whom the goods were delivered

in trust that is, the agent or bailee. Embezzlement on a check, which constitutes the fourth charge, is simply a

more definite form of fixing charge number two in an exact way and signifies appropriating the money on a

check given for a certain definite purpose. All of these charges, as you can see, gentlemen, are in 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 to me as an individual that this defendant has one

of the most subtle and dangerous minds of the criminal financier type, and we hope by witnesses to prove that

Shannon, because the rules of evidence and court procedure here admitted of no interruption of the

prosecution in presenting a case, then went on to describe from his own point of view how Cowperwood had

first met Stener; how he had wormed himself into his confidence; how little financial knowledge Stener had,

and so forth; coming down finally to the day the check for sixty thousand dollars was given Cowperwood;

how Stener, 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 been

purchased for the sinkingfund, if they were purchased at allall of which Shannon said constituted the

crimes with which the defendant was charged, and of which he was unquestionably guilty.

"We have direct and positive evidence of all that we have thus far contended, gentlemen," Mr. Shannon

concluded violently. "This is not a matter of hearsay or theory, but of fact. You will be shown by direct

testimony which cannot be shaken just how it was done. If, after you have heard all this, you still think this

man is innocentthat he did not commit the crimes with which he is chargedit is your business to acquit

him. On the other hand, if you think the witnesses whom we shall put on the stand are telling the truth, then it

is your business to convict him, to find a verdict for the people as against the defendant. I thank you for your

The jurors stirred comfortably and took positions of ease, in which they thought they were to rest for the

time; but their idle comfort was of short duration for Shannon now called out the name of George W. Stener,

who came hurrying forward very pale, very flaccid, very tiredlooking. His eyes, as he took his seat in the

witnesschair, laying his hand on the Bible and swearing to tell the truth, roved in a restless, nervous manner.

His voice was a little weak as he started to give his testimony. He told first how he had met Cowperwood in

the early months of 1866he could not remember the exact day; it was during his first term as city

treasurerhe had been elected to the office in the fall of 1864. He had been 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 oneMr. Strobik, he believed, though he couldn't be

sure. It was the custom of city treasurers 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 to describe, under steady promptings and questions

from the incisive mind of Shannon, just what the nature of this first conversation washe remembered it

fairly well; how Mr. Cowperwood had said he thought he could do what was wanted; how he had gone away

and drawn up a plan or thought one out; and how he had returned and laid it before Stener. Under Shannon's

skillful guidance Stener elucidated just what this scheme waswhich wasn't exactly so flattering to the

After much discussion of Stener's and Cowperwood's relations the story finally got down to the preceding

October, when by reason of companionship, long business understanding, mutually prosperous relationship,

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 the bargain had secured

one five hundred thousand dollars' worth of city money at an exceedingly low rate of interest, which was

being invested for himself and Stener in profitable streetcar ventures of one kind and another. Stener was

not anxious to be altogether clear on this point; but Shannon, seeing that he was later to prosecute Stener

himself for this very crime of embezzlement, and that Steger would soon follow in crossexamination, was

not willing to let him be hazy. Shannon wanted to fix Cowperwood in the minds of the jury as a clever, tricky

person, and by degrees he certainly managed to indicate a very subtleminded man. Occasionally, as one

sharp point after another of Cowperwood's skill was brought out and made moderately clear, one juror or

another turned to look at Cowperwood. And he noting this and in order to impress them all as favorably as

possible merely gazed Stenerward with a steady air of intelligence and comprehension.

The examination now came down to the matter of the particular check for sixty thousand dollars which Albert

Stires had handed Cowperwood on the afternoonlateof October 9, 1871. Shannon showed Stener the

check itself. Had he ever seen it? Yes. Where? In the office of District Attorney Pettie on October 20th, or

thereabouts last. Was that the first time 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 way just how and under what

circumstances he first heard of it then? Stener twisted uncomfortably in his chair. It was a hard thing to do. It

was not a pleasant commentary on his own character and degree of moral stamina, to say the least. However,

he cleared his throat again and began a description of that small but bitter section of his life's drama in which

Cowperwood, finding himself in a tight place and about to fail, had come to him at his office and demanded

There was considerable bickering just at this point between Steger and Shannon, for the former was very

anxious to make it appear that Stener was lying out of the whole cloth about this. Steger got in his objection

at this point, and created a considerable diversion from the main theme, because Stener kept saying he

"Object!" shouted Steger, repeatedly. "I move that that be stricken from the record as incompetent, irrelevant,

and immaterial. The witness is not allowed to say what he thinks, and the prosecution knows it very well."

"Your honor," insisted Shannon, "I am doing the best I can to have the witness tell a plain, straightforward

"Object!" reiterated Steger, vociferously. "Your honor, I insist that the district attorney has no right to

prejudice the minds of the jury by flattering estimates of the sincerity of the witness. What he thinks of the

witness and his sincerity is of no importance in this case. I must ask that your honor caution him plainly in

"Objection sustained," declared Judge Payderson, "the prosecution will please be more explicit"; and

Stener's testimony, in one respect, was most important, for it made plain what Cowperwood did not want

brought outnamely, that he and Stener had had a dispute before this; that Stener had distinctly told

Cowperwood that he would not loan him any more money; that Cowperwood had told Stener, on the day

before he secured this check, and again on that very day, that he was in a very desperate situation financially,

and that if he were not assisted to the extent of three hundred thousand dollars 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

Cowperwood a letter ordering him to cease purchasing city loan certificates for the sinkingfund. It was after

their conversation on the same afternoon that Cowperwood surreptitiously secured the check for sixty

thousand dollars from Albert Stires without his (Stener's) knowledge; and it was subsequent to this latter

again that Stener, sending Albert to demand the return of the check, was refused, though the next day at five

o'clock in the afternoon Cowperwood made an assignment. And the certificates for which the check had been

purloined were not in the sinkingfund as they should have been. This was dark testimony for Cowperwood.

If any one imagines that all this was done without many vehement objections and exceptions made and taken

by Steger, and subsequently when he was crossexamining Stener, by Shannon, he errs greatly. At times the

chamber was coruscating with these two gentlemen's bitter wrangles, 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 a sense

of order. Indeed while Payderson was highly incensed, the jury was amused and interested.

"You gentlemen will have to stop this, or I tell you now that you will both be heavily fined. This is a court of

law, not a barroom. 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 manner is offensive to me. It is not becoming to a court

Both lawyers apologized as lawyers do on such occasions, but it really made but little difference. Their

"What did he say to you," asked Shannon of Stener, after one of these troublesome interruptions, "on that

occasion, October 9th last, when he came to you and demanded the loan of an additional three hundred

thousand dollars? Give his words as near as you can rememberexactly, if possible."

"Object!" interposed Steger, vigorously. "His exact words are not recorded anywhere except in Mr. Stener's

memory, and his memory of them cannot be admitted in this case. The witness has testified to the general

"He said, as near as I can remember," replied Stener, drumming on the arms of the witnesschair in a nervous

way, "that if I didn't give him three hundred thousand dollars he was going to fail, and I would be poor and

"Object!" shouted Stager, leaping to his feet. "Your honor, I object to the whole manner in which this

examination is being conducted by the prosecution. The evidence which the district attorney is here trying to

extract from the uncertain memory of the witness is in defiance of all law and precedent, and has no definite

bearing on the facts of the case, and could not disprove or substantiate whether Mr. Cowperwood thought or

did not think that he was going to fail. Mr. Stener might give one version of this conversation or any

conversation that took place at this time, and Mr. Cowperwood another. As a matter of fact, their versions are

different. I see no point in Mr. Shannon's line of inquiry, unless it is to prejudice the jury's minds towards

accepting certain allegations which the prosecution is pleased to make and which it cannot possibly

substantiate. I think you ought to caution the witness to testify only in regard to things that he recalls exactly,

not to what he thinks he remembers; and for my part I think that all that has been testified to in the last five

"Objection overruled," replied Judge Payderson, rather indifferently; and Steger who had been talking merely

to overcome the weight of Stener's testimony in the minds of the jury, sat down.

"Now, as near as you can remember, Mr. Stener, I wish you would tell the jury what else it was that Mr.

Cowperwood said on that occasion. He certainly didn't stop with the remark that you would be ruined and go

to the penitentiary. Wasn't there other language that was employed on that occasion?"

"He said, as far as I can remember," replied Stener, "that there were a lot of political schemers who were

trying to frighten me, that if I didn't give him three hundred thousand dollars we would both be ruined, and

"How did he say it, exactly? What were his exact words?" Shannon demanded, emphatically, pointing a

forceful forefinger at Stener in order 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

"Exactly!" exclaimed Shannon, whirling around past the jury to look at Cowperwood. "I thought so."

"Pure pyrotechnics, your honor," said Steger, rising to his feet on the instant. "All intended to prejudice the

minds of the jury. Acting. I wish you would caution the counsel for the prosecution to confine himself to the

The spectators smiled; and Judge Payderson, noting it, frowned severely. "Do you make that as an objection,

"Objection overruled. Neither counsel for the prosecution nor for the defense is limited to a peculiar routine

Cowperwood fearing the force of such testimony and regretting it, still looked at Stener, pityingly. The

feebleness of the man; the weakness of the man; the pass to which his cowardice had brought them both!

When Shannon was through bringing out this unsatisfactory data, Steger took Stener in hand; but he could

not make as much out of him as he hoped. In so far as this particular situation was concerned, Stener was

telling the exact truth; and it is hard to weaken the effect of the exact truth by any subtlety of interpretation,

though it can, sometimes, be done. With painstaking care Steger went over all the ground of Stener's long

relationship with Cowperwood, and tried to make it appear that Cowperwood was invariably the disinterested

agentnot the ringleader in a subtle, really criminal adventure. It was hard to do, but he made a fine

impression. Still the jury listened with skeptical minds. It might not be fair to punish Cowperwood for seizing

with avidity upon a splendid chance to get rich quick, they thought; but it certainly was not worth while to

throw a veil of innocence over such palpable human cupidity. Finally, both lawyers were through with Stener

He was the same thin, pleasant, alert, rather agreeable soul that he had been in the heyday of his clerkly

prosperitya little paler now, but not otherwise changed. His small property had been saved for him by

Cowperwood, who had advised Steger to inform the Municipal Reform Association that Stires' bondsmen

were attempting to sequestrate it for their own benefit, when actually it should go to the city if there were any

real claim against himwhich there was not. That watchful organization had issued one of its numerous

reports covering this point, and Albert had had the pleasure of seeing Strobik and the others withdraw in

haste. Naturally he was grateful to Cowperwood, even though once he had been compelled to cry in vain in

his presence. He was anxious now to do anything he could to help the banker, but his naturally truthful

disposition prevented him from telling anything except the plain facts, which were partly beneficial and

Stires testified that he recalled Cowperwood's saying that he had purchased the certificates, that he was

entitled to the money, that Stener 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's books, which were also produced, as being corroborative. His testimony as to

Stener's astonishment on discovering that his chief clerk had given Cowperwood a check was against the

latter; but Cowperwood hoped to overcome the effect of this by his own testimony later.

Up to now both Steger and Cowperwood felt that they were doing fairly well, and that they need not be

The trial moved on. One witness for the prosecution after another followed until the State had built up an

arraignment that satisfied Shannon that he had established Cowperwood's guilt, whereupon he announced that

he rested. Steger at once arose and began a long argument for the dismissal of the case on the ground that

there was no evidence to show this, that and the other, but Judge Payderson would have none of it. He knew

"I don't think you had better go into all that now, Mr. Steger," he said, wearily, after allowing him to proceed

a reasonable distance. "I am familiar with the custom of the city, and the indictment as here made does not

concern the custom of the city. Your argument is with the jury, not with me. I couldn't enter into that now.

DistrictAttorney Shannon, who had been listening attentively, sat down. Steger, seeing there was no chance

to soften the judge's mind by any subtlety of argument, returned to Cowperwood, who smiled at the result.

Steger then approached the jury, and, having outlined the case briefly from his angle of observation,

continued by telling them what he was sure the evidence would show from his point of view.

"As a matter of fact, gentlemen, there is no essential difference in the evidence which the prosecution can

present and that which we, the defense, can present. We are not going to dispute that Mr. Cowperwood

received a check from Mr. Stener for sixty thousand dollars, or that he failed to put the certificate of city loan

which that sum of money represented, and to which he was entitled in payment as agent, in the sinkingfund,

as the prosecution now claims he should have done; but we are going to claim and prove also beyond the

shadow of a reasonable doubt that he had a right, as the agent of the city, doing business with the city through

its treasury department for four years, to withhold, under an agreement which he had with the city treasurer,

all payments of money and all deposits of certificates in the sinkingfund until the first day of each

succeeding monththe first month following any given transaction. As a matter of fact we can and will

bring many traders and bankers who have had dealings with the city treasury in the past in just this way to

prove this. The prosecution is going to ask you to believe that Mr. Cowperwood knew at the time he received

this check that he was going to fail; that he did not buy the certificates, as he claimed, with the view of

placing them in the sinkingfund; and that, knowing he was going to fail, and that he could not subsequently

deposit them, he deliberately went to Mr. Albert Stires, Mr. Stener's secretary, told him that he had purchased

such certificates, and on the strength of a falsehood, implied if not actually spoken, secured the check, and

"Now, gentlemen, I am not going to enter into a longwinded discussion of these points at this time, since the

testimony is going to show very rapidly what the facts are. We have a number of witnesses here, and we are

all anxious to have them heard. What I am going to ask you to remember is that there is not one scintilla of

testimony outside of that which may possibly be given by Mr. George W. Stener, which will show either that

Mr. Cowperwood knew, at the time he called on the city treasurer, that he was going to fail, or that he had not

purchased the certificates in question, or that he had not the right to withhold them from the sinkingfund as

long as he pleased up to the first of the month, the time he invariably struck a balance with the city. Mr.

Stener, the excity treasurer, may possibly testify one way. Mr. Cowperwood, on his own behalf, will testify

another. It will then be for you gentlemen to decide between them, to decide which one you prefer to

believeMr. George W. Stener, the excity treasurer, the former commercial associate of Mr. Cowperwood,

who, after years and years of profit, solely because of conditions of financial stress, fire, and panic, preferred

to turn on his onetime associate from whose labors he had reaped so much profit, or Mr. Frank A.

Cowperwood, the wellknown banker and financier, who did his best to weather the storm alone, who

fulfilled to the letter every agreement he ever had with the city, who has even until this hour been busy trying

to remedy the unfair financial difficulties forced upon him by fire and panic, and who only yesterday made an

offer to the city that, if he were allowed to continue in uninterrupted control of his affairs he would gladly

repay as quickly as possible every dollar of his indebtedness (which is really not all his), including the five

hundred thousand dollars under discussion between him and Mr. Stener and the city, and so prove by his

works, not talk, that there was no basis for this unfair suspicion of his motives. As you perhaps surmise, the

city has not chosen to accept his offer, and I shall try and tell you why later, gentlemen. For the present we

will proceed with the testimony, and for the defense all I ask is that you give very close attention to all that is

testified to here today. 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 judge for yourselves. See if you can distinguish a just motive for this prosecution. 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 'change as special agent during the panic,

to testify to the large quantities of city loan he had purchased to stay the market; and then after him,

Cowperwood's brothers, Edward and Joseph, who testified to instructions received from Rivers as to buying

The next witness was President W. C. Davison of the Girard National Bank. He was a large man physically,

not so round of body as full and broad. His shoulders and chest were ample. He had a big blond head, with an

ample breadth of forehead, which was high and sanelooking. He had a thick, squat nose, which, however,

was forceful, and thin, firm, even lips. There was the faintest touch of cynical humor in his hard blue eyes at

times; but mostly he was friendly, alert, placidlooking, without seeming in the least sentimental or even

kindly. His business, as one could see plainly, was to insist on hard financial facts, and one could see also

how he would naturally be drawn to Frank Algernon Cowperwood without being mentally dominated or

upset by him. As he took the chair very quietly, and yet one might say significantly, it was obvious that he

felt that this sort of legalfinancial palaver was above the average man and beneath the dignity of a true

financier in other words, a bother. The drowsy Sparkheaver holding up a Bible beside him for him to

swear by might as well have been a block of wood. His oath was a personal matter with him. It was good

business to tell the truth at times. His testimony was very direct and very simple.

He had known Mr. Frank Algernon Cowperwood for nearly ten years. He had done business with or through

him nearly all of that time. He knew nothing of his personal relations with Mr. Stener, and did not know Mr.

Stener personally. As for the particular check of sixty thousand dollarsyes, he had seen it before. It had

come into the bank on October 10th along with other collateral to offset an overdraft on the part 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 the clearinghouse. No money was drawn out of the bank by Cowperwood & Co.

after that to create an overdraft. The bank's account with Cowperwood was squared.

Nevertheless, Mr. Cowperwood might have drawn heavily, and nothing would have been thought of it. Mr.

Davison did not know that Mr. Cowperwood was going to faildid not suppose that he could, so quickly.

He had frequently overdrawn his account with the bank; as a matter of fact, it was the regular course of his

business to overdraw it. It kept his assets actively in use, which was the height of good business. His

overdrafts were protected by collateral, however, and it was his custom to send bundles of collateral or

checks, or both, which were variously distributed to keep things straight. Mr. Cowperwood's account was the

largest and most active in the bank, Mr. Davison kindly volunteered. When Mr. Cowperwood had failed there

had been over ninety thousand dollars' worth of certificates of city loan in the bank's possession which Mr

Cowperwood had sent there as collateral. Shannon, on crossexamination, tried to find out for the sake of the

effect on the jury, whether Mr. Davison was not for some ulterior motive especially favorable to

Cowperwood. It was not possible for him to do that. Steger followed, and did his best to render the favorable

points made by Mr. Davison in Cowperwood's behalf perfectly clear to the jury by having him repeat them.

Shannon objected, of course, but it was of no use. Steger managed to make his point.

He now decided to have Cowperwood take the stand, and at the mention of his name in this connection the

Cowperwood came forward briskly and quickly. He was so calm, so jaunty, so defiant of life, and yet so

courteous to it. These lawyers, this jury, this strawandwater judge, these machinations of fate, did not

basically disturb or humble or weaken him. He saw through the mental equipment of the jury at once. He

wanted to assist his counsel in disturbing and confusing Shannon, but his reason told him that only an

indestructible fabric of fact or seeming would do it. He believed in the financial 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, picayune minds which could not understand this? He

went over his history for Steger and the jury, and put the sanest, most comfortable light on it that he could.

He had not gone to Mr. Stener in the first place, he saidhe had been called. He had not urged Mr. Stener to

anything. He had merely shown him and his friends financial possibilities which they were only too eager to

seize upon. And they had seized upon them. (It was not possible for Shannon to discover at this period how

subtly he had organized his streetcar companies so that he could have "shaken out" Stener and his friends

without their being able to voice a single protest, so he talked of these things as opportunities which he had

made for Stener and others. Shannon was not a financier, neither was Steger. They had to believe in a way,

though they doubted it, partlyparticularly Shannon.) He was not responsible for the custom prevailing in

The jury looked at him, and believed all except this matter of the sixtythousanddollar check. When it came

to that he explained it all plausibly enough. When he had gone to see Stener those several last days, he had

not fancied that he was really going to fail. He had asked Stener for some money, it is truenot so very

much, all things consideredone hundred and fifty thousand dollars; but, as Stener should have testified, he

(Cowperwood) was not disturbed in his manner. Stener had merely been one resource of his. He was satisfied

at that time that he had many others. He had not used the forceful language or made the urgent appeal which

Stener said he had, although he had pointed out to Stener that it was a mistake to become panicstricken, also

to withhold further credit. It was true that Stener was his easiest, his quickest resource, but not his only one.

He thought, as a matter of fact, that his credit would be greatly extended by his principal money friends if

necessary, and that he would have ample time to patch up his affairs and keep things going until the storm

should blow over. He had told Stener of his extended purchase of city loan to stay the market on the first day

of the panic, and of the fact that sixty thousand dollars was due him. Stener had made no objection. It was

just possible that he was too mentally disturbed at the time to pay close attention. After that, to his,

Cowperwood's, surprise, unexpected pressure on great financial houses from unexpected directions had

caused them to be not willingly but unfortunately severe with him. This pressure, coming collectively the

next day, had compelled him to close his doors, though he had not really expected to up to the last moment.

His call for the sixtythousanddollar check at the time had been purely fortuitous. He needed the money, of

course, but it was due him, and his clerks were all 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. The matter of depositing city

loan certificates in the sinkingfund, when purchased for the city, was something to which he never gave any

personal attention whatsoever. His bookkeeper, Mr. Stapley, attended to all that. He did not know, as a matter

of fact, that they had not been deposited. (This was a barefaced lie. He did know.) As for the check being

turned over to the Girard National Bank, that was fortuitous. It might just as well have been turned over to

Thus on and on he went, answering all of Steger's and Shannon's searching questions with the most engaging

frankness, and you could have sworn from the solemnity with which he took it all the serious business

attentionthat he was the soul of socalled commercial honor. And to say truly, he did believe in the justice

as well as the necessity and the importance of all that he had done and now described. He wanted the jury to

He was through finally, and the effect on the jury of his testimony and his personality was peculiar. Philip

Moultrie, juror No. 1, decided that Cowperwood was lying. He could not see how it was possible that he

could not know the day before that he was going to fail. He must have known, he thought. Anyhow, the

whole series of transactions between him and Stener seemed deserving of some punishment, and all during

this testimony he was thinking how, when he got in the juryroom, he would vote guilty. He even thought of

some of the arguments he would use to convince the others that Cowperwood was guilty. Juror No. 2, on the

contrary, Simon Glassberg, a clothier, thought he understood how it all came about, and decided to vote for

acquittal. He did not think Cowperwood was innocent, but he did not think he deserved to be punished. Juror

No. 3, Fletcher Norton, an architect, thought Cowperwood was guilty, but at the same time that he was too

talented to be sent to prison. Juror No. 4, Charles Hillegan, an Irishman, a contractor, and a somewhat

religiousminded person, thought Cowperwood was guilty and ought 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. Uncertain what he would do, juror No. 7, J. J. Bridges, a broker

in Third Street, small, practical, narrow, thought Cowperwood was shrewd and guilty and deserved to be

punished. He would vote for his punishment. Juror No. 8, Guy E. Tripp, general manager of a small

steamboat company, was uncertain. Juror No. 9, Joseph Tisdale, a retired glue manufacturer, thought

Cowperwood was probably guilty as charged, but to Tisdale it was no crime. Cowperwood was entitled to do

as he had done under the circumstances. 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, Richard Webber, a grocer, small financially, but heavy physically, was for Cowperwood's

conviction. He thought him guilty. Juror No. 12, Washington B. Thomas, a wholesale flour merchant, thought

Cowperwood was guilty, but believed in a recommendation to mercy after pronouncing him so. Men ought to

So they stood, and so Cowperwood left them, wondering whether any of his testimony had had a favorable

Since it is the privilege of the lawyer for the defense to address the jury first, Steger bowed politely to his

colleague and came forward. Putting his hands on the jurybox rail, he began in a very quiet, modest, but

"Gentlemen of the jury, my client, Mr. Frank Algernon Cowperwood, a wellknown banker and financier of

this city, doing business in Third Street, is charged by the State of Pennsylvania, represented by the district

attorney of this district, with fraudulently transferring from the treasury of the city of Philadelphia to his own

purse the sum of sixty 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, the private secretary and head bookkeeper of the treasurer of this

city, at the time in question. Now, gentlemen, what are the facts in this connection? You have heard the

various witnesses and know the general outlines of the story. Take the testimony of George W. Stener, to

begin with. He tells you that sometime back in the year 1866 he was greatly in need of some one, some

banker or broker, who would tell him how to bring city loan, which was selling very low at the time, to

parwho would not only tell him this, but proceed to demonstrate that his knowledge was accurate by doing

it. Mr. Stener was an inexperienced man at the time in the matter of finance. Mr. Cowperwood was an active

young man with an enviable record as a broker and a trader on 'change. He proceeded to demonstrate to Mr.

Stener not only in theory, but in fact, how this thing of bringing city loan to par could be done. He made an

arrangement at that time with Mr. Stener, the details of which you have heard from Mr. Stener himself, the

result of which was that a large amount of city loan was turned over to Mr. Cowperwood by Mr. Stener for

sale, and by adroit manipulationmethods of buying and selling which need not be gone into here, but

which are perfectly sane and legitimate in the world in which Mr. Cowperwood operated, did bring that loan

to par, and kept it there year after year as you have all heard here testified to.

"Now what is the bone of contention here, gentlemen, the significant fact which brings Mr. Stener into this

court at this time charging his oldtime agent and broker with larceny and embezzlement, and alleging that

he has transferred to his own use without a shadow of return sixty thousand dollars of the money which

belongs to the city treasury? What is it? Is it that Mr. Cowperwood secretly, with great stealth, as it were, at

some time or other, unknown to Mr. Stener or to his assistants, entered the office of the treasurer and forcibly,

and with criminal intent, carried away sixty thousand dollars' worth of the city's money? Not at all. The

charge is, as you have heard the district attorney explain, that Mr. Cowperwood came in broad daylight at

between four and five o'clock of the afternoon preceeding the day of his assignment; was closeted with Mr.

Stener for a half or threequarters of an hour; came out; explained to Mr. Albert Stires that he had recently

bought sixty thousand dollars' worth of city loan for the city sinkingfund, for which he had not been paid;

asked that the amount be credited on the city's books to him, and that he be given a check, which was his due,

and walked out. Anything very remarkable about that, gentlemen? Anything very strange? Has it been

testified here today that Mr. Cowperwood was not the agent of the city for the transaction of just such

business as he said on that occasion that he had transacted? Did any one say here on the witnessstand that he

"Why is it then that Mr. Stener charges Mr. Cowperwood with larcenously securing and feloniously

disposing of a check for sixty thousand dollars for certificates which he had a right to buy, and which it has

not been contested here that he did buy? The reason lies just herelistenjust here. At the time my client

asked for the check and took it away with him and deposited it in his own bank to his own account, he failed,

so the prosecution insists, to put the sixty thousand dollars' worth of certificates for which he had received the

check, in the sinkingfund; and having failed to do that, and being compelled by the pressure of financial

events the same day to suspend payment generally, he thereby, according to the prosecution and the anxious

leaders of the Republican party in the city, became an embezzler, a thief, a this or thatanything you please

so long as you find a substitute for George W. Stener and the indifferent leaders of the Republican party in

And here Mr. Steger proceeded boldly and defiantly to outline the entire political situation as it had

manifested itself in connection with the Chicago fire, the subsequent panic and its political consequences, and

to picture Cowperwood as the unjustly maligned agent, who before the fire was valuable and honorable

enough to suit any of the political leaders of Philadelphia, but afterward, and when political defeat threatened,

And it took him a half hour to do that. And afterward but only after he had pointed to Stener as the true

henchman and stalking horse, who had, in turn, been used by political forces above him to accomplish certain

financial results, which they were not willing to have ascribed to themselves, 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 in these matters for years and years. He worked under certain rules which he

and Mr. Stener had agreed upon in the first place, and which obviously came from others, who were above

Mr. Stener, since they were holdover customs and rules from administrations, which had been long before

Mr. Stener ever appeared on the scene as city treasurer. One of them was that he could carry all transactions

over until the first of the month following before he struck a balance. That is, he need not pay any money

over for anything to the city treasurer, need not send him any checks or deposit any money or certificates in

the sinkingfund until the first of the month becausenow listen to this carefully, gentlemen; it is

importantbecause his transactions in connection with city loan and everything else that he dealt in for the

city treasurer were so numerous, so swift, so uncalculated beforehand, that he had to have a loose, easy

system of this kind in order to do his work properlyto do business at all. Otherwise he could not very well

have worked to the best advantage for Mr. Stener, or for any one else. It would have meant too much

bookkeeping for himtoo much for the city treasurer. Mr. Stener has testified to that in the early part of his

story. Albert Stires has indicated that that was his understanding of it. Well, then what? Why, just this. Would

any jury suppose, would any sane business man believe that if such were the case Mr. Cowperwood would be

running personally with all these items of deposit, to the different banks or the sinkingfund or the city

treasurer's office, or would be saying to his head bookkeeper, 'Here, Stapley, here is a check for sixty

thousand dollars. See that the certificates of loan which this represents are put in the sinkingfund today'?

And why not? What a ridiculous supposition any other supposition is! As a matter of course and as had

always been the case, Mr. Cowperwood had a system. When the time came, this check and these certificates

would be automatically taken care of. He handed his bookkeeper the check and forgot all about it. Would you

Mr. Steger paused for breath and inquiry, and then, having satisfied himself that his point had been

"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 has personally testified here that it was only at the last moment before it

actually happened that he either thought or knew of such an occurrence. Why, then, this alleged refusal to let

him have the check to which he was legally entitled? I think I know. I think I can give a reason if you will

Steger shifted his position and came at the jury from another intellectual angle:

"It was simply because Mr. George W. Stener at that time, owing to a recent notable fire and a panic,

imagined for some reason perhaps because Mr. Cowperwood cautioned him not to become frightened over

local developments generallythat Mr. Cowperwood was going to close his doors; and having considerable

money on deposit with him at a low rate of interest, Mr. Stener decided that Mr. Cowperwood must not have

any more moneynot even the money that was actually due him for services rendered, and that had nothing

whatsoever to do with the money loaned him by Mr. Stener at two and onehalf per cent. Now isn't that a

ridiculous situation? But it was because Mr. George W. Stener was filled with his own fears, based on a fire

and a panic which had absolutely nothing to do with Mr. Cowperwood's solvency in the beginning that he

decided not to let Frank A. Cowperwood have the money that was actually due him, because he, Stener, was

criminally using the city's money to further his own private interests (through Mr. Cowperwood as a broker),

and in danger of being exposed and possibly punished. Now where, I ask you, does the good sense of that

decision come in? Is it apparent to you, gentlemen? Was Mr. Cowperwood still an agent for the city at the

time he bought the loan certificates as here testified? He certainly was. If so, was he entitled to that money?

Who is going to stand up here and deny it? Where is the question then, as to his right or his honesty in this

matter? How does it come in here at all? I can tell you. It sprang solely from one source and from nowhere

else, and that is the desire of the politicians of this city to find a scapegoat for the Republican party.

"Now you may think I am going rather far afield for an explanation of this very peculiar decision to prosecute

Mr. Cowperwood, an agent of the city, for demanding and receiving what actually belonged to him. But I'm

not. Consider the position of the Republican party at that time. Consider the fact that an exposure of the truth

in regard to the details of a large defalcation in the city treasury would have a very unsatisfactory effect on

the election about to be held. The Republican party had a new city treasurer to elect, a new district attorney. It

had been in the habit of allowing its city treasurers the privilege of investing the funds in their possession at a

low rate of interest for the 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 vogue long before

either Mr. Cowperwood or Mr. Stener came on the scene. Why, then, this great hue and cry about it now?

The entire uproar sprang solely from the fear of Mr. Stener at this juncture, the fear of the politicians at this

juncture, of public exposure. No city treasurer had ever been exposed before. It was a new thing to face

exposure, to face the risk of having the public's attention called to a rather nefarious practice of which Mr.

Stener was taking advantage, that was all. A great fire and a panic were endangering the security and

wellbeing of many a financial organization in the cityMr. Cowperwood's among others. It meant many

possible failures, and many possible failures meant one possible failure. If Frank A. Cowperwood failed, he

would fail owing the city of Philadelphia five hundred thousand dollars, borrowed from the city treasurer at

the very low rate of interest of two and onehalf per cent. Anything very detrimental to Mr. Cowperwood in

that? Had he gone to the city treasurer and asked to be loaned money at two and onehalf per cent.? If he had,

was there anything criminal in it from a business point of view? Isn't a man entitled to borrow money from

any source he can at the lowest possible rate of interest? Did Mr. Stener have to loan it to Mr. Cowperwood if

he did not want to? As a matter of fact didn't he testify here today that he personally had sent for Mr.

Cowperwood in the first place? Why, then, in Heaven's name, this excited charge of larceny, larceny as

"Once more, gentlemen, listen. I'll tell you why. The men who stood behind Stener, and whose bidding he

was doing, wanted to make a political scapegoat of some oneof Frank Algernon Cowperwood, if they

couldn't get any one else. That's why. No other reason under God's blue sky, not one. Why, if Mr.

Cowperwood needed more money just at that time to tide him over, it would have been good policy for them

to have given it to him and hushed this matter up. It would have been illegal though not any more illegal

than anything else that has ever been done in this connectionbut it would have been safer. Fear, gentlemen,

fear, lack of courage, inability to meet a great crisis when a great crisis appears, was all that really prevented

them from doing this. They were afraid to place confidence in a man who had never heretofore betrayed their

trust and from whose loyalty and great financial ability they and the city had been reaping large profits. The

reigning city treasurer of the time didn't have the courage to go on in the face of fire and panic and the rumors

of possible failure, and stick by his illegal guns; and so he decided to draw in his horns as testified here

todayto ask Mr. Cowperwood to return all or at least a big part of the five hundred thousand dollars he

had loaned him, and which Cowperwood had been actually using for his, Stener's benefit, and to refuse him

in addition the money that was actually due him for an authorized purchase of city loan. 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 five hundred 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 of George W. Stener, and a strong desire on the part of the

Republican party leaders, once they discovered what the situation was, to find some one outside of Stener, the

party treasurer, upon whom they could blame the shortage in the treasury. You heard what Mr. Cowperwood

testified to here in this case todaythat he went to Mr. Stener to forfend against any possible action of this

kind in the first place. And it was because of this very warning that Mr. Stener became wildly excited, lost his

head, and wanted Mr. Cowperwood to return him all his money, all the five hundred thousand dollars he had

loaned him at two and onehalf per cent. Isn't that silly financial business at the best? Wasn't that a fine time

"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 his general office and without his knowledge

or consent persuaded his chief clerk and secretary, Mr. Albert Stires, to give him a check for sixty thousand

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. Cowperwood thought nothing of it, for he was entitled to it, and could collect it in any

court of law having jurisdiction in such cases, failure or no failure. It is silly for Mr. Stener to say he would

have stopped payment. Such a claim was probably an afterthought of the next morning after he had talked

with his friends, the politicians, and was all a part, a trick, a trap, to provide the Republican party with a

scapegoat at this time. Nothing more and nothing less; and you may be sure no one knew it better than the

"Gentlemen of the jury [he finally concluded, quietly and earnestly], you are going to find, when you think it

over in the juryroom this evening, that this charge of larceny and larceny as bailee, and embezzlement of a

check for sixty thousand dollars, which are contained in this indictment, and which represent nothing more

than the eager effort of the district attorney to word this one act in such a way that it will look like a crime,

represents nothing more than the excited imagination of a lot of political refugees who are anxious to protect

their own skirts at the expense of Mr. Cowperwood, and who care for nothinghonor, fair play, or anything

else, so long as they are let off scotfree. They don't want the Republicans of Pennsylvania to think too ill of

the Republican party management and control in this city. They want to protect George W. Stener as much as

possible and to make a political scapegoat of my client. It can't be done, and it won't be done. As honorable,

intelligent men you won't permit it to be done. And I think with that thought I can safely leave you."

Steger suddenly turned from the jurybox and walked to his seat beside Cowperwood, while Shannon arose,

As between man and man, Shannon was not particularly opposed to the case Steger had made out for

Cowperwood, nor was he opposed to Cowperwood's having made money as he did. As a matter of fact,

Shannon actually thought that if he had been in Cowperwood's position he would have done exactly the same

thing. However, he was the newly elected district attorney. He had a record to make; and, besides, the

political powers who were above him were satisfied that Cowperwood ought to be convicted for the looks of

the thing. Therefore he laid his hands firmly on the rail at first, looked the jurors steadily in the eyes for a

"Now, gentlemen of the jury, it seems to me that if we all pay strict attention to what has transpired here

today, we will have no difficulty in reaching a conclusion; and it will be a very satisfactory one, if we all try

to interpret the facts correctly. This defendant, Mr. Cowperwood, comes into this court today charged, as I

have stated to you before, with larceny, with larceny as bailee, with embezzlement, and with embezzlement

of a specific checknamely, one dated October 9, 1871, drawn to the order of Frank A. Cowperwood &

Company for the sum of sixty thousand dollars by the secretary of the city treasurer for the city 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 was not only properly solvent at the time, but had previously purchased certificates of city loan

to the value of sixty thousand dollars, and had at that time or would shortly thereafter, as was his custom,

deposit them to the credit of the city in the city sinkingfund, and thus close what would ordinarily be an

ordinary transaction namely, that of Frank A. Cowperwood & Company as bankers and brokers for the

city buying city loan for the city, depositing it in the sinkingfund, and being promptly and properly

reimbursed. Now, gentlemen, what are the actual facts in this case? Was the said Frank A. Cowperwood &

Companythere is no company, as you well know, as you have heard testified here today, only Frank A.

Cowperwoodwas the said Frank A. Cowperwood a fit person to receive the check at this time in the

manner he received itthat is, was he authorized agent of the city at the time, or was he not? Was he

solvent? Did he actually himself think he was going to fail, and was this sixtythousanddollar check a last

thin straw which he was grabbing at to save his financial life regardless of what it involved legally, morally,

or otherwise; or had he actually purchased certificates of city loan to the amount he said he had in the way he

said he had, at the time he said he had, and was he merely collecting his honest due? Did he intend to deposit

these certificates of loans in the city sinkingfund, as he said he wouldas it was understood naturally and

normally that he wouldor did he not? Were his relations with the city treasurer as broker and agent the

same as they had always been on the day that he secured this particular check for sixty thousand dollars, or

were they not? Had they been terminated by a conversation fifteen minutes before or two days before or two

weeks beforeit makes no difference when, so long as they had been properly terminatedor had they not?

A business man has a right to abrogate an agreement at any time where there is no specific form of contract

and no fixed period of operation entered intoas you all must know. You must not forget that in considering

the evidence in this case. Did George W. Stener, knowing or suspecting that Frank A. Cowperwood was in a

tight place financially, unable to fulfill any longer properly and honestly the duties supposedly devolving on

him 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 no

longer an agent of the city treasurer and the city, and knowing also that he was insolvent (having, as Mr.

Stener contends, admitted to him that he was so), and having no intention of placing the certificates which he

subsequently declared he had purchased in the sinkingfund, go out into Mr. Stener's general office, meet his

secretary, tell him he had purchased sixty thousand dollars' worth of city loan, ask for the check, get it, put it

in his pocket, walk off, and never make any return of any kind in any manner, shape, or form to the city, and

then, subsequently, twentyfour hours later, fail, owing this and five hundred thousand dollars more to the

city treasury, or did he not? What are the facts in this case? What have the witnesses testified to? What has

George 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 a slippery, elusive criminal who was in a fair way to foist himself upon an

honorable and decent community and an honorable and innocent jury as an honest man.

"Now, gentlemen, what are the facts? You can see for yourselves exactly how this whole situation has come

about. You are sensible men. I don't need to tell you. Here are two men, one elected treasurer of the city of

Philadelphia, sworn to guard the interests of the city and to manipulate its finances to the best advantage, and

the other called in at a time of uncertain financial cogitation to assist in unraveling a possibly difficult

financial problem; and then you have a case of a quiet, private financial understanding being reached, and of

subsequent illegal dealings in which one man who is shrewder, wiser, more versed in the subtle ways of

Third Street leads the other along over seemingly charming paths of fortunate investment into an accidental

but none the less criminal mire of failure and exposure and public calumny and what not. And then they get

to the place where the more vulnerable individual of the twothe man in the most dangerous position, the

city treasurer of Philadelphia, no lesscan no longer reasonably or, let us say, courageously, follow the other

fellow; and then you have such a spectacle as was described here this afternoon in the witnesschair by Mr.

Stenerthat is, you have a vicious, greedy, unmerciful financial wolf standing over a cowering,

unsophisticated commercial lamb, and saying to him, his white, shiny teeth glittering all the while, 'If you

don't advance me the money I ask forthe three hundred thousand dollars I now demandyou will be a

convict, your children will be thrown in the street, you and your wife and your family will be in poverty

again, and there will be no one to turn a hand for you.' That is what Mr. Stener says Mr. Cowperwood said to

him. I, for my part, haven't a doubt in the world that he did. Mr. Steger, in his very guarded references to his

client, describes him as a nice, kind, gentlemanly agent, a broker merely on whom was practically forced the

use of five hundred thousand dollars at two and a half per cent. when money was bringing from ten to fifteen

per cent. in Third Street on call loans, and even more. But I for one don't choose to believe it. The thing that

strikes me as strange in all of this is that if he was so nice and kind and gentle and remotea mere hired and

therefore subservient agenthow is it that he could have gone to Mr. Stener's office two or three days before

the matter of this sixtythousanddollar check came up and say to him, as Mr. Stener testifies under oath that

he did say to him, 'If you don't give me three hundred thousand dollars' worth more of the city's money at

once, today, I will fail, and you will be a convict. You will go to the penitentiary.'? That's what he said to

him. 'I will fail and you will be a convict. They can't touch me, but they will arrest you. I am an agent

merely.' Does that sound like a nice, mild, innocent, wellmannered agent, a hired broker, or doesn't it sound

like a hard, defiant, contemptuous mastera man in control and ready to rule and win by fair means or foul?

"Gentlemen, I hold no brief for George W. Stener. In my judgment he is as guilty as his smug copartner in

crimeif not more so this oily financier who came smiling and in sheep's clothing, pointing out subtle

ways by which the city's money could be made profitable for both; but when I hear Mr. Cowperwood

described as I have just heard him described, as a nice, mild, innocent agent, my gorge rises. Why,

gentlemen, if you want to get a right point of view on this whole proposition you will have to go back about

ten or twelve years and see Mr. George W. Stener as he was then, a rather povertystricken beginner in

politics, and before this very subtle and capable broker and agent came along and pointed out ways and

means by which the city's money could be made profitable; George W. Stener wasn't very much of a

personage then, and neither was Frank A. Cowperwood when he found Stener newly elected to the office of

city treasurer. Can't you see him arriving at that time nice and fresh and young and well dressed, as shrewd as

a fox, and saying: 'Come to me. Let me handle city loan. Loan me the city's money at two per cent. or less.'

"George W. Stener was a poor man, comparatively a very poor man, when he first became city treasurer. All

he had was a small realestate and insurance business which brought him in, say, twentyfive hundred

dollars a year. He had a wife and four children to support, and he had never had the slightest taste of what for

him might be called luxury or comfort. Then comes Mr. Cowperwoodat his request, to be sure, but on an

errand which held no theory of evil gains in Mr. Stener's mind at the timeand proposes his grand scheme

of manipulating all the city loan to their mutual advantage. Do you yourselves think, gentlemen, from what

you have seen of George W. Stener here on the witnessstand, that it was he who proposed this plan of

"Does he look to you like a man who would be able to tell that gentleman anything about finance or this

wonderful manipulation that followed? I ask you, does he look clever enough to suggest all the subtleties by

which these two subsequently made so much money? Why, the statement of this man Cowperwood made to

his creditors at the time of his failure here a few weeks ago showed that he considered himself to be worth

over one million two hundred and fifty thousand dollars, and he is only a little over thirtyfour years old

today. How much was he worth at the time he first entered business relations with the excity treasurer?

Have you any idea? I can tell. I had the matter looked up almost a month ago on my accession to office. Just a

little over two hundred thousand dollars, gentlemenjust a little over two hundred thousand dollars. Here is

an abstract from the files of Dun & Company for that year. Now you 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. Was George

W. Stener worth any such sum up to the time he was removed from his office and indicted for

embezzlement? Was he? I have here a schedule of his liabilities and assets made out at the time. You can see

it for yourselves, gentlemen. Just two hundred and twenty thousand dollars measured the sum of all his

property three weeks ago; and it is an accurate 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 vast sums of the city's money at two per cent. when

callrates for money in Third Street were sometimes as high as sixteen and seventeen per cent. Don't you

suppose that Mr. Cowperwood sitting there knew how to use this very cheaply comeby money to the very

best advantage? Does he look to you as though he didn't? You have seen him on the witnessstand. You have

heard him testify. Very suave, very straightforwardseeming, very innocent, doing everything as a favor to

Mr. Stener and his friends, of course, and yet making a million in a little over six years and allowing Mr.

Stener to make one hundred and sixty thousand dollars or less, for Mr. Stener had some little money at the

Shannon now came to the vital transaction of October 9th, when Cowperwood called on Stener and secured

the check for sixty thousand dollars 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

"Think of it! [Shannon exclaimed, turning and looking squarely at Cowperwood, who faced him quite calmly,

undisturbed and unashamed.] Think of it! Think of the colossal nerve of the manthe Machiavellian subtlety

of his brain. He knew he was going to fail. He knew after two days of financial workafter two days of

struggle to offset the providential disaster which upset his nefarious schemesthat he had exhausted every

possible resource save one, the city treasury, and that unless he could compel aid there he was going to fail.

He already owed the city treasury five hundred thousand dollars. He had already used the city treasurer as a

cat'spaw so much, had involved him so deeply, that the latter, because of the staggering size of the debt, was

He shook his finger ominously in Cowperwood's face, and the latter turned irritably away. "He is showing off

for the benefit of his future," he whispered to Steger. "I wish you could tell the jury that."

"Why [continued Mr. Shannon, turning once more to the jury], think of the colossal, wolfish nerve that would

permit a man to say to Albert Stires that he had just purchased sixty thousand dollars' worth additional of city

loan, and that he would then and there take the check for 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 the complicated

bookkeeping system which he ran, and actually tell? The best answer to that is that if he did purchase the

certificates he intended that it should make no difference to the city, for he made no effort to put the

certificates in the sinkingfund, where they belonged. His counsel says, and he says, that he didn't have to

until the first of the month, although the law says that he must do it at once, and he knew well enough that

legally he was bound to do it. His counsel says, and he says, that he didn't know he was going to fail. Hence

there was no need of worrying about it. I wonder if any of you gentlemen really believed that? Had he ever

asked for a check like that so quick before in his life? In all the history of these nefarious transactions was

there another incident like that? You know there wasn't. He had never before, on any occasion, asked

personally for a check for anything in this office, and yet on this occasion he did it. Why? Why should he ask

for it this time? A few hours more, according to his own statement, wouldn't have made any difference one

way or the other, would it? He could have sent a boy for it, as usual. That was the way it had always been

done before. Why anything different now? I'll tell you why! [Shannon suddenly shouted, varying his voice

tremendously.] I'll tell you why! He knew that he was a ruined man! He knew that his last semilegitimate

avenue of escapethe favor of George W. Stenerhad been closed to him! He knew that honestly, by open

agreement, he could not extract another single dollar from the treasury of the city of Philadelphia. He knew

that if he left the office without this check and sent a boy for it, the aroused city treasurer would have time to

inform his clerks, and that then no further money could be obtained. That's why! That's why, gentlemen, if

"Now, gentlemen of the jury, I am about done with my arraignment of this fine, honorable, virtuous citizen

whom the counsel for the defense, Mr. Steger, tells you you cannot possibly convict without doing a great

injustice. All I have to say is that you look to me like sane, intelligent menjust the sort of men that I meet

everywhere in the ordinary walks of life, doing an honorable American business in an honorable American

way. Now, gentlemen of the jury [he was very softspoken now], all I have to say is that if, after all you have

heard and seen here today, you still think that Mr. Frank A. Cowperwood is an honest, honorable manthat

he didn't steal, willfully and knowingly, sixty thousand dollars from the Philadelphia city treasury; that he had

actually bought the certificates he said he had, and had intended to put them in the sinkingfund, as he said

he did, then don't you dare to do anything except turn him loose, and that speedily, so that he can go on back

today into Third Street, and start to straighten out his muchentangled financial affairs. It is the only thing

for honest, conscientious men to doto turn him instantly loose into the heart of this 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. You owe him, if that is the way you feel, a prompt acknowledgment of his innocence. Don't worry about

George W. Stener. His guilt is established by his own confession. He admits he is guilty. He will be

sentenced without trial later on. But this manhe says he is an honest, honorable man. He says he didn't

think he was going to fail. He says he used all that threatening, compelling, terrifying language, not because

he was in danger of failing, but because he didn't want the bother of looking further for aid. What do you

think? Do you really think that he had purchased sixty thousand dollars more of certificates for the

sinkingfund, and that he was entitled to the money? If so, why didn't he put them in the sinkingfund?

They're not there now, and the sixty thousand dollars is gone. Who got it? The Girard National Bank, where

he was overdrawn to the extent of one hundred thousand dollars! Did it get it and forty thousand dollars more

in other checks and certificates? Certainly. Why? Do you suppose the Girard National Bank might be in any

way grateful for this last little favor before he closed his doors? Do you think that President Davison, whom

you saw here testifying so kindly in this case feels at all friendly, and that that may possiblyI don't say that

it doesexplain his very kindly interpretation of Mr. Cowperwood's condition? It might be. You can think as

well along that line as I can. Anyhow, gentlemen, President Davison says Mr. Cowperwood is an honorable,

honest man, and so does his counsel, Mr. Steger. You have heard the testimony. Now you think it over. If you

want to turn him looseturn him loose. [He waved his hand wearily.] You're the judges. I wouldn't; but then

I am merely a hardworking lawyerone person, one opinion. You may think differently that's your

business. [He waved his hand suggestively, almost contemptuously.] However, I'm through, and I thank you

He turned away grandly, and the jury stirredso did the idle spectators in the court. Judge Payderson sighed

a sigh of relief. It was now quite dark, and the flaring gas forms in the court were all brightly lighted. Outside

one could see that it was snowing. The judge stirred among his papers wearily, and turning to the jurors

solemnly, began his customary explanation of the law, after which they filed out to the juryroom.

Cowperwood turned to his father who now came over across the fastemptying court, and said:

"Yes," replied Cowperwood, Sr., a little wearily. "I hope it comes out right. I saw Butler back there a little

So, Cowperwood thought, Butler was curious enough as to his fate to want to come here and watch him tried.

Shannon was his tool. Judge Payderson was his emissary, in a way. He, Cowperwood, might defeat him in

the matter of his daughter, but it was not so easy to defeat him here unless the jury should happen to take a

sympathetic attitude. They might convict him, and then Butler's Judge Payderson would have the privilege of

sentencing himgiving him the maximum sentence. That would not be so nicefive years! He cooled a

little as he thought of it, but there was no use worrying about what had not yet happened. Steger came

forward and told him that his bail was now endedhad been the moment the jury left the roomand that he

was at this moment actually in the care of the sheriff, of whom he knewSheriff Adlai Jaspers. Unless he

were acquitted by the jury, Steger added, he would have to remain in the sheriff's care until an application for

"It would take all of five days, Frank," Steger said, "but Jaspers isn't a bad sort. He'd be reasonable. Of course

if we're lucky you won't have to visit him. You will have to go with this bailiff now, though. Then if things

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 consider you've been pretty badly treated, and I think I made that perfectly clear. I can reverse this

He and Cowperwood and the latter's father now stalked off with the sheriff's subordinatea small man by

the name of "Eddie" Zanders, who had approached to take charge. They entered a small room called the pen

at the back of the court, where all those on trial whose liberty had been forfeited by the jury's leaving the

room had to wait pending its return. It was a dreary, highceiled, foursquare place, with a window looking

out into Chestnut Street, and a second door leading off into somewhereone had no idea where. It was

dingy, with a worn wooden floor, some heavy, plain, wooden benches lining the four sides, no pictures or

ornaments of any kind. A single twoarm gaspipe descended from the center of the ceiling. It was

permeated by a peculiarly stale and pungent odor, obviously redolent of all the flotsam and jetsam of

lifecriminal and innocentthat had stood or sat in here from time to time, waiting patiently to learn what

Cowperwood was, of course, disgusted; but he was too selfreliant and capable to show it. All his life he had

been immaculate, almost fastidious in his care of himself. Here he was coming, perforce, in contact with a

form of life which jarred upon him greatly. Steger, who was beside him, made some comforting, explanatory,

"Not as nice as it might be," he said, "but you won't mind waiting a little while. The jury won't be long, I

"That may not help me," he replied, walking to the window. Afterward he added: "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.

Meanwhile the great argument had been begun in the juryroom, and all the points that had been meditatively

It is amazingly interesting to see how a jury will waver and speculate in a case like thishow curious and

uncertain is the process by which it makes up its socalled mind. Socalled truth is a nebulous thing at best;

facts are capable of such curious inversion and interpretation, honest and otherwise. The jury had a strongly

Juries reach not so much definite conclusions as verdicts, in a curious fashion and for curious reasons. Very

often a jury will have concluded little so far as its individual members are concerned and yet it will have

reached a verdict. The matter of time, as all lawyers know, plays a part in this. Juries, speaking of the

members collectively and frequently individually, object to the amount of time it takes to decide a case. They

do not enjoy sitting and deliberating over a problem unless it is tremendously fascinating. The ramifications

or the mystery of a syllogism can become a weariness and a bore. The juryroom itself may and frequently

On the other hand, no jury contemplates a disagreement with any degree of satisfaction. There is something

so inherently constructive in the human mind that to leave a problem unsolved is plain misery. It haunts the

average individual like any other important task left unfinished. Men in a juryroom, like those scientifically

demonstrated atoms of a crystal which scientists and philosophers love to speculate upon, like finally to

arrange themselves into an orderly and artistic whole, to present a compact, intellectual front, to be whatever

they have set out to be, properly and rightly a compact, sensible jury. One sees this same instinct

magnificently displayed in every other phase of naturein the drifting of seawood to the Sargasso Sea, in

the geometric interrelation of airbubbles on the surface of still water, in the marvelous unreasoned

architecture of so many insects and atomic forms which make up the substance and the texture of this world.

It would seem as though the physical substance of lifethis apparition of form which the eye detects and

calls real were shot through with some vast subtlety that loves order, that is order. The atoms of our socalled

being, in spite of our socalled reasonthe dreams of a moodknow where to go and what to do. They

represent an order, a wisdom, a willing that is not of us. They build orderly in spite of us. So the

subconscious spirit of a jury. At the same time, one does not forget the strange hypnotic effect of one

personality on another, the varying effects of varying types on each other, until a solutionto use the word

in its purely chemical senseis reached. In a juryroom the thought or determination of one or two or three

men, if it be definite enough, is likely to pervade the whole room and conquer the reason or the opposition of

the majority. One man "standing out" for the definite thought that is in him is apt to become either the

triumphant leader of a pliant mass or the brutally battered target of a flaming, concentrated intellectual fire.

Men despise dull opposition that is without reason. In a juryroom, of all places, a man is expected to give a

reason for the faith that is in himif one is demanded. It will not do to say, "I cannot agree." Jurors have

been known to fight. Bitter antagonisms lasting for years have been generated in these close quarters.

Recalcitrant jurors have been hounded commercially in their local spheres for their unreasoned oppositions or

After reaching the conclusion that Cowperwood unquestionably deserved some punishment, there was

wrangling as to whether the verdict should be guilty on all four counts, as charged in the indictment. Since

they did not understand how to differentiate between the various charges very well, they decided it should be

on all four, and a recommendation to mercy added. Afterward this last was eliminated, however; either he

was guilty or he was not. The judge could see as well as they could all the extenuating

circumstancesperhaps better. Why tie his hands? As a rule no attention was paid to such recommendations,

So, finally, at ten minutes after twelve that night, they were ready to return a verdict; and Judge Payderson,

who, because of his interest in the case and the fact that he lived not so far away, had decided to wait up this

long, was recalled. Steger and Cowperwood were sent for. The courtroom was fully lighted. The bailiff, the

clerk, and the stenographer were there. The jury filed in, and Cowperwood, with Steger at his right, took his

position at the gate which gave into the railed space where prisoners always stand to hear the verdict and

listen to any commentary of the judge. He was accompanied by his father, who was very nervous.

For the first time in his life he felt as though he were walking in his sleep. Was this the real Frank

Cowperwood of two months beforeso wealthy, 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 solemnly before them; and here now was Judge Payderson, mounting the steps of

his rostrum, his frizzled hair standing out in a strange, attractive way, his familiar bailiff rapping for order. He

did not look at Cowperwoodit would not be courteous but at the jury, who gazed at him in return. At the

words of the clerk, "Gentlemen of the jury, have you agreed upon a verdict?" the foreman spoke up, "We

How had they come to do this? Because he had taken a check for sixty thousand 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 the money

that had passed back and forth between him and George W. Stener? Nothing, nothing! A mere bagatelle in its

way; and yet here it had risen up, this miserable, insignificant check, and become a mountain of opposition, a

stone wall, a prisonwall barring his further progress. It was astonishing. He looked around him at the

courtroom. How large and bare and cold it was! Still he was Frank A. Cowperwood. Why should he let such

queer thoughts disturb him? His fight for freedom and privilege and restitution was not over yet. Good

heavens! It had only begun. In five 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 an additional fight. He was not down

yet. He would win his liberty. This jury was all wrong. A higher court would say so. It would reverse their

verdict, and he knew it. He turned to Steger, where the latter was having the clerk poll the jury, in the hope

So it went through the whole jury. All the men answered firmly and clearly, though Steger thought it might

barely be possible that one would have changed his mind. The judge thanked them and told them that in view

of their long services this night, they were dismissed for the term. The only thing remaining to be done now

was for Steger to persuade Judge Payderson to grant a stay of sentence pending the hearing of a motion by

The Judge looked at Cowperwood very curiously as Steger made this request in proper form, and owing to

the importance of the case and the feeling he had that the Supreme Court might very readily grant a certificate

of reasonable doubt in this case, he agreed. There was nothing left, therefore, but for Cowperwood to return

at this late hour with the deputy sheriff to the county jail, where he must now remain for five days at

The jail in question, which was known locally as Moyamensing Prison, was located at Tenth and Reed

Streets, and from an architectural and artistic point of view was not actually displeasing to the eye. It

consisted of a central portionprison, residence for the sheriff or what you willthree stories high, with a

battlemented cornice and a round battlemented tower about onethird as high as the central portion itself, and

two wings, each two stories high, with battlemented turrets at either end, giving it a highly castellated and

consequently, from the American point of view, a very prisonlike appearance. The facade of the prison,

which was not more than thirtyfive feet high for the central portion, nor more than twentyfive feet for the

wings, was set back at least 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 of twenty feet high. The structure was not severely prisonlike,

for the central portion was pierced by rather large, unbarred apertures hung on the two upper stories with

curtains, and giving the whole front a rather pleasant and residential air. The wing to the right, as one stood

looking in from the street, was the section known as the county jail proper, and was devoted to the care of

prisoners serving shortterm sentences on some judicial order. The wing to the left was devoted exclusively

to the care and control of untried prisoners. The whole building was built of a smooth, lightcolored stone,

which on a snowy night like this, with the few lamps that were used in it glowing feebly in the dark,

It was a rough and blowy night when Cowperwood started for this institution under duress. The wind was

driving the snow before it in curious, interesting whirls. Eddie Zanders, the sheriff's deputy on guard at the

court of Quarter Sessions, accompanied him and his father and Steger. Zanders was a little man, dark, with a

short, stubby mustache, and a shrewd though not highly intelligent eye. He was anxious first to uphold his

dignity as a deputy sheriff, which was a very important position in his estimation, and next to turn an honest

penny if he could. He knew little save the details of his small world, which consisted of accompanying

prisoners to and from the courts and the jails, and seeing that they did not get away. He was not unfriendly to

a particular type of prisonerthe welltodo or moderately prosperousfor he had long since learned that

it paid to be so. Tonight he offered a few sociable suggestionsviz., that it was rather rough, that the jail

was not so far but that they could walk, and that Sheriff Jaspers would, in all likelihood, be around or could

be aroused. Cowperwood scarcely heard. He was thinking of his mother and his wife and of Aileen.

When the jail was reached he was led to the central portion, as it was here that the sheriff, Adlai Jaspers, had

his private office. Jaspers had recently been elected to office, and was inclined to conform to all outward

appearances, in so far as the proper conduct of his office was concerned, without in reality inwardly

conforming. Thus it was generally known among the politicians that one way he had of fattening his rather

lean salary was to rent private rooms and grant special privileges to prisoners who had the money to pay for

the same. Other sheriffs had done it before him. In fact, when Jaspers was inducted into office, several

prisoners were already enjoying these privileges, and it was not a part of 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 portion of the jail,

where were his own private living quarters. They were unbarred, and not at all celllike. There was no

particular danger of escape, for a guard stood always at his private door instructed "to keep an eye" on the

general movements of all the inmates. A prisoner so accommodated was in many respects quite a free person.

His meals were served to him in his room, if he wished. He could read or play cards, or receive guests; and if

he had any favorite musical instrument, that was not denied him. There was just one rule that had to be

complied with. If he were a public character, and any newspaper men called, he had to be brought

downstairs into the private interviewing room in order that they might not know that he was not confined in

Nearly all of these facts had been brought to Cowperwood's attention beforehand by Steger; but for all that,

when he crossed the threshold of the jail a peculiar sensation of strangeness and defeat came over him. He

and his party were conducted to a little office to the left of the entrance, where were only a desk and a chair,

dimly lighted by a lowburning gasjet. Sheriff Jaspers, rotund and ruddy, met them, greeting them in quite a

"A bad night, isn't it?" observed Jaspers, turning up the gas and preparing to go through the routine of

registering his prisoner. Steger came over and held a short, private conversation with him in his corner, over

"Oh, certainly, certainly! That's all right, Mr. Steger, to be sure! Why, certainly!"

Cowperwood, eyeing the fat sheriff from his position, understood what it was all about. He had regained

completely his critical attitude, his cool, intellectual poise. So this was the jail, and this was the fat mediocrity

of a sheriff who was to take care of him. Very good. He would make the best of it. He wondered whether he

was to be searchedprisoners usually werebut he soon discovered that he was not to be.

"That's all right, Mr. Cowperwood," said Jaspers, getting up. "I guess I can make you comfortable, after a

fashion. We're not running a hotel here, as you know"he chuckled to himself"but I guess I can make you

comfortable. John," he called to a sleepy factotum, who appeared from another room, rubbing his eyes, "is

John disappeared and returned, while Steger explained to Cowperwood that anything he wanted in the way of

clothing, etc., could be brought in. Steger himself would stop round next morning and confer with him, as

would any of the members of Cowperwood's family whom he wished to see. Cowperwood immediately

explained to his father his desire for as little of this as possible. Joseph or Edward might come in the morning

and bring a grip full of underwear, etc.; but as for the others, let them wait until he got out or had to remain

permanently. He did think of writing Aileen, cautioning her to do nothing; but the sheriff now beckoned, and

he quietly followed. Accompanied by his father and Steger, he ascended to his new room.

It was a simple, whitewalled chamber fifteen by twenty feet in size, rather highceiled, supplied with a

highbacked, yellow wooden bed, a yellow bureau, a small imitationcherry table, three very ordinary

caneseated chairs with carved hickoryrod backs, cherrystained also, and a washstand of yellowstained

wood to match the bed, containing a washbasin, a pitcher, a soapdish, uncovered, and a small, cheap,

pinkflowered tooth and shaving brush mug, which did not match the other ware and which probably cost ten

cents. The value of this room to Sheriff Jaspers was what he could get for it in cases like thistwentyfive

Cowperwood walked briskly to the window, which gave out on the lawn in front, now embedded in snow,

and said he thought this was all right. Both his father and Steger were willing and anxious to confer with him

"Let Ed bring in some fresh linen in the morning and a couple of suits of 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 other

capacities. "Tell Lillian not to worry. I'm all right. I'd rather she would not come here so long as I'm going to

be out in five days. If I'm not, it will be time enough then. Kiss the kids for me." And he smiled

After his unfulfilled predictions in regard to the result of this preliminary trial Steger was almost afraid to

suggest confidently what the State Supreme Court would or would not do; but he had to say something.

"I don't think you need worry about what the outcome of my appeal will be, Frank. I'll get a certificate of

reasonable doubt, and that's as good as a stay of two months, perhaps longer. I don't suppose the bail will be

more than thirty thousand dollars at the outside. You'll be out again in five or six days, whatever happens."

Cowperwood said that he hoped so, and suggested that they drop matters for the night. After a few fruitless

parleys his father and Steger finally said good night, leaving him to his own private reflections. He was tired,

however, and throwing off his clothes, tucked himself in his mediocre bed, and was soon fast asleep.

Say what one will about prison life in general, modify it ever so much by special chambers, obsequious

turnkeys, a general tendency to make one as comfortable as possible, a jail is a jail, and there is no getting

away from that. Cowperwood, in a room which was not in any way inferior to that of the ordinary

boardinghouse, was nevertheless conscious of the character of that section of this real prison which was not

yet his portion. He knew that there were cells there, probably greasy and smelly and vermininfested, and

that they were enclosed by heavy iron bars, which would have as readily clanked on him as on those who

were now therein incarcerated if he had not had the price to pay for something better. So much for the alleged

equality of man, he thought, which gave to 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, denied the more comfortable things which money would buy.

The morning after the trial, on waking, he stirred curiously, and then it suddenly came to him that he was no

longer in the free and comfortable atmosphere of his own bedroom, but in a jailcell, or rather its very

comfortable substitute, a sheriff's rented bedroom. He got up and looked out the window. The ground outside

and Passayunk Avenue were white with snow. Some wagons were silently lumbering by. A few

Philadelphians were visible here and there, going to and fro on morning errands. He began to think at once

what he must do, how he must act to carry on his buiness, to rehabilitate himself; and as he did so he dressed

and pulled the bellcord, which had been indicated to him, and which would bring him an attendant who

would build him a fire and later bring 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 brought him his breakfast, which was anything but prison fare, though poor enough at

After that he was compelled to wait in patience several hours, in spite of the sheriff's assumption of solicitous

interest, before his brother Edward was admitted with his clothes. An attendant, for a consideration, brought

him the morning papers, and these, except for the financial news, he read indifferently. Late in the afternoon

Steger arrived, saying he had been busy having certain proceedings postponed, but that he had arranged with

the sheriff for Cowperwood to be permitted to see such of those as had important business with him.

By this time, Cowperwood had written Aileen under no circumstances to try to see him, as he would be out

by the tenth, and that either that day, or shortly after, they would meet. As he knew, she wanted greatly to see

him, but he had reason to believe she was under surveillance by detectives employed by her father. This was

not true, but it was preying on her fancy, and combined with some derogatory remarks dropped by Owen and

Callum at the dinner table recently, had proved almost too much for her fiery disposition. But, because of

Cowperwood's letter reaching her at the Calligans', she made no move until she read on the morning of the

tenth that Cowperwood's plea for a certificate of reasonable doubt had been 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 to do,

and that was to teach her father that she could get along without him 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 some

additional cash of her ownperhaps three hundred and fifty dollars in all. This she thought would be

sufficient to see her to the end of her adventure, or at least until she could make some other arrangement for

her personal wellbeing. From what she knew of the feeling of her family for 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 to

let her alone and make peace with her. She was determined to try it, anyhow, and immediately sent word to

Cowperwood that she was going to the Calligans and would welcome him to freedom.

In a way, Cowperwood was rather gratified by Aileen's message, for he felt that his present plight, bitter as it

was, was largely due to Butler's opposition and he felt no compunction in striking him through his daughter.

His former feeling as to the wisdom of not enraging Butler had proved rather futile, he thought, and since the

old man could not be placated it might be just as well to have Aileen demonstrate to him that she was not

without resources of her own and could live without him. She might force him to change his attitude toward

her and possibly even to modify some of his political machinations against him, Cowperwood. Any port in a

stormand besides, he had now really nothing to lose, and instinct told him that her move was likely to

She took her jewels, some underwear, a couple of dresses which she thought would be serviceable, and a few

other things, and packed them in the most capacious portmanteau she had. Shoes and stockings came into

consideration, and, despite her efforts, she found that she could not get in all that she wished. Her nicest hat,

which she was determined to take, 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, and found the three hundred and fifty dollars and put it in her purse. It wasn't much, as

Aileen could herself see, but Cowperwood would help her. If he did not arrange to take care of her, and her

father would not relent, she would have to get something to do. Little she knew of the steely face the world

presents to those who have not been practically trained and are not economically efficient. She did not

understand the bitter reaches of life at all. She waited, humming for effect, until she heard 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

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

To insure its discovery, she picked up Butler's heavyrimmed spectacles which he employed always when

reading, and laid them on it. For a moment she felt very strange, somewhat like a thief a new sensation for

her. She even felt a momentary sense of ingratitude coupled with pain. Perhaps she was doing wrong. Her

father had been very good to her. Her mother would feel so very bad. Norah would be sorry, and Callum and

Owen. Still, they did not understand her any more. She was resentful of her father's attitude. He might have

seen what the point was; but no, he was too old, too hidebound in religion and conventional ideashe never

would. He might never let her come back. Very well, she would get along somehow. She would show him.

She might get a place as a schoolteacher, and live with the Calligans a long while, if necessary, or teach

She stole downstairs and out into the vestibule, opening the outer door and looking out into the street. The

lamps were already flaring in the dark, and a cool wind was blowing. Her portmanteau was heavy, but she

was quite strong. She walked briskly to the corner, which was some fifty feet away, and turned south,

walking rather nervously and irritably, for this was a new experience for her, and it all seemed so undignified,

so unlike anything she was accustomed to doing. She put her bag down on a street corner, finally, to rest. A

boy whistling in the distance attracted her attention, and as he drew near she called to him: "Boy! Oh, boy!"

In due time she arrived at the Calligans', and amid much excitement was installed in the bosom of her new

home. She took her situation with much nonchalance, once she was properly placed, distributing her toilet

articles and those of personal wear with quiet care. The fact that she was no longer to have the services of

Kathleen, the maid who had served her and her mother and Norah jointly, was odd, though not trying. She

scarcely felt that she had parted from these luxuries permanently, and so made herself comfortable.

Mamie Calligan and her mother were adoring slaveys, so she was not entirely out of the atmosphere which

Meanwhile, in the Butler home the family was assembling for dinner. Mrs. Butler was sitting in rotund

complacency at the foot of the table, her gray hair combed straight back from her round, shiny forehead. She

had on a darkgray silk dress, trimmed with grayandwhite striped ribbon. It suited her florid temperament

admirably. Aileen had dictated her mother's choice, and had seen that it had been properly made. Norah was

refreshingly youthful in a palegreen dress, with redvelvet cuffs and collar. She looked young, slender, gay.

Her eyes, complexion and hair were fresh and healthy. She was trifling with a string of coral beads which her

"Oh, look, Callum," she said to her brother opposite her, who was drumming idly on the table with his knife

"Mama does more for you than I would. You know what you'd get from me, don't you?"

He looked at her teasingly. For answer Norah made a face at him. Just then Owen came in and took his place

"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've had my fill of work for once."

"No real trouble, mother," he replied. "Just everythingducks and drakes, 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 was referring to the family grocer"brought us the last of his beans. You must

"Sure, beans'll fix it, whatever it is, Owen," joked Callum. "Mother's got the answer."

"They're fine, I'd have ye know," replied Mrs. Butler, quite unconscious of the joke.

"No doubt of it, mother," replied Callum. "Real brainfood. Let's feed some to Norah."

"You'd better eat some yourself, smarty. My, but you're gay! I suppose you're going out to see somebody.

"Right you are, Norah. Smart girl, you. Five or six. Ten to fifteen minutes each. I'd call on you if you were

"You would if you got the chance," mocked Norah. "I'd have you know I wouldn't let you. I'd feel very bad if

"Children, children!" interpolated Mrs. Butler, calmly, looking about for old John, the servant. "You'll be

losin' your tempers in a minute. Hush now. Here comes your father. Where's Aileen?"

John, the servant, appeared bearing a platter of beans among other things, and Mrs. Butler asked him to send

"It's gettin' colder, I'm thinkin'," said Butler, by way of conversation, and eyeing Aileen's empty chair. She

would come soon nowhis heavy problem. He had been very tactful these last two monthsavoiding any

Old John began to offer the various dishes in order; but when all had been served Aileen had not yet come.

"See where Aileen is, John," observed Mrs. Butler, interestedly. "The meal will be gettin' cold."

"Sure she must be somewhere," commented Mrs. Butler, only slightly perplexed. "She'll be comin', though,

The conversation drifted from a new waterworks that was being planned to the new city hall, then nearing

completion; Cowperwood's financial and social troubles, and the state of the stock market generally; a new

goldmine in Arizona; the departure of Mrs. Mollenhauer the following Tuesday for Europe, with

appropriate comments by Norah and Callum; and a Christmas ball that was going to be given for charity.

The meal was over, and Mrs. Butler strolled up to Aileen's room to see why she had not come down to

dinner. Butler entered his den, wishing so much that he could take his wife into his confidence concerning all

that was 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 could she mean by writing him? A sense of the untoward came to him,

and he tore it open slowly, and, putting on his glasses, contemplated it solemnly.

So Aileen was gone. The old man stared at each word as if it had been written in fire. She said she had not

gone with Cowperwood. It was possible, just the same, that he had run away from Philadelphia and taken her

with him. This was the last straw. This ended it. Aileen lured away from hometo whereto what? Butler

could scarcely believe, though, that Cowperwood had tempted her to do this. He had too much at stake; it

would involve his own and Butler's families. The papers would be certain to get it quickly. He got up,

crumpling the paper in his hand, and turned about at a noise. His wife was coming in. He pulled himself

"Aileen's not in her room," she said, curiously. "She didn't say anything to you about going out, did she?"

"No," he replied, truthfully, wondering how soon he should have to tell his wife.

"That's odd," observed Mrs. Butler, doubtfully. "She must have gone out after somethin'. It's a wonder she

Butler gave no sign. He dared not. "She'll be back," he said, more in order 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 out the letter and

read it again. The girl was crazy. She was doing an absolutely wild, inhuman, senseless thing. Where could

she go, except to Cowperwood? She was on the verge of a public scandal, and this would produce 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 to himthreaten, cajole, actually destroy him, if necessary. Aileen must come back. She need not

go to Europe, perhaps, but she must come back and behave herself at least until Cowperwood could

legitimately marry her. That was all he could expect now. She would have to wait, and some day perhaps he

could bring himself to accept her wretched proposition. Horrible thought! It would kill her mother, disgrace

Arriving at the Cowperwood home he was shown into the receptionroom. Cowperwood at the time was in

his den looking over some private papers. When the name of Butler was announced he immediately went

downstairs. It was characteristic of the man that the announcement of Butler's presence created no stir in

him whatsoever. So Butler had come. That meant, 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. That spiritual content of him which we call life hardened to the texture of

steel. He recalled that although he had told his wife and his father that the politicians, of whom Butler was

one, were trying to make a scapegoat of him, Butler, nevertheless, was not considered to be wholly alienated

as a friend, and civility must prevail. He would like very much to placate him if he could, to talk out the hard

facts of life in a quiet and friendly way. But this matter of Aileen had to be adjusted now once and for all.

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 effective as possible. He moved the least bit when he heard Cowperwood's

"Good evening, Mr. Butler," said Cowperwood, cheerfully, when he saw him, extending his hand. "What can

"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 daughter I'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 for reflection. "What can I tell you about her?"

"Ye can tell me where she is, that I know. And ye can make her come back to her home, where she belongs.

It was bad fortune that ever brought ye across my doorstep; but I'll not bandy words with ye here. Ye'll tell

me where my daughter is, and ye'll leave her alone from now, or I'll" The old man's fists closed like a vise,

and his chest heaved with suppressed rage. "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 with ye. I want my daughter."

"Listen, Mr. Butler," said Cowperwood, quite calmly, relishing the situation for the sheer sense of superiority

it gave him. "I want to be perfectly frank with you, if you will let me. I may know where your daughter is,

and I may not. I may wish to tell you, and I may not. She may not wish me to. But unless you wish to talk

with me in a civil way there is no need of our going on any further. You are privileged to do what you like.

Butler looked at his former protege in utter astonishment. He had never before in all his experience come up

against a more ruthless typesuave, bland, forceful, unterrified. This man had certainly come to him as a

sheep, and had turned out to be a ravening wolf. His incarceration had not put him in the least awe.

"I'll not come up to your room," Butler said, "and ye'll not get out of Philadelphy 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 make something

of it. Well, ye're not. It wasn't enough that ye come to me as a beggar, cravin' the help of me, and that I took

ye in and helped ye all I couldye had to steal my daughter from me in the bargain. If it wasn't for the girl's

mother and her sister and her brothersdacenter men than ever ye'll know how to beI'd brain ye where ye

stand. Takin' a young, innocent girl and makin' an evil woman out of her, and ye a married man! It's a God's

blessin' for ye that it's me, and not one of me sons, that's here talkin' to ye, or ye wouldn't be alive to say what

"I'm sorry, Mr. Butler," replied Cowperwood, quietly. "I'm willing to explain, but you won't let me. I'm not

planning to run away with your daughter, nor to leave Philadelphia. You ought to know me well enough to

know that I'm not contemplating anything of that kind; my interests are too large. You and I are practical

men. We ought to be able to talk this matter over together and reach an understanding. I thought once of

coming to you and explaining this; but I was quite sure you wouldn't listen to me. Now that you are here I

would like to talk to you. If you will come up to my room I will be glad tootherwise not. Won't you come

Butler saw that Cowperwood had the advantage. He might as well go up. Otherwise it was plain he would get

Cowperwood led the way quite amicably, and, having entered his private office, closed the door behind him.

"We ought to be able to talk this matter over and reach an understanding," he said again, when they were in

the room and he had closed the door. "I am not as bad as you think, though I know I appear very bad." Butler

stared at him in contempt. "I love your daughter, and she loves me. I know you are asking yourself how I can

do this while I am still married; but I assure you I can, and that I do. I am not happily married. I had expected,

if this panic hadn't come along, to arrange with my wife for a divorce and marry Aileen. My intentions are

perfectly good. The situation which you can complain of, of course, is the one you encountered a few weeks

ago. It was indiscreet, but it was entirely human. Your daughter does not complainshe understands." At the

mention of his daughter in this connection Butler flushed with rage and 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."

"That doesn't prove that either of us is right or wrong. In my judgment the present end justifies the means.

The end I have in view is to marry Aileen. If I can possibly pull myself out of this financial scrape that I am

in I will do so. Of course, I would like to have your consent for thatso would Aileen; but if we can't, we

can't." (Cowperwood was thinking that while this might not have a very soothing effect on the old

contractor's point of view, nevertheless it must make some appeal to his sense of the possible or necessary.

Aileen's present situation was quite unsatisfactory without marriage in view. And even if he, Cowperwood,

was a convicted embezzler in the eyes of the public, that did not make him so. He might get free and restore

himself would certainlyand Aileen ought to be glad to marry him if she could under the circumstances.

He did not quite grasp the depth of Butler's religious and moral prejudices.) "Lately," he went on, "you have

been doing all you can, as I understand it, to pull me down, on account of Aileen, I suppose; but that is

"Ye'd like me to help ye do that, I suppose?" suggested Butler, with infinite disgust and patience.

"I want to marry Aileen," Cowperwood repeated, for emphasis' sake. "She wants to marry me. Under the

circumstances, however you may feel, you can have no real objection to my doing that, I am sure; yet you go

on fighting memaking it hard for me to do what you really know ought to be done."

"Ye're a scoundrel," said Butler, seeing through his motives quite clearly. "Ye're a sharper, to my way of

thinkin', and it's no child of mine I want connected with ye. I'm not sayin', seein' that things are as they are,

that if ye were a free man it wouldn't be better that she should marry ye. It's the one dacent thing ye could

doif ye would, which I doubt. But that's nayther here nor there now. What can ye want with 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 out of jail. She'll only be an added expense to ye, and ye'll be wantin' all the money ye have

for other things, I'm thinkin'. Why should ye want to be takin' her away from a dacent home and makin'

something out of her that ye'd be ashamed to marry if you could? The laist ye could do, if ye were any kind of

a man at all, and had any of that thing that ye're plased to call love, would be to lave her at home and keep her

as respectable as possible. Mind ye, I'm not thinkin' she isn't ten thousand times too good for ye, whatever

ye've made of her. But if ye had any sinse of dacency left, ye wouldn't let her shame her family and break her

old mother's heart, and that for no purpose except to make her worse than she is already. What good can ye

get out of it, now? What good can ye expect to come of it? Be hivins, if ye had any sinse at all I should think

ye could see that for yerself. Ye're only addin' to your troubles, not takin' away from themand she'll not

He stopped, rather astonished that he should have been drawn into an argument. His contempt for this man

was so great that he could scarcely 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

"To tell you the truth, Mr. Butler," he said, "I did not want Aileen to leave your home at all; and she will tell

you so, if you ever talk to her about it. I did my best to persuade her not to, and when she insisted on going

the only thing I could do was to be sure she would be comfortable wherever she went. She was greatly

outraged to think you should have put detectives on her trail. That, and the fact that you wanted to send her

away somewhere against her will, was the principal reasons for her leaving. I assure you I did not want her to

go. I think you forget sometimes, Mr. Butler, that Aileen is a grown woman, and that she has a will of her

own. You think I control her to her great disadvantage. As a matter of fact, I am very much in love with her,

and have been for three or four years; and if you know anything about love you know that it doesn't always

mean control. I'm not doing Aileen any injustice when I say that she has had as much influence on me as I

have had on her. I love her, and that's the cause of all the trouble. You come and insist that I shall return your

daughter to you. As a matter of fact, I don't know whether I can or not. I don't know that she would go if I

wanted her to. She might turn on me and say that I didn't care for her any more. That is not true, and I would

not want her to feel that way. She is greatly hurt, as I told you, by what you did to her, and the fact that you

want her to leave Philadelphia. You can do as much to remedy that as I can. I could tell you where she is, but

I do not know that I want to. Certainly not until I know what your attitude toward her and this whole

He paused and looked calmly at the old contractor, who eyed him grimly in return.

"What proposition are ye talkin' about?" asked Butler, interested by the peculiar developments of this

argument. In spite of himself he was getting a slightly different angle on the whole situation. The scene was

shifting to a certain extent. Cowperwood appeared to be reasonably sincere in the matter. His promises might

all be wrong, but perhaps he did love Aileen; and it was possible that he did intend to get a divorce from his

wife some time and marry her. Divorce, as Butler knew, was against the rules of the Catholic Church, which

he so much revered. The laws of God and any sense of decency commanded that Cowperwood should not

desert his wife and children and take up with another womannot even Aileen, in order to save her. It was a

criminal thing to plan, sociologically speaking, and showed what a villain Cowperwood inherently was; but,

nevertheless, Cowperwood was not a Catholic, his views of life were not the same as his own, Butler's, and

besides and worst of all (no doubt due in part to Aileen's own temperament), he had compromised her

situation very materially. She might not easily be restored to a sense of of the normal and decent, and so the

matter was worth taking into thought. Butler knew that ultimately he could not countenance any such

thingcertainly not, and keep his faith with the Churchbut he was human enough none the less to

consider it. Besides, he wanted Aileen to come back; and Aileen from now on, he knew, would have some

"Well, it's simple enough," replied Cowperwood. "I should like to have you withdraw your opposition to

Aileen's remaining in Philadelphia, for one thing; and for another, I should like you to stop your attacks on

me." Cowperwood smiled in an ingratiating way. He hoped really to placate Butler in part by his generous

attitude throughout this procedure. "I can't make you do that, of course, unless you want to. I merely bring it

up, Mr. Butler, because I am sure that if it hadn't been for Aileen you would not have taken the course you

have taken toward me. I understood you received an anonymous letter, and that afternoon you called your

loan with me. Since then I have heard from one source and another that you were strongly against me, and I

merely wish to say that I wish you wouldn't be. I am not guilty of embezzling any sixty thousand dollars, and

you know it. My intentions were of the best. I did not think I was going to fail at the time I used those

certificates, and if it hadn't been for several other loans that were called I would have gone on to the end of

the month and put them back in time, as I always had. I have always valued your friendship very highly, and I

Butler looked at Cowperwood with shrewd, calculating eyes. The man had some merit, but much

unconscionable evil in him. Butler knew very well how he had taken the check, and a good many other things

in connection with it. The manner in which he had played his cards tonight was on a par with the way he

had run to him on the night of the fire. He was just shrewd and calculating and heartless.

"I'll make ye no promise," he said. "Tell me where my daughter is, and I'll think the matter over. Ye have no

"That's quite all right," replied Cowperwood. "That's all I can expect. But what about Aileen? Do you expect

"Not if she settles down and behaves herself: but there must be an end of this between you and her. She's

disgracin' her family and ruinin' her soul in the bargain. And that's what you are doin' with yours. It'll be time

enough to talk about anything else when you're a free man. More than that I'll not promise."

Cowperwood, satisfied that this move on Aileen's part had done her a real service if it had not aided him

especially, was convinced that it would be a good move for her to return to her home at once. He could not

tell how his appeal to the State Supreme Court would eventuate. His motion for a new trial which was now to

be made under the privilege of the certificate of reasonable doubt might not be granted, in which case he

would have to serve a term in the penitentiary. If he were compelled to go to the penitentiary she would be

saferbetter off in the bosom of her family. His own hands were going to be exceedingly full for the next

two months until he knew how his appeal was coming out. And after thatwell, after that he would fight on,

During all the time that Cowperwood had been arguing his case in this fashion he had been thinking how he

could adjust this compromise so as to retain the affection of Aileen and not offend her sensibilities by urging

her to return. He knew that she would not agree to give up seeing him, and he was not willing that she should.

Unless he had a good and sufficient reason, he would be playing a wretched part by telling Butler where she

was. He did not intend to do so until he saw exactly how to do itthe way that would make it most

acceptable to Aileen. He knew that she would not long be happy where she was. Her flight was due in part to

Butler's intense opposition to himself and in part to his determination to make her leave Philadelphia and

behave; but this last was now in part obviated. Butler, in spite of his words, was no longer a stern Nemesis.

He was a melting manvery anxious to find his daughter, very willing to forgive her. He was whipped,

literally beaten, at his own game, and Cowperwood could see it in the old man's eyes. If he himself could talk

to Aileen personally and explain just how things were, he felt sure he could make her see that it would be to

their mutual advantage, for the present at least, to have the matter amicably settled. The thing to do was to

make Butler wait somewherehere, possiblywhile he went and talked to her. When she learned how

"The best thing that I can do under the circumstances," he said, after a time, "would be to see Aileen in two or

three days, and ask her what she wishes to do. I can explain the matter to her, and if she wants to go back, she

"Two or three days!" exclaimed Butler, irritably. "Two or three fiddlesticks! She must come home tonight.

Her mother doesn't know she's left the place yet. Tonight is the time! I'll go and fetch her meself tonight."

"No, that won't do," said Cowperwood. "I shall have to go myself. If you wish to wait here I will see what can

"Very well," grunted Butler, who was now walking up and down with his hands behind his back. "But for

Heaven's sake be quick about it. There's no time to lose." He was thinking of Mrs. Butler. Cowperwood

called the servant, ordered his runabout, and told George to see that his private office was not disturbed.

Then, as Butler strolled to and fro in this, to him, objectionable room, Cowperwood drove rapidly away.

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 confiding to Mamie and Mrs. Calligan some of her social experiences when the

"Miss Butler is here, I believe," he said. "Will you tell her that there is some one here from her father?"

Although Aileen had instructed that her presence here was not to be divulged even to the members of her

family the force of Cowperwood's presence and the mention of Butler's name cost Mrs. Calligan her presence

She stepped back, and Cowperwood promptly stepped in, taking off his hat with the air of one who was

satisfied that Aileen was there. "Say to her that I only want to speak to her for a few moments," he called, as

Mrs. Calligan went upstairs, raising his voice in the hope that Aileen might hear. She did, and came down

promptly. She was very much astonished to think that he should come so soon, and fancied, in her vanity,

that there must be great excitement in her home. She would have greatly grieved if there had not been.

The Calligans would have been pleased to hear, but Cowperwood was cautious. As she came down the stairs

he put his finger to his lips in sign for silence, and said, "This is Miss Butler, I believe."

"Yes," replied Aileen, with a secret smile. Her one desire was to kiss him. "What's the trouble darling?" she

"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't know yet, it seems, and your father is over at my place now, waiting for you.

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 Butler and his own views in the matter. Aileen's expression changed from time to time

as the various phases of the matter were put before her; but, persuaded by the clearness with which he put the

matter, and by his assurance that they could continue their relations as before uninterrupted, once this was

settled, she decided to return. In a way, her father's surrender was a great triumph. She made her farewells to

the Calligans, saying, with a smile, that they could not do without her at home, and that she would send for

her belongings later, and returned with Cowperwood to his own door. There he asked her to wait in the

"Well?" said Butler, turning on him when he opened the door, and not seeing Aileen.

"You'll find her outside in my runabout," observed Cowperwood. "You may use that if you choose. I will

Cowperwood called his servant to take charge of the vehicle, and Butler stalked solemnly out.

He had to admit to himself that the influence of Cowperwood over his daughter was deadly, and probably

permanent. The best he could do would be to keep her within the precincts of the home, where she might still,

possibly, be brought to her senses. He held a very guarded conversation with her on his way home, for fear

"Ye might have talked with me once more, Aileen," he said, "before ye left. 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. Mama won't think anything about it."

"It's a sore heart I have, Aileen. I hope ye'll think over your ways and do better. I'll not say anythin' more

Aileen returned to her room, decidedly triumphant in her mood for the moment, and things went on

apparently in the Butler household as before. But those who imagine that this defeat permanently altered the

In the meanwhile between the day of his temporary release and the hearing of his appeal which was two

months off, Cowperwood was going on doing his best to repair his shattered forces. He took up his work

where he left off; but the possibility of reorganizing his business was distinctly modified since his conviction.

Because of his action in trying to protect his largest creditors at the time of his failure, he fancied that once he

was free again, if ever he got free, his credit, other things being equal, would be good with those who could

help him mostsay, Cooke & Co., Clark & Co., Drexel & Co., and the Girard National Bankproviding

his personal reputation had not been too badly injured by his sentence. Fortunately for his own hopefulness of

mind, he failed fully to realize what a depressing effect a legal decision of this character, sound or otherwise,

His best friends in the financial world were by now convinced that his was a sinking ship. A student of

finance once observed that nothing is so sensitive as money, and the financial mind partakes largely of the

quality of the thing in which it deals. There was no use trying to do 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 the governor,

providing he lost his case before the Supreme Court and was actually sentenced to prison; but that was two

months off, or more, and they could not tell what the outcome of that would be. So Cowperwood's repeated

appeals for assistance, extension of credit, or the acceptance of some plan he had for his general

rehabilitation, were met with the kindly evasions of those who were doubtful. They would think it over. They

would see about it. Certain things were standing in the way. And so on, and so forth, through all the endless

excuses of those who do not care to act. In these days he went about the money world in his customary jaunty

way, greeting all those whom he had known there many years and pretending, when asked, to be very

hopeful, to be doing very well; but they did not believe him, and he really did not care whether they did or

not. His business was to persuade or overpersuade any one who could really be of assistance to him, and at

"Why, hello, Frank," his friends would call, on seeing him. "How are you getting on?"

"Fine! Fine!" he would reply, cheerfully. "Never better," and he would explain in a general way how his

affairs were being handled. He conveyed much of his own optimism to all those who knew him and were

In these days also, he and Steger were constantly to be met with in courts of law, for he was constantly being

reexamined in some petition in bankruptcy. They were heartbreaking days, but he did not flinch. He wanted

to stay in Philadelphia and fight the thing to a finishputting himself where he had been before the fire;

rehabilitating himself in the eyes of the public. He felt that he could do it, too, if he were not actually sent to

prison for a long term; and even then, so naturally optimistic was his mood, when he got out again. But, in so

One of the things militating against him was the continued opposition of Butler and the politicians.

Somehowno one could have said exactly whythe general political feeling was that the financier and the

former city treasurer would lose their appeals and eventually be sentenced together. Stener, in spite of his

original intention to plead guilty and take his punishment without comment, had been persuaded by some of

his political friends that it would be better for his future's sake to plead not guilty and claim that his offense

had been due to custom, rather than to admit his guilt outright and so seem not to have had any justification

whatsoever. This he did, but he was convicted nevertheless. For the sake of appearances, a trumpedup

Then, too, due to one whisper and another, and these originating with the girl who had written Butler and

Cowperwood's wife, there was at this time a growing volume of gossip relating to the alleged relations of

Cowperwood with Butler's daughter, Aileen. There had been a house in Tenth Street. It had been maintained

by Cowperwood for her. No wonder Butler was so vindictive. This, indeed, explained much. And even in the

practical, financial world, criticism was now rather against Cowperwood than his enemies. For, was it not a

fact, that at the inception of his career, he had been befriended by Butler? And what a way to reward that

friendship! His oldest and firmest admirers wagged their heads. For they sensed clearly that this was another

illustration of that innate "I satisfy myself" attitude which so regulated Cowperwood's conduct. He was a

strong man, surelyand a brilliant one. Never had Third Street seen a more pyrotechnic, and yet fascinating

and financially aggressive, and at the same time, conservative person. Yet might one not fairly tempt Nemesis

by a too great daring and egotism? Like Death, it loves a shining mark. He should not, perhaps, have seduced

Butler's daughter; unquestionably he should not have so boldly taken that check, especially after his quarrel

and break with Stener. He was a little too aggressive. Was it not questionable whetherwith such a

recordhe could be restored to his former place here? The bankers and business men who were closest to

But in so far as Cowperwood and his own attitude toward life was concerned, at this timethe feeling he

had"to satisfy myself" when combined with his love of beauty and love and women, still made him

ruthless and thoughtless. Even now, the beauty and delight of a girl like Aileen Butler were far more

important to him than the goodwill of fifty million people, if he could evade the necessity of having their

goodwill. Previous to the Chicago fire and the panic, his star had been so rapidly ascending that in the

helterskelter of great and favorable events he had scarcely taken thought of the social significance of the

thing he was doing. Youth and the joy of life were in his blood. He felt so young, so vigorous, so like new

grass looks and feels. The freshness of spring evenings was in him, and he did not care. After the crash, when

one might have imagined he would have seen the wisdom of relinquishing Aileen for the time being, anyhow,

he did not care to. She represented the best of the wonderful days that had gone before. She was a link

His worst anxiety was that if he were sent to the penitentiary, or adjudged a bankrupt, or both, he would

probably lose the privilege of a seat on 'change, and that would close to him the most distinguished avenue of

his prosperity here in Philadelphia for some time, if not forever. At present, because of his complications, his

seat had been attached as an asset, and he could not act. Edward and Joseph, almost the only employees he

could afford, were still acting for him in a small way; but the other members on 'change naturally suspected

his brothers as his agents, and any talk that they might raise of going into business for themselves merely

indicated to other brokers and bankers that Cowperwood was contemplating some concealed move which

would not necessarily be advantageous to his creditors, and against the law anyhow. Yet he must remain on

'change, whatever happened, potentially if not actively; and so in his quick mental searchings he hit upon the

idea that in order to forfend against the event of his being put into prison or thrown into bankruptcy, or both,

he ought to form a subsidiary silent partnership with some man who was or would be well liked on 'change,

Finally he hit upon a man who he thought would do. He did not amount to muchhad a small business; but

he was honest, and he liked Cowperwood. His name was WingateStephen Wingateand he was eking out

a not too robust existence in South Third Street as a broker. He was fortyfive years of age, of medium

height, fairly thickset, not at all unprepossessing, and rather intelligent and active, but not too forceful and

pushing in spirit. He really needed a man like Cowperwood to make him 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 times past

he had asked small favors of Cowperwoodthe use of small loans at a moderate rate of interest, tips, and so

forth; and Cowperwood, because he liked him and felt a little sorry for him, had granted them. Now Wingate

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 the time being would suspect him of being a hireling of Cowperwood's, and the latter

could depend on him to execute his orders to the letter. He sent for him and had a long conversation with him.

He told him just what the situation was, what he thought he could do for him as a partner, how much of his

"I'll be glad to do anything you say, Mr. Cowperwood," he assured the latter. "I know whatever happens that

you'll protect me, and there's nobody in the world I would rather work with or have greater respect for. This

storm will all blow over, and you'll be all right. We can try it, anyhow. If it don't work out you can see what

And so this relationship was tentatively entered into and Cowperwood began to act in a small way through

By the time the State Supreme Court came to pass upon Cowperwood's plea for a reversal of the lower court

and the granting of a new trial, the rumor of his connection with Aileen had spread far and wide. As has been

seen, it had done and was still doing him much damage. It confirmed the impression, which the politicians

had originally tried to create, that Cowperwood was the true criminal and Stener the victim. His

semilegitimate financial subtlety, backed indeed by his financial genius, but certainly on this account not

worse than that being practiced in peace and quiet and with much applause in many other quarterswas now

seen to be Machiavellian trickery of the most dangerous type. He had a wife and two children; and without

knowing what his real thoughts had been the fruitfully imaginative public jumped to the conclusion that he

had been on the verge of deserting them, divorcing Lillian, and marrying Aileen. This was criminal enough in

itself, from the conservative point of view; but when taken in connection with his financial record, his trial,

conviction, and general bankruptcy situation, the public was inclined to believe that he was all the politicians

said he was. He ought to be convicted. The Supreme Court ought not to grant his prayer for a new trial. It is

thus that our inmost thoughts and intentions burst at times via no known material agency into public thoughts.

People know, when they cannot apparently possibly know why they know. There is such a thing as

It reached, for one thing, the ears of the five judges of the State Supreme Court and of the Governor of the

During the four weeks Cowperwood had been free on a certificate of reasonable doubt both Harper Steger

and Dennis Shannon appeared before the judges of the State Supreme Court, and argued pro and con as to the

reasonableness of granting a new trial. Through his lawyer, Cowperwood made a learned appeal to the

Supreme Court judges, showing how he had been unfairly indicted in the first place, how there was no real

substantial evidence on which to base a charge of larceny or anything else. It took Steger two hours and ten

minutes to make his argument, and DistrictAttorney Shannon longer to make his reply, during which the

five judges on the bench, men of considerable legal experience but no great financial understanding, listened

with rapt attention. Three of them, Judges Smithson, Rainey, and Beckwith, men most amenable to the

political feeling of the time and the wishes of the bosses, were little interested in this story of Cowperwood's

transaction, particularly since his relations with Butler's daughter and Butler's consequent opposition to him

had come to them. They fancied that in a way they were considering the whole matter fairly and impartially;

but the manner in which Cowperwood had treated Butler was never out of their minds. Two of them, Judges

Marvin and Rafalsky, who were men of larger sympathies and understanding, but of no greater political

freedom, did feel that Cowperwood had been badly used thus far, but they did not see what they could do

about it. He had put himself in a most unsatisfactory position, politically and socially. They understood and

took into consideration his great financial and social losses which Steger described accurately; and one of

them, Judge Rafalsky, because of a similar event in his own life in so far as a girl was concerned, was

inclined to argue strongly against the conviction of Cowperwood; but, owing to his political connections and

obligations, he realized that it would not be wise politically to stand out against what was wanted. Still, when

he and Marvin learned that Judges Smithson, Rainey, and Beckwith were inclined to convict Cowperwood

without much argument, they decided to hand down a dissenting opinion. The point involved was a very

knotty one. Cowperwood might carry it to the Supreme Court of the United States on some fundamental

principle of liberty of action. Anyhow, other judges in other courts in Pennsylvania and elsewhere would be

inclined to examine the decision in this case, it was so important. The minority decided that it would not do

them any harm to hand down a dissenting opinion. The politicians would not mind as long as Cowperwood

was convictedwould like it better, in fact. It looked fairer. Besides, Marvin and Rafalsky did not care to be

included, if they could help it, with Smithson, Rainey, and Beckwith in a sweeping condemnation of

Cowperwood. So all five judges fancied they were considering the whole matter rather fairly and impartially,

as men will under such circumstances. Smithson, speaking for himself and Judges Rainey and Beckwith on

"The defendant, Frank A. Cowperwood, asks that the finding of the jury in the lower court (the State of

Cowperwood) be reversed and a new trial granted. This court cannot see that any substantial injustice

has been done the defendant. [Here followed a rather lengthy resume of the history of the case, in

which it was pointed out that the custom and precedent of the treasurer's office, to say nothing of

Cowperwood's easy method of doing business with the city treasury, could have nothing to do with

his responsibility for failure to observe both the spirit and the letter of the law.] The obtaining of

goods under color of legal process [went on Judge Smithson, speaking for the majority] may amount

to larceny. In the present case it was the province of the jury to ascertain the felonious intent. They

have settled that against the defendant as a question of fact, and the court cannot say that there was

not sufficient evidence to sustain the verdict. For what purpose did the defendant get the check? He

was upon the eve of failure. He had already hypothecated for his own debts the loan of the city

placed in his hands for salehe had unlawfully obtained five hundred thousand dollars in cash as

loans; and it is reasonable to suppose that he could obtain nothing more from the city treasury by any

ordinary means. Then it is that he goes there, and, by means of a falsehood implied if not actual,

obtains sixty thousand dollars 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 was denied by the majority.

"It is plain from the evidence in the case that Mr. Cowperwood did not receive the check without authority as

agent to do so, and it has not been clearly demonstrated that within his capacity as agent he did not perform

or intend to perform the full measure of the obligation which the receipt of this check implied. It was shown

in the trial that as a matter of policy it was understood that purchases for the sinkingfund should not be

known or understood in the market or by the public in that light, and that Mr. Cowperwood as agent was to

have an absolutely free hand in the disposal of his assets and liabilities so long as the ultimate result was

satisfactory. There was no particular time when the loan was to be bought, nor was there any particular

amount mentioned at any time to be purchased. Unless the defendant intended at the time he received the

check fraudulently to appropriate it he could not be convicted even on the first count. The verdict of the jury

does not establish this fact; the evidence does not show conclusively that it could be established; and the

same jury, upon three other counts, found the defendant guilty without the semblance of shadow of evidence.

How can we say that their conclusions upon the first count are unerring when they so palpably erred on the

other counts? It is the opinion of the minority that the verdict of the jury in charging larceny on the first count

is not valid, and that that verdict should be set aside and a new trial granted."

Judge Rafalsky, a meditative and yet practical man of Jewish extraction but peculiarly American appearance,

felt called upon to write a third opinion which should especially reflect his own cogitation and be a criticism

on the majority as well as a slight variation from and addition to the points on which he agreed with Judge

Marvin. It was a knotty question, this, of Cowperwood's guilt, and, aside from the political necessity of

convicting him, nowhere was it more clearly shown than in these varying opinions of the superior court.

Judge Rafalsky held, for instance, that if a crime had been committed at all, it was not that known as larceny,

"It is impossible, from the evidence, to come to the conclusion either that Cowperwood did not intend shortly

to deliver the loan or that Albert Stires, the chief clerk, or the city treasurer did not intend to part not only

with the possession, but also and absolutely with the property in the check and the money represented by it. It

was testified by Mr. Stires that Mr. Cowperwood said he had bought certificates of city loan to this amount,

and it has not been clearly demonstrated that he had not. His nonplacement of the same in the sinkingfund

must in all fairness, the letter of the law to the contrary notwithstanding, be looked upon and judged in the

light of custom. Was it his custom so to do? In my judgment the doctrine now announced by the majority of

the court extends the crime of constructive larceny to such limits that any business man who engages in

extensive and perfectly legitimate stock transactions may, before he knows it, by a sudden panic in the market

or a fire, as in this instance, become a felon. When a principle is asserted which establishes such a precedent,

While he was notably comforted by the dissenting opinions of the judges in minority, and while he had been

schooling himself to expect the worst in this connection and had been arranging his affairs as well as he could

in anticipation of it, Cowperwood was still bitterly disappointed. It would be untrue to say that, strong and

selfreliant as he normally was, he did not suffer. He was not without sensibilities of the highest order, only

they were governed and controlled in him by that cold iron thing, his reason, which never forsook him. There

was no further appeal possible save to the United States Supreme Court, as Steger pointed out, and there only

on the constitutionality of some phase of the decision and his rights as a citizen, of which the Supreme Court

of the United States must take cognizance. This was a tedious and expensive thing to do. It was not exactly

obvious at the moment on what point he could make an appeal. It would involve a long delayperhaps a

year and a half, perhaps longer, at the end of which period he might have to serve his prison term anyhow,

Cowperwood mused speculatively for a few moments after hearing Steger's presentation of the case. Then he

said: "Well, it looks as if I have to go to jail or leave the country, and I've decided on jail. I can fight this out

right here in Philadelphia in the long run and win. I can get that decision reversed in the Supreme Court, or I

can get the Governor to pardon me after a time, I think. I'm not going to run away, and everybody knows I'm

not. These people who think they have me down haven't got one corner of me whipped. I'll get out of this

thing after a while, and when I do I'll show some of these petty little politicians what it means to put up a real

fight. They'll never get a damned dollar out of me nownot a dollar! I did intend to pay that five hundred

"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 knew how. I may not know howyou'll have to answer for that but within my limits

I've done the best I can. I can do a few things more to carry this thing on, if you want me to, but I'm going to

"Don't talk nonsense at this stage, Harper," replied Cowperwood almost testily. "I know whether I'm satisfied

or not, and I'd soon tell you if I wasn't. I think you might as well go on and see if you can find some definite

grounds for carrying it to the Supreme Court, but meanwhile I'll begin my sentence. I suppose Payderson will

"It depends on how you'd like to have it, Frank. I could get a stay of 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 one hitch. Jaspers

will be around here tomorrow looking for you. It's his duty to take you into custody again, once he's notified

that your appeal has 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 afraid

you'll have to stay there nights. They're pretty strict about that since that Albertson case of a few years ago."

Steger referred to the case of a noted bank cashier who, being let out of the county jail at night in the alleged

custody of a deputy, was permitted to escape. There had been emphatic and severe condemnation of the

sheriff's office at the time, and since then, repute or no repute, money or no money, convicted criminals were

Cowperwood meditated this calmly, looking out of the lawyer's window into Second Street. He did not much

fear anything that might happen to him in Jaspers's charge since his first taste of that gentleman's hospitality,

although he did object to spending nights in the county jail when his general term of imprisonment was being

reduced no whit thereby. All that he could do now in connection with his affairs, unless he could have months

of freedom, could be as well adjusted from a prison cell as from his Third Street officenot quite, but nearly

so. Anyhow, why parley? He was facing a prison term, and he might as well accept it without further ado. He

might take a day or two finally to look after his 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 move Shannon is planning to make in

"I think you'd better do that," replied Cowperwood. "Friday or Monday will suit me, either way. I'm really

not particular. Better make it Monday if you can. You don't suppose there is any way you can induce Jaspers

"I don't know, Frank, I'm sure; I'll see. I'll go around and talk to him tonight. Perhaps a hundred dollars will

"I fancy a hundred dollars would make Jaspers relax a whole lot of rules," he replied, and he got up to go.

Steger arose also. "I'll see both these people, and then I'll call around at your house. You'll be in, will you,

They slipped on their overcoats and went out into the cold February day, Cowperwood back to his Third

The business of arranging Cowperwood's sentence for Monday was soon disposed of through Shannon, who

Steger next visited the county jail, close on to five o'clock, when it was already dark. Sheriff Jaspers came

lolling out from his private library, 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 again on that Cowperwood matter. I just received word from the district

"That's it, Sheriff," replied Steger, ingratiatingly. "He asked me to step around and see what you wanted him

to do in the matter. Judge Payderson has just fixed the sentence time for Monday morning at ten o'clock. I

don't suppose you'll be much put out if he doesn't show up here before Monday at eight o'clock, will you, or

Sunday night, anyhow? He's perfectly reliable, as you know." Steger was sounding Jaspers out, politely

trying to make the time of Cowperwood's arrival a trivial matter in order to avoid paying the hundred dollars,

if possible. But Jaspers was not to be so easily disposed of. His fat face lengthened considerably. How could

Steger ask him such a favor and not even suggest the slightest form of remuneration?

"It's ag'in' the law, Mr. Steger, as you know," he began, cautiously and complainingly. "I'd like to

accommodate him, everything else being equal, but since that Albertson case three years ago we've had to run

"Oh, I know, Sheriff," interrupted Steger, blandly, "but this isn't an ordinary case in any way, as you can see

for yourself. Mr. Cowperwood is a very important man, and he has a great many things to attend to. Now if it

were only a mere matter of seventyfive or a hundred dollars to satisfy some court clerk with, or to pay a

fine, it would be easy enough, but" He paused and looked wisely away, and Mr. Jaspers's face began to

relax at once. The law against which it was ordinarily so hard to offend was not now so important. Steger saw

"It's a very ticklish business, this, Mr. Steger," put in the sheriff, yieldingly, and yet with a slight whimper in

his voice. "If anything were to happen, it would cost me my place all right. I don't like to do it under any

circumstances, and I wouldn't, only I happen to know both Mr. Cowperwood and Mr. Stener, and I like 'em

both. I don' think they got their rights in this matter, either. I don't mind making an exception in this case if

Mr. Cowperwood don't go about too publicly. I wouldn't want any of the men in the district attorney's office

to know this. I don't suppose he'll mind if I keep a deputy somewhere near all the 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 at Mr.

Steger very flatly and wiselyalmost placatingly under the circumstancesand Steger nodded.

"Quite right, Sheriff, quite right. You're quite right," and he drew out his purse while the sheriff led the way

"I'd like to show you the line of lawbooks I'm fixing up for myself in here, Mr. Steger," he observed,

genially, but meanwhile closing his fingers gently on the small roll of tendollar bills Steger was handing

him. "We have occasional use for books of that kind here, as you see. I thought it a good sort of thing to have

them around." He waved one arm comprehensively at the line of State reports, revised statutes, prison

regulations, etc., the while he put the money in his pocket and Steger pretended to look.

"A good idea, I think, Sheriff. Very good, indeed. So you think if Mr. Cowperwood gets around here very

"I think so," replied the sheriff, curiously nervous, but agreeable, anxious to please. "I don't think that

anything will come up that will make me want him earlier. If it does I'll let you know, and you can produce

him. I don't think so, though, Mr. Steger; I think everything will be all right." They were once more in the

main hall now. "Glad to have seen you again, Mr. Stegervery glad," he added. "Call again some day."

Waving the sheriff a pleasant farewell, he hurried on his way to Cowperwood's house.

You would not have thought, seeing Cowperwood mount the front steps of his handsome residence in his

neat gray suit and wellcut overcoat on his return from his office that evening, that he was thinking that this

might be his last night here. His air and walk indicated no weakening of spirit. He entered the hall, where an

early lamp was aglow, and encountered "Wash" Sims, an old negro factotum, who was just coming up from

"Mahty cold out, dis evenin', Mistah Coppahwood," said Wash, to whom anything less than sixty degrees was

very cold. His one regret was that Philadelphia was not located in North Carolina, from whence he came.

"'Tis sharp, Wash," replied Cowperwood, absentmindedly. He was thinking for the moment of the house and

how it had looked, as he came toward it west along Girard Avenuewhat the neighbors were thinking of

him, too, observing him from time to time out of their windows. It was clear and cold. The lamps in the

receptionhall and sittingroom had been lit, for he had permitted no air of funereal gloom to settle down

over this place since his troubles had begun. In the far west of the street a last tingling gleam of lavender and

violet was showing over the cold white snow of the roadway. The house of graygreen stone, with its lighted

windows, and creamcolored lace curtains, had looked especially attractive. He had thought for the moment

of the pride he had taken in putting all this here, decorating and ornamenting it, and whether, ever, he could

secure it for himself again. "Where is your mistress?" he added to Wash, when he bethought himself.

Cowperwood ascended the stairs, thinking curiously that Wash would soon be out of a job now, unless Mrs.

Cowperwood, out of all the wreck of other things, chose to retain him, which was not likely. He entered the

sittingroom, and there sat his wife by the oblong centertable, sewing a hook and eye on one of Lillian,

second's, petticoats. She looked up, at his step, with the peculiarly uncertain smile she used these

daysindication of her pain, fear, suspicionand inquired, "Well, what is new with you, Frank?" Her smile

"Nothing in particular," he replied, in his offhand way, "except that I understand I have lost that appeal of

mine. Steger is coming here in a little while to let me know. I had a note from him, and I fancy it's about

He did not care to say squarely that he had lost. He knew that she was sufficiently distressed as it was, and he

"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 noticeable intrusion of such distressing things as courts, jails, and the like, that

these last few months had driven her nearly mad. Cowperwood had so definitely insisted on her keeping in

the backgroundhe had told her so very little that she was all at sea anyhow in regard to the whole

procedure. Nearly all that she had had in the way of intelligence had been from his father and mother and

At the time he had gone to the county jail she did not even know anything about it until his father had come

back from the courtroom and the jail and had broken the news to her. It had been a terrific blow to her. Now

to have this thing suddenly broken to her in this offhand way, even though she had been expecting and

She was still a decidedly charminglooking woman as she stood holding her daughter's garment in her hand,

even if she was forty years old to Cowperwood's thirtyfive. She was robed in one of the creations of their

late prosperity, a creamcolored gown of rich silk, with dark brown trimmingsa fetching combination for

her. Her eyes were a little hollow, and reddish about the rims, but otherwise she showed no sign of her keen

mental distress. There was considerable evidence of the former tranquil sweetness that had so fascinated him

"Isn't that terrible?" she said, weakly, her hands trembling in a nervous 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 objected to her

distress and her nervous fears. He preferred a stronger, more selfreliant type of woman, but still she was his

"It looks that way, Lillian," he said, with the first note of real sympathy he had used in a long while, for he

felt sorry for her now. At the same time he was afraid to go any further along that line, for fear it might give

her a false sense as to his present attitude toward her which was one essentially of indifference. But she was

not so dull but what she could see that the consideration in his voice had been brought about by his defeat,

which meant hers also. She choked a littleand even so was touched. The bare suggestion of sympathy

brought back the old 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 get things

straightened out properly. What I would like you to do is to keep up a cheerful appearance in front of the rest

of the familyfather and mother particularly. They need to be cheered up." He thought once of taking her

hand, then decided not. She noted mentally his hesitation, the great difference between his attitude now and

that of ten or twelve years before. It did not hurt her now as much as she once would have thought. She

looked at him, scarcely knowing what to say. There was really not so much to say.

"I can't tell yet. Possibly tonight. Possibly Friday. Possibly not until Monday. I'm waiting to hear from

To prison! To prison! Her Frank Cowperwood, her husbandthe substance of their home hereand all their

soul destruction going to prison. And even now she scarcely grasped why! She stood there wondering what

"Is there anything I can get for you?" she asked, starting forward as if out of a dream. "Do you want me to do

anything? Don't you think perhaps you had better leave Philadelphia, Frank? You needn't go to prison unless

She was a little beside herself, for the first time in her life shocked out of a deadly calm.

He paused and looked at her for a moment in his direct, examining way, his hard commercial business

"That would be a confession of guilt, Lillian, and I'm not guilty," he replied, almost coldly. "I haven't done

anything that warrants my running away or going to prison, either. I'm merely going there to save time at

present. I can't be litigating this thing forever. I'll get outbe pardoned out or sued out in a reasonable length

of time. Just now it's better to go, I think. I wouldn't think of running away from Philadelphia. Two of five

judges found for me in the decision. That's pretty fair evidence that the State has no case against me."

His wife saw she had made a mistake. It clarified her judgment on the 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

She paused, expecting some retort, some further argumenta kind word maybe. A trace of the older,

baffling love, but he had quietly turned to his desk and was thinking of other things.

At this point the anomaly of her own state came over her again. It was all so sad and so hopeless. And what

was she to do in the future? And what 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 for her any morethat was it. Nothing could make him, nothing could

bring them together again, not even this tragedy. He was interested in another womanAileen and so her

foolish thoughts and explanations, her fear, sorrow, distress, were not important to him. He could take her

agonized wish for his freedom as a comment on his probable guilt, a doubt of his innocence, a criticism of

"Yes, they're up in the playroom," she answered, sadly, utterly nonplussed and distraught.

"Oh, Frank!" she had it on her lips to cry, but before she could utter it he had bustled down the steps and was

gone. She turned back to the table, her left hand to her mouth, her eyes in a queer, hazy, melancholy mist.

Could it be, she thought, that life could really come to thisthat love could so utterly, so thoroughly die?

Ten years beforebut, oh, why go back to that? Obviously it could, and thoughts concerning that would not

help now. Twice now in her life her affairs had seemed to go to piecesonce when her first husband had

died, and now when her second had failed her, had fallen in love with another and was going to be sent off to

prison. What was it about her that caused such things? Was there anything wrong with her? What was she

going to do? Where go? She had no idea, of course, for how long a term of years he 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 to forget him in five years. She put her other hand to her mouth, also, and then to her forehead, where

there was a dull ache. She tried to think further than this, but somehow, just now, there was no further

thought. Suddenly quite outside of her own volition, with no thought that she was going to do such a thing,

her bosom began to heave, her throat contracted in four or five short, sharp, aching spasms, her eyes burned,

and she shook in a vigorous, anguished, desperate, almost one might have said dryeyed, cry, so hot and few

were the tears. She could not stop for the moment, just stood there and shook, and then after a while a dull

"Why cry?" she suddenly asked herself, fiercelyfor her. "Why break down in this stormy, useless way?

But, in spite of her speculative, philosophic observations to herself, she still felt the echo, the distant rumble,

as it were, of the storm in her own soul. "Why cry? Why not cry?" She might have saidbut wouldn't, and in

spite of herself and all her logic, she knew that this tempest which had so recently raged over her was now

The arrival of Steger with the information that no move of any kind would be made by the sheriff until

Monday morning, when Cowperwood could present himself, eased matters. This gave him time to thinkto

adjust home details at his leisure. He broke the news to his father and mother in a consoling way and talked

with his brothers and father about getting matters immediately adjusted in connection with the smaller houses

to which they were now shortly to be compelled to move. There was much conferring among the different

members of this collapsing organization in regard to the minor details; and what with his conferences with

Steger, his seeing personally Davison, Leigh, Avery Stone, of Jay Cooke & Co., George Waterman (his

oldtime employer Henry was dead), exState Treasurer Van Nostrand, who had gone out with the last State

administration, and others, he was very busy. Now that he was really going into prison, he wanted his

financial friends to get together and see if they could get him out by appealing to the Governor. The division

of opinion among the judges of the State Supreme Court was his excuse and strong point. He wanted Steger

to follow this up, and he spared no pains in trying to see all and sundry who might be of use to himEdward

Tighe, of Tighe & Co., who was still in business in Third Street; Newton Targool; Arthur Rivers; Joseph

Zimmerman, the drygoods prince, now a millionaire; Judge Kitchen; Terrence Relihan, the former

Cowperwood wanted Relihan to approach the newspapers and see if he could not readjust their attitude so as

to work to get him out, and he wanted Walter Leigh to head the movement of getting up a signed petition

which should contain all the important names of moneyed people and others, asking the Governor to release

And, afterwards there was really nothing else to do, unless it was to see Aileen once more, and this, in the

midst of his other complications and obligations, seemed all but impossible at times and yet he did achieve

that, tooso eager was he to be soothed and comforted by the ignorant and yet all embracing volume of her

love. Her eyes these days! The eager, burning quest of him and his happiness that blazed in them. To think

that he should be tortured soher Frank! Oh, she knewwhatever he said, and however bravely and

jauntily he talked. To think that her love for him should have been the principal cause of his being sent to jail,

as she now believed. And the cruelty of her father! And the smallness of his enemiesthat fool Stener, for

instance, whose pictures she had seen in the papers. Actually, whenever in the presence of her Frank, she

fairly seethed in a chemic agony for himher strong, handsome loverthe strongest, bravest, wisest,

kindest, handsomest man in the world. Oh, didn't she know! And Cowperwood, looking in her eyes and

realizing this reasonless, if so comforting fever for him, smiled and was touched. Such love! That of a dog for

a master; that of a mother for a child. And how had he come to evoke it? He could not say, but it was

And so, now, in these last trying hours, he wished to see her much and didmeeting her at least four

times in the month in which he had been free, between his conviction and the final dismissal of his appeal. He

had one last opportunity of seeing herand she himjust before his entrance into prison this last timeon

the Saturday before the Monday of his sentence. He had not come in contact with her since the decision of the

Supreme Court had been rendered, but he had had a letter from her sent to a private mailbox, and had made

an appointment for Saturday at a small hotel in Camden, which, being across the river, was safer, in his

judgment, than anything in Philadelphia. He was a little uncertain as to how she would take the possibility of

not seeing him soon again after Monday, and how she would act generally once he was where she could not

confer with him as often as she chose. And in consequence, he was anxious to talk to her. But on this

occasion, as he anticipated, and even feared, so sorry for her was he, she was not less emphatic in her

protestations than she had ever been; in fact, much more so. When she saw him approaching in the distance,

she went forward to meet him in that direct, forceful way which only she could attempt with him, a sort of

mannish impetuosity which he both enjoyed and admired, and slipping her arms around his neck, said:

"Honey, you needn't tell me. I saw it in 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 of waiting. 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 day through this, darling, loving

She caressed him while he looked at her in that quiet way which betokened at once his selfpoise and yet his

interest and satisfaction in her. He couldn't help loving Aileen, he thought who could? She was so passionate,

vibrant, desireful. He couldn't help admiring her tremendously, now more than ever, because literally, in spite

of all his intellectual strength, he really could not rule her. She went at him, even when he stood off in a calm,

critical way, as if he were her special property, her toy. She would talk to him always, and particularly 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 her importance as a

Now on this occasion she went babbling on as if he were brokenhearted, in need of her greatest care and

tenderness, although he really wasn't at 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; and with a softness and tenderness almost

unusual for him, even where she was 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 see you. I know how to manage, whatever

"Only once in three months, pet, so they say, but I think we can fix that after I get there; only do you think

you had better try to come right away, Aileen? You know what the feeling now is. Hadn't you better wait a

while? Aren't you in danger of stirring up your father? He might cause a lot of trouble out there if he were so

"Only once in three months!" she exclaimed, with rising emphasis, as he began this explanation. "Oh, Frank,

no! Surely not! Once in three months! Oh, I can't stand that! I won't! I'll go and see the warden myself. He'll

She fairly gasped in her excitement, not willing to pause in her tirade, but Cowperwood interposed with her,

"You're not thinking what you're saying, Aileen. You're not thinking. Remember your father! Remember

your family! Your father may know the warden out there. You don't want it to get all over town that you're

running out there to see me, do you? Your father might cause you trouble. Besides you don't know the small

party politicians as I do. They gossip like a lot of old women. You'll have to be 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

try to see me at once. I want you to, but I want to find out how the land lies, and I want you to find out too.

He paused as he thought of the long tier of iron cells which must be there, one of which would be hisfor

how long?and of Aileen seeing him 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 looking today. How young she kept, and how

forceful! While he was nearing his full maturity she was a comparatively young girl, and as beautiful as ever.

She was wearing a blackandwhitestriped silk in the curious bustle style of the times, and a set of sealskin

"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 that my father wouldn't have to wait any three months if he wanted to see anybody out

there, nor anybody else that he wanted to ask favors for. And I won't, either. I'll find some way."

"I know I don't, but they don't need to know who I am. I can go heavily veiled. 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 to

Her confidence in her charms, her personality, her earthly privileges was quite anarchistic. Cowperwood

"Honey, you're about the best and the worst there is when it comes to a woman," he observed, affectionately,

pulling her head down to kiss her, "but you'll have to listen to me just the same. I have a lawyer, Stegeryou

know him. He's going to take up this matter with the warden out thereis doing it today. He may be able to

fix things, and he may not. I'll know tomorrow or Sunday, and I'll write you. But don't go and do anything

rash until you hear. I'm sure I can cut that visiting limit in 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 exploded again"and I'm

sure I can have that made differentsome; but don't write me until you hear, or at least don't sign any name

or put any address in. They open all mail and read it. If you see me or write me you'll have to be cautious, and

They talked much moreof 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 the

opinions of the dissenting judges in his favor, and that of the three agreed judges against him. She was sure

his day was not over in Philadelphia, and that he would some time reestablish himself and then take her with

him somewhere else. She was sorry for Mrs. Cowperwood, but she was convinced that she was not suited to

himthat Frank needed some one more like herself, some one with youth and beauty and forceher, no

less. 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 so incapable of accurate adjustment, it had been done. She was desperately

downcast at the last moment, as was he, over their parting; but she pulled herself together with her usual force

Monday came and with it his final departure. All that could be done had been done. Cowperwood said his

farewells to his mother and father, his brothers and sister. He had a rather distant but sensible and

matteroffact talk with his wife. He made no special point of saying goodby to his son or his daughter;

when he came in on Thursday, Friday, Saturday, and Sunday evenings, after he had learned that he was to

depart Monday, it was with the thought of talking to them a little in an especially affectionate way. He

realized that his general moral or unmoral attitude was perhaps working them a temporary injustice. Still he

was not sure. Most people did fairly well with their lives, whether coddled or deprived of opportunity. These

children would probably do as well as most children, whatever happenedand then, anyhow, he had no

intention of forsaking them financially, if he could help it. He did not want to separate his wife from her

children, nor them from her. She should keep them. He wanted them to be comfortable with her. He would

like to see them, wherever they were with her, occasionally. Only he wanted his own personal freedom, in so

far as she and they were concerned, 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, he was rather noticeably considerate of his boy and

girl, without being too openly 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 a leader.

Why don't you fit yourself up a gymnasium somewhere and see how strong you can get?"

They were in the senior Cowperwood's sittingroom, where they had all rather consciously gathered on this

Lillian, second, who was on the other side of the big library table from her father, paused to survey him and

her brother with interest. Both had been carefully guarded against any real knowledge of their father's affairs

or his present predicament. He was going away on a journey for about a month or so they understood. Lillian

was reading in a Chatterbox book which had been given her the previous Christmas.

"He won't do anything," she volunteered, looking up from her reading in a peculiarly critical way for her.

"Aw, who wants to run races with you, anyhow?" returned Frank, junior, sourly. "You couldn't run if I did

Cowperwood smiled, and laid his hand affectionately on his son's head. "You'll be all right, Frank," he

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 little waist and pulled her curly hair gently. For the moment she was

"Going to be the best kind of a girl while I'm away?" he said to her, privately.

"That's right," he returned, and leaned over and kissed her mouth tenderly. "Button Eyes," he said.

Mrs. Cowperwood sighed after he had gone. "Everything for the children, nothing for me," she thought,

Cowperwood's attitude toward his mother in this final hour was about as tender and sympathetic as any he

could maintain in this world. He understood quite clearly the ramifications of her interests, and how she was

suffering for him and all the others concerned. He had not forgotten her sympathetic care of him in his youth;

and if he could have done anything to have spared her this unhappy breakdown of her fortunes in her old age,

he would have done so. There was no use crying over spilled milk. It was impossible at times for him not to

feel intensely in moments of success or failure; but the proper thing to do was to bear up, not to show it, to

talk little and go your way with an air not so much of resignation as of selfsufficiency, to whatever was

awaiting you. That was his attitude on this morning, and that was what he expected from those around

"Well, mother," he said, genially, at the last momenthe would not let her nor his wife nor his sister come to

court, maintaining that it would make not the least difference to him and would only harrow their own

He slipped his arm around his mother's waist, and she gave him a long, unrestrained, despairing embrace and

"Go on, Frank," she said, choking, when she let him go. "God bless you. I'll pray for you." He paid no further

"Goodby, Lillian," he said to his wife, pleasantly, kindly. "I'll be back in a few days, I think. I'll be coming

To his sister he said: "Goodby, Anna. Don't let the others get too downhearted."

"I'll see you three afterward," he said to his father and brothers; and so, dressed in the very best fashion of the

time, he hurried down into the receptionhall, 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 looking as though he had lost his last friend but making a great effort to seem selfcontained and

equal to his troubles, Anna telling Lillian not to mind, and the latter staring dumbly into the future, not

knowing what to think. Surely a brilliant sun had set on their local scene, and in a very pathetic way.

When Cowperwood reached the jail, Jaspers was there, glad to see him but principally relieved to feel that

nothing had happened to mar his own reputation as a sheriff. Because of the urgency of court matters

generally, it was decided to depart for the courtroom at nine o'clock. Eddie Zanders was once more delegated

to see that Cowperwood was brought safely before Judge Payderson and afterward taken to the penitentiary.

All of the papers in the case were put in his care to be delivered to the warden.

"I suppose you know," confided Sheriff Jaspers to Steger, "that Stener is here. He ain't got no money now,

but I gave him a private room just the same. I didn't want to put a man like him in no cell." Sheriff Jaspers

"I didn't suppose from what I've heard that Mr. Cowperwood would want to meet Stener here, so I've kept

"That's good. That's the way it ought to be," replied Steger. He was glad for Cowperwood's sake that the

sheriff had so much tact. Evidently George and the sheriff were getting along in a very friendly way, for all

The Cowperwood party walked, the distance not being great, and as they did so they talked of rather simple

"Things aren't going to be so bad," Edward said to his father. "Steger says the Governor is sure to pardon

Cowperwood, the elder, had heard this over and over, but he was never tired of hearing it. It was like some

simple croon with which babies are hushed to sleep. The snow on the ground, which was enduring

remarkably well for this time of year, the fineness of the day, which had started out to be clear and bright, the

hope that the courtroom might not be full, all held the attention of the father and his two sons. Cowperwood,

senior, even commented on some sparrows fighting over a piece of bread, marveling how well they did in

winter, solely to ease his mind. Cowperwood, walking on ahead with Steger and Zanders, talked of

approaching court proceedings in connection with his business and what ought to be done.

When they reached the court the same little pen in which Cowperwood had awaited the verdict of his jury

Cowperwood, senior, and his other sons sought places in the courtroom proper. Eddie Zanders remained with

his charge. Stener and a deputy by the name of Wilkerson were in the room; but he and Cowperwood

pretended now not to see each other. Frank had no objection to talking to his former associate, but he could

see that Stener was diffident and ashamed. So he let the situation pass without look or word of any kind.

After some threequarters of an hour of dreary waiting the door leading into the courtroom proper opened

There were six, all told, including Cowperwood and Stener. Two of them were confederate housebreakers

Another prisoner was no more and no less than a plain horsethief, a young man of twentysix, who had

been convicted by a jury of stealing a grocer's horse and selling it. The last man was a negro, a tall,

shambling, illiterate, nebulousminded black, who had walked off with an apparently discarded section of

lead pipe which he had found in a lumberyard. His idea was to sell or trade it for a drink. He really did not

belong in this court at all; but, having been caught by an undersized American watchman charged with the

care of the property, and having at first refused to plead guilty, not quite understanding what was to be done

with him, he had been perforce bound over to this court for trial. Afterward he had changed his mind and

admitted his guilt, so he now had to come before Judge Payderson for sentence or dismissal. The lower court

before which he had originally been brought had lost jurisdiction by binding him over to to higher court for

trial. Eddie Zanders, in his selfappointed position as guide and mentor to Cowperwood, had confided nearly

The courtroom was crowded. It was very humiliating to Cowperwood to have to file in this way along the

side aisle with these others, followed by Stener, well dressed but sickly looking and disconsolate.

"How is it this man comes before me?" asked Payderson, peevishly, when he noted the value of the property

"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 complainant

would not forego the charge, was compelled to bind him over to this court for trial. Since then he has changed

his mind and has admitted his guilt to the district attorney. He would not be brought before you except we

have no alternative. He has to be brought here now in order to clear the calendar."

Judge Payderson stared quizzically at the negro, who, obviously not very much disturbed by this

examination, was leaning comfortably on the gate or bar before which the average criminal stood erect and

terrified. He had been before policecourt magistrates before on one charge and anotherdrunkenness,

disorderly conduct, and the likebut his whole attitude was one of shambling, lackadaisical, amusing

"Well, Ackerman," inquired his honor, severely, "did you or did you not steal this piece of lead pipe as

"Yassah, I did," he began. "I tell you how it was, jedge. I was acomin' along past dat lumberyard one

Saturday afternoon, and I hadn't been wuckin', an' I saw dat piece o' pipe thoo de fence, lyin' inside, and I jes'

reached thoo with a piece o' boad I found dey and pulled it over to me an' tuck it. An' aftahwahd dis Mistah

Watchman man"he waved his hand oratorically toward the witnesschair, where, in case the judge might

wish to ask him some questions, the complainant had taken his stand"come around tuh where I live an'

"Well, don't you know it's wrong to do anything like that? Didn't you know when you reached through that

"Yassah, I knowed it was wrong," replied Ackerman, sheepishly. "I didn' think 'twuz stealin' like zackly, but I

"Of course you did. Of course you did. That's just it. You knew you were stealing, and still you took it. Has

the man to whom this negro sold the lead pipe been apprehended yet?" the judge inquired sharply of the

district attorney. "He should be, for he's more guilty than this negro, a receiver of stolen goods."

"Quite right. It should be," replied Payderson, severely. "This matter of receiving stolen property is one of the

He then turned his attention to Ackerman again. "Now, look here, Ackerman," he exclaimed, irritated at

having to bother with such a pretty case, "I want to say something to you, and I want you to pay strict

attention to me. Straighten up, there! Don't lean on that gate! You are in the presence of the law now."

Ackerman had sprawled himself comfortably down on his elbows as he would have if he had been leaning

over a backfence gate talking to some one, but he immediately drew himself straight, still grinning foolishly

and apologetically, when he heard this. "You are not so dull but that you can understand what I am going to

say to you. The offense you have committedstealing a piece of lead pipeis a crime. Do you hear me? A

criminal offenseone that I could punish you very severely for. I could send you to the penitentiary for one

year if I chosethe law says I mayone year at hard labor for stealing a piece of lead pipe. Now, if you

have any sense you will pay strict attention to what I am going to tell you. I am not going to send you to the

penitentiary right now. I'm going to wait a little while. I am going to sentence you to one year in the

penitentiaryone year. Do you understand?" Ackerman blanched a little and licked his lips nervously. "And

then I am going to suspend that sentencehold it over your head, so that if you are ever caught taking

anything else you will be punished for this offense and the next one also at one and the same time. Do you

"Yessah! I does, sir," replied the negro. "You'se gwine to let me go nowtha's it."

The audience grinned, and his honor made a wry face to prevent his own grim 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 this court, and then you go to the penitentiary for a year and whatever more

time you deserve. Do you understand that? Now, I want you to walk straight out of this court and behave

yourself. Don't ever steal anything. Get something to do! Don't steal, do you hear? Don't touch anything 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 take nothin' more that don't belong tuh

He shuffled away, after a moment, urged along by the guiding hand of a bailiff, and was put safely outside

the court, amid a mixture of smiles and laughter over his simplicity and Payderson's undue severity of

manner. But the next case was called and soon engrossed the interest of the audience.

It was that of the two housebreakers whom Cowperwood had been and was still studying with much

curiosity. In all his life before he had never witnessed a sentencing scene of any kind. He had never been in

police or criminal courts of any kindrarely in any of the civil ones. He was glad to see the negro go, and

gave Payderson credit for having some sense and sympathymore than he had expected.

He wondered now whether by any chance Aileen was here. He had objected to 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 quickly and surely her beloved's fate

to be near him in his hour of real suffering, as she thought. She was greatly angered at seeing him brought in

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 the dignity 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 to be. If he could only see her now; if he would

only look so she could lift her veil and smile! He didn't, though; he wouldn't. He didn't want to see her here.

The two burglars were quickly disposed of by the judge, with a sentence of one year each, and they were led

away, uncertain, and apparently not knowing what to think of their crime or their future.

When it came to Cowperwood's turn to be called, his honor himself stiffened and straightened up, for this was

a different type of man and could not be handled in the usual manner. He knew exactly what he was going to

say. When one of Mollenhauer's agents, a close friend of Butler's, had suggested that five years for both

Cowperwood and Stener would be about right, he knew exactly what to do. "Frank Algernon Cowperwood,"

Cowperwood stepped briskly forward, sorry for himself, ashamed of his position in a way, but showing it

Steger stood close beside him, very dignified, very forceful, ready to make a final statement for the benefit of

the court and the public when the time should come. Aileen, from her position in the crowd near the door,

was for the first time in her life biting her fingers nervously and there were great beads of perspiration on her

brow. Cowperwood's father was tense with excitement and his two brothers looked quickly away, doing their

"Frank Algernon Cowperwood," called the clerk, in his nasal, singsong way, coming forward, "have you

anything to say why judgment should not now be pronounced upon you? If so, speak."

"If the court pleases, my client, Mr. Cowperwood, the prisoner at the bar, is neither guilty in his own

estimation, nor in that of twofifths of the Pennsylvania State Supreme Courtthe court of last resort in this

One of the interested listeners and spectators at this point was Edward Malia Butler, who had just stepped in

from another courtroom where he had been talking to a judge. An obsequious court attendant had warned him

that Cowperwood was about to be sentenced. He had really come here this morning in order not to miss this

sentence, but he cloaked his motive under the guise of another errand. He did not know that Aileen was there,

"As he himself testified at the time of his trial," went on Steger, "and as the evidence clearly showed, he was

never more than an agent for the gentleman whose offense was subsequently adjudicated by this court; and as

an agent he still maintains, and twofifths of the State Supreme Court agree with him, that he was strictly

within his rights and privileges in not having deposited the sixty thousand dollars' worth of city loan

certificates at the time, and in the manner which the people, acting through the district attorney, complained

that he should have. My client is a man of rare financial ability. By the various letters which have been

submitted to your honor in his behalf, you will see that he commands the respect and the sympathy of a large

majority of the most forceful and eminent men in his particular world. He is a man of distinguished social

standing and of notable achievements. Only the most unheralded and the unkindest thrust of fortune has

brought him here before you todaya fire and its consequent panic which involved a financial property of

the most thorough and stable character. In spite of the verdict of the jury and the decision of threefifths of

the State Supreme Court, I maintain that my client is not an embezzler, that he has not committed larceny,

that he should never have been convicted, and that he should not now be punished for something of which he

"I trust that your honor will not misunderstand me or my motives when I point out in this situation that what I

have said is true. I do not wish to 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 the untoward chain of events which has built up a

seeming situation, not easily understood by the lay mind, and which has brought my distinguished client

within the purview of the law. I think it is but fair that this should be finally and publicly stated here and now.

I ask that your honor be lenient, and that if you cannot conscientiously dismiss this charge you will at least

see that the facts, as I have indicated them, are given due weight in the measure of the punishment inflicted."

Steger stepped back and Judge Payderson nodded, as much as to say he had heard all the distinguished lawyer

had to say, and would give it such consideration as it deservedno more. Then he turned to Cowperwood,

"Frank Algernon Cowperwood, you have been convicted by a jury of your own selection of the offense of

larceny. The motion for a new trial, made in your behalf by your learned counsel, has been carefully

considered and overruled, the majority of the court being entirely satisfied with the propriety of the

conviction, both upon the law and the evidence. Your offense was one of more than usual gravity, the more

so that the large amount of money which you obtained belonged to the city. And it was aggravated by the fact

that you had in addition thereto unlawfully used and converted to your own use several hundred thousand

dollars of the loan and money of the city. For such an offense the maximum punishment affixed by the law is

singularly merciful. Nevertheless, the facts in connection with your hitherto distinguished position, the

circumstances under which your failure was brought about, and the appeals of your numerous friends and

financial associates, will be given due consideration by this court. It is not unmindful of any important fact in

your career." Payderson paused as if in doubt, though he knew very well how he was about to proceed. He

"If your case points no other moral," he went on, after a moment, toying with the briefs, "it will at least teach

the lesson much needed at the present time, that the treasury of the city is not to be invaded and plundered

with impunity under the thin disguise of a business transaction, and that there is still a power in the law to

"The sentence of the court," he added, solemnly, the while Cowperwood gazed unmoved, "is, therefore, that

you pay a fine of five thousand dollars to the commonwealth for the use of the county, that you pay the costs

of prosecution, and that you undergo imprisonment in the State Penitentiary for the Eastern District by

separate or solitary confinement at labor for a period of four years and three months, and that you stand

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 rage and disappointment and tears. Four years and three months! That would

make a terrible gap in his life and hers. Still, she could wait. It was better than eight or ten years, as she had

feared it might be. Perhaps now, once this was really over and he was in prison, the Governor would pardon

The judge now moved to pick up the papers in connection with Stener's case, satisfied that he had given the

financiers no chance to say he had not given due heed to their plea in Cowperwood's behalf and yet certain

that the politicians would be pleased that he had so nearly given Cowperwood the maximum while appearing

to have heeded the pleas for mercy. Cowperwood saw through the trick at once, but it did not disturb him. It

struck him as rather weak and contemptible. A bailiff came forward and started to hurry him away.

The name, of George W. Stener had been called by the clerk and Cowperwood did not quite understand why

he was being detained, but he soon learned. It was that he might hear the opinion of the court in connection

with his copartner in crime. The latter's record was taken. Roger O'Mara, the Irish political lawyer who had

been his counsel all through his troubles, stood near him, but had nothing to say beyond asking the judge to

"George W. Stener," said his honor, while the audience, including Cowperwood, listened attentively. "The

motion for a new trial as well as an arrest of judgment in your case having been overruled, it remains for the

court to impose such sentence as the nature of your offense requires. I do not desire to add to the pain of your

position by any extended remarks of my own; but I cannot let the occasion pass without expressing my

emphatic condemnation of your offense. The misapplication of public money has become the great crime of

the age. If not promptly and firmly checked, it will ultimately destroy our institutions. When a republic

becomes honeycombed with corruption its vitality is gone. It must crumble upon the first pressure.

"In my opinion, the public is much to blame for your offense and others of a similar character. Heretofore,

official fraud has been regarded with too much indifference. What we need is a higher and purer political

moralitya state of public opinion which would make the improper use of public money a thing to be

execrated. It was the lack of this which made your offense possible. Beyond that I see nothing of extenuation

in your case." Judge Payderson paused for emphasis. He was coming to his finest flight, and he wanted it to

"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 the door of the treasury even as the cherubim protected the Garden of Eden,

and should have turned the flaming sword of impeccable honesty against every one who approached it

improperly. Your position as the representative of a great community warranted that.

"In view of all the facts in your case the court can do no less than impose a major penalty. The

seventyfourth section of the Criminal Procedure Act provides that no convict shall be sentenced by the court

of this commonwealth to either of the penitentiaries thereof, for any term which shall expire between the

fifteenth of November and the fifteenth day of February of any year, and this provision requires me to abate

three months from the maximum of time which I would affix in your casenamely, five years. The sentence

of the court is, therefore, that you pay a fine of five thousand dollars to the commonwealth for the use of the

county" Payderson knew well enough that Stener could never pay that sum "and that you undergo

imprisonment in the State Penitentiary for the Eastern District, by separate and solitary confinement at labor,

for the period of four years and nine months, and that you stand committed until this sentence is complied

with." He laid down the briefs and rubbed his chin reflectively while both Cowperwood and Stener were

hurried out. Butler was the first to leave after the sentencequite satisfied. Seeing that all was over so far as

she was concerned, Aileen stole quickly out; and after her, in a few moments, Cowperwood's father and

brothers. They were to await him outside and go with him to the penitentiary. The remaining members of the

family were at home eagerly awaiting intelligence of the morning's work, and Joseph Cowperwood was at

The day had now become cloudy, lowery, and it looked as if there might be 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. In

consequence the five of themZanders, Steger, Cowperwood, his father, and Edwardgot into a streetcar

which ran to within a few blocks of the prison. Within half an hour they were at the gates of the Eastern

The Eastern District Penitentiary of Pennsylvania, standing at Fairmount Avenue and Twentyfirst Street in

Philadelphia, where Cowperwood was now to serve his sentence of four years and three months, was a large,

graystone structure, solemn and momentous in its mien, not at all unlike the palace of Sforzas at Milan,

although not so distinguished. It stretched its gray length for several blocks along four different streets, and

looked as lonely and forbidding as a prison should. The wall which inclosed its great area extending over ten

acres and gave it so much of its solemn dignity was thirtyfive feet high and some seven feet thick. The

prison proper, which was not visible from the outside, consisted of seven arms or corridors, ranged

octopuslike around a central room or court, and occupying in their sprawling length about twothirds of the

yard inclosed within the walls, so that there was but little space for the charm of lawn or sward. The

corridors, fortytwo feet wide from outer wall to outer wall, were one hundred and eighty feet in length, and

in four instances two stories high, and extended in their long reach in every direction. There were no

windows in the corridors, only narrow slits of skylights, three and onehalf feet long by perhaps eight inches

wide, let in the roof; and the groundfloor cells were accompanied in some instances by a small yard ten by

sixteenthe same size as the cells properwhich was surrounded by a high brick wall in every instance.

The cells and floors and roofs were made of stone, and the corridors, which were only ten feet wide between

the cells, and in the case of the singlestory portion only fifteen feet high, were paved with stone. If you

stood in the central room, or rotunda, and looked down the long stretches which departed from you in every

direction, you had a sense of narrowness and confinement not compatible with their length. The iron doors,

with their outer accompaniment of solid wooden ones, the latter used at times to shut the prisoner from all

sight and sound, were grim and unpleasing to behold. The halls were light enough, being whitewashed

frequently and set with the narrow skylights, which were closed with frosted glass in winter; but they were, as

are all such matteroffact arrangements for incarceration, barewearisome to look upon. Life enough there

was in all conscience, seeing that there were four hundred prisoners here at that time, and that nearly every

cell was occupied; but it was a life of which no one individual was essentially aware as a spectacle. He was of

it; but he was not. Some of the prisoners, after long service, were used as "trusties" or "runners," as they were

locally called; but not many. There was a bakery, a machineshop, a carpentershop, a storeroom, a

flourmill, and a series of gardens, or truck patches; but the manipulation of these did not require the services

The prison proper dated from 1822, and it had grown, wing by wing, until its present considerable size had

been reached. Its population consisted of individuals of all degrees of intelligence and crime, from murderers

to minor practitioners of larceny. It had what was known as the "Pennsylvania System" of regulation for its

inmates, which was nothing more nor less than solitary confinement for all concerneda life of absolute

Barring his comparatively recent experience in the county jail, which after all was far from typical,

Cowperwood had never been in a prison in his life. Once, when a boy, in one of his perambulations through

several of the surrounding towns, he had passed a village "lockup," as the town prisons were then calleda

small, square, gray building with long ironbarred windows, and he had seen, at one of these rather

depressing apertures on the second floor, a none too prepossessing drunkard or town ne'erdowell who

looked down on him with bleary eyes, unkempt hair, and a sodden, waxy, pallid face, and calledfor it was

Cowperwood, who had looked up, shocked and disturbed by the man's disheveled appearance, had called

"Look out you don't get locked up yourself sometime, you little runt," the man had replied, savagely, only

He had not thought of this particular scene in years, but now suddenly it came back to him. Here he was on

his way to be locked up in this dull, somber prison, and it was snowing, and he was being cut out of human

No friends were permitted to accompany him beyond the outer gate not even Steger for the time being,

though he might visit him later in the day. This was an inviolable rule. Zanders being known to the

gatekeeper, and bearing his commitment paper, was admitted at once. The others turned solemnly away.

They bade a gloomy if affectionate farewell to Cowperwood, who, on his part, attempted to give it all an air

"Well, goodby for the present," he said, shaking hands. "I'll be all right and I'll get out soon. Wait and see.

He stepped inside, and the gate clanked solemnly behind him. Zanders led the way through a dark, somber

hall, wide and highceiled, to a farther gate, where a second gateman, trifling with a large key, unlocked a

barred door at his bidding. Once inside the prison yard, Zanders turned to the left into a small office,

presenting his prisoner before a small, chesthigh desk, where stood a prison officer in uniform of blue. The

latter, the receiving overseer of the prisona thin, practical, executivelooking person with narrow gray

eyes and light hair, took the paper which the sheriff's deputy handed him and read it. This was his authority

for receiving Cowperwood. In his turn he handed Zanders a slip, showing that he had so received the

prisoner; and then Zanders left, receiving gratefully the tip which Cowperwood pressed in his hand.

"Well, goodby, Mr. Cowperwood," he said, with a peculiar twist of his detectivelike head. "I'm sorry. I

He wanted to impress the receiving overseer with his familiarity with this distinguished prisoner, and

"I'm much obliged to you for your courtesy, Mr. Zanders," he said, then turned to his new master with the air

of a man who is determined to make a 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 impress this man with his utter willingness to

comply and obeyhis sense of respect for his authoritywithout in any way demeaning himself. He was

depressed but efficient, even here in the clutch of that eventual machine of the law, the State penitentiary,

The receiving overseer, Roger Kendall, though thin and clerical, was a rather capable man, as prison officials

goshrewd, not particularly well educated, not overintelligent naturally, not overindustrious, but

sufficiently energetic to hold his position. He knew something about convictsconsiderablefor he had

been dealing with them for nearly twentysix years. His attitude toward them was cold, cynical, critical.

He did not permit any of them to come into personal contact with him, but he saw to it that underlings in his

When Cowperwood entered, dressed in his very good clothinga dark grayblue twill suit of pure wool, a

light, wellmade gray overcoat, a black 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 and mustache showing the attention of an

intelligent barber, and his hands well manicuredthe receiving overseer saw at once that he was in the

presence of some one of superior intelligence and force, such a man as the fortune of his trade rarely brought

Cowperwood stood in the middle of the room without apparently looking at any one or anything, though he

saw all. "Convict number 3633," Kendall called to a clerk, handing him at the same time a yellow slip of

paper on which was written Cowperwood's full name and his record number, counting from the beginning of

The underling, a convict, took it and entered it in a book, reserving the slip at the same time for the

penitentiary "runner" or "trusty," who would eventually take Cowperwood to the "manners" gallery.

"You will have to take off your clothes and take a bath," said Kendall to Cowperwood, eyeing him curiously.

"Thank you," replied Cowperwood, pleased that his personality was counting for something even here.

When he started to take off his coat, however, Kendall put up his hand delayingly and tapped a bell. There

now issued from an adjoining room an assistant, a prison servitor, a weirdlooking specimen of the genus

"trusty." He was a small, dark, lopsided individual, one leg being slightly shorter, and therefore one shoulder

lower, than the other. He was hollowchested, squinteyed, and rather shambling, but spry enough withal.

He was dressed in a thin, poorly made, baggy suit of striped jeans, the prison stripes of the place, showing a

soft rollcollar shirt underneath, and wearing a large, widestriped cap, peculiarly offensive in its size and

shape to Cowperwood. He could not help thinking how uncanny the man's squint eyes looked under its

straight outstanding visor. The trusty had a silly, sycophantic manner of raising one hand in salute. He was a

professional "secondstory man," "up" for ten years, but by dint of good behavior he had attained to the

honor of working about this office without the degrading hood customary for prisoners to wear over the cap.

For this he was properly grateful. He now considered his superior with nervous doglike eyes, and looked at

Cowperwood with a certain cunning appreciation of his lot and a show of initial mistrust.

One prisoner is as good as another to the average convict; as a matter of fact, it is their only consolation in

their degradation that all who come here are no better than they. The world may have misused them; but they

misuse their confreres in their thoughts. The "holier than thou" attitude, intentional or otherwise, is quite the

last and most deadly offense within prison walls. This particular "trusty" could no more understand

Cowperwood than could a fly the motions of a flywheel; but with the cocky superiority of the underling of

the world he did not hesitate to think that he could. A crook was a crook to himCowperwood no less than

the shabbiest pickpocket. His one feeling was that he would like to demean him, to pull him down to his own

"You will have to take everything you have out of your pockets," Kendall now informed Cowperwood.

Cowperwood stepped forward and laid out a purse with twentyfive dollars in it, a penknife, a leadpencil,

a small notebook, and a little ivory elephant which Aileen had given him once, "for luck," and which he

treasured solely because she gave it to him. Kendall looked at the 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 him into an adjoining room, where three

closets held three oldfashioned, ironbodied, woodentop bathtubs, with their attendant shelves for rough

"Get in there," said the trusty, whose name was Thomas Kuby, pointing to one of the tubs.

Cowperwood realized that this was the beginning of petty official supervision; but he deemed it wise to

Cowperwood looked at him quizzically. He did not understand. The prison attendant 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 and three months."

"Yuh got off easy," commented Kuby. "I'm up for ten. A rube judge did that to me."

Kuby had never heard of Cowperwood's crime. He would not have understood its subtleties if he had.

Cowperwood did not want to talk to this man; he did not know how. He wished he would go away; but that

"That's too bad," he answered; and the convict realized clearly that this man was really not one of them, or he

would not have said anything like that. Kuby went to the two hydrants opening into the bathtub and turned

them on. Cowperwood had been undressing the while, and now stood naked, but not ashamed, in front of this

Cowperwood stood there while the water ran, meditating on his fate. It was strange how life had dealt with

him of lateso severely. Unlike most men in his position, he was not suffering from a consciousness of evil.

He did not think he was evil. As he saw it, he was merely unfortunate. To think that he should be actually in

this great, silent penitentiary, a convict, waiting here beside this cheap iron bathtub, not very sweet or

He stepped into the tub and washed himself briskly with the biting yellow soap, drying himself on one of the

rough, only partially bleached towels. He looked for his underwear, but there was none. At this point the

Cowperwood followed, naked. He was led through the receiving overseer's office into a room, where were

scales, implements of measurement, a recordbook, etc. The attendant who stood guard at the door now came

over, and the clerk who sat in a corner automatically took down a recordblank. Kendall surveyed

Cowperwood's decidedly graceful figure, already inclining to a slight thickening around the waist, and

approved of it as superior to that of most who came here. His skin, as he particularly noted, was especially

Cowperwood did so, The former adjusted the weights and scanned the record carefully.

He indicated a spot in the side wall where was fastened in a thin slatwhich ran from the floor to about

seven and one half feet above, perpendicularlya small movable wooden indicator, which, when a man was

standing under it, could be pressed down on his head. At the side of the 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, five feet nine and tensixteenths," he called.

The clerk in the corner noted it. He now produced a tapemeasure and began measuring Cowperwood's arms,

legs, chest, waist, hips, etc. He called out the color of his eyes, his hair, his mustache, and, looking into his

After Cowperwood had once more given his address, age, profession, whether he knew any trade,

etc.which he did nothe was allowed to return to the bathroom, and put on the clothing which the prison

provided for himfirst the rough, prickly underwear, then the cheap soft rollcollar, whitecotton shirt, then

the thick bluishgray cotton socks of a quality such as he had never worn in his life, and over these a pair of

indescribable roughleather clogs, which felt to his feet as though they were made of wood or ironoily and

heavy. He then drew on the shapeless, baggy trousers with their telltale stripes, and over his arms and chest

the loosecut shapeless coat and waistcoat. He felt and knew of course that he looked very strange, wretched.

And as he stepped out into the overseer's room again he experienced a peculiar sense of depression, a gone

feeling which before this had not assailed him and which now he did his best to conceal. This, then, was what

society did to the criminal, he thought to himself. It took him and tore away from his body and his life the

habiliments of his proper state and left him these. He felt sad and grim, and, try as he wouldhe could not

help showing it for a moment. It was always his business and his intention to conceal his real feelings, but

now it was not quite possible. He felt degraded, impossible, in these clothes, and he knew that he looked it.

Nevertheless, he did his best to pull himself together and look unconcerned, willing, obedient, considerate of

those above him. After all, he said to himself, it was all a play of sorts, a dream even, if one chose to view it

so, a miasma even, from which, in the course of time 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 the stage, this stage of life that

Kendall did not waste any time looking at him, however. He merely said to his assistant, "See if you can find

a cap for him," and the latter, going to a closet containing numbered shelves, took down a capa

highcrowned, straightvisored, shabby, striped affair which Cowperwood was asked to try on. It fitted well

enough, slipping down close over his ears, and he thought that now his indignities must be about complete.

What could be added? There could be no more of these disconcerting accoutrements. But he was mistaken.

Kuby understood. He went back into the washroom and produced what Cowperwood had heard of but never

before seena blueandwhitestriped cotton bag about half the length of an ordinary pillowcase and half

again as wide, which Kuby now unfolded and shook out as he came toward him. It was a custom. The use of

this hood, dating from the earliest days of the prison, was intended to prevent a sense of location and

direction and thereby obviate any attempt to escape. Thereafter during all his stay he was not supposed to

walk with or talk to or see another prisoner not even to converse with his superiors, unless addressed. It

was a grim theory, and yet one definitely enforced here, although as he was to learn later even this could be

"You'll have to put this on," Kuby said, and opened it in such a way that it could be put over Cowperwood's

Cowperwood understood. He had heard of it in some way, in times past. He was a little shockedlooked at

it first with a touch of real surprise, but a moment after lifted his hands and helped pull it down.

Cowperwood dropped his arms. When it was fully on, it came to about his chest, giving him little means of

seeing anything. He felt very strange, very humiliated, very downcast. This simple thing of a blueandwhite

striped bag over his head almost cost him his sense of selfpossession. Why could not they have spared him

"If you hold it out in front you can see to walk," said his guide; and Cowperwood pulled it out, thus being

able to discern his feet and a portion of the floor below. He was thus conductedseeing nothing in his

transitdown a short walk, then through a long corridor, then through a room 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 the

twotier blocks. There, he heard the voice of Kuby saying: "Mr. Chapin, here's another prisoner for you from

"I'll be there in a minute," came a peculiarly pleasant voice from the distance. Presently a big, heavy hand

"You hain't got far to go now," the voice said, "and then I'll take that bag off," and Cowperwood felt for some

reason a sense of sympathy, perhapsas though he would choke. The further steps were not many.

A cell door was reached and unlocked by the inserting of a great iron key. It was swung open, and the same

big hand guided him through. A moment later the bag was pulled easily from his head, and he saw that he

was in a narrow, whitewashed cell, rather dim, windowless, but lighted from the top by a small skylight of

frosted glass three and one half feet long by four inches wide. For a night light there was a tinbodied lamp

swinging from a hook near the middle of one of the side walls. A rough iron cot, furnished with a straw

mattress and two pairs of dark blue, probably unwashed blankets, stood in one corner. There was a hydrant

and small sink in another. A small shelf occupied the wall opposite the bed. A plain wooden chair with a

homely round back stood at the foot of the bed, and a fairly serviceable broom was standing in one corner.

There was an iron stool or pot for excreta, giving, as he could see, into a large drainpipe which ran along the

inside wall, and which was obviously flushed by buckets of water being poured into it. Rats and other vermin

infested this, and it gave off an unpleasant odor which filled the cell. The floor was of stone. Cowperwood's

clearseeing eyes took it all in at a glance. He noted the hard cell door, which was barred and crossbarred

with great round rods of steel, and fastened with a thick, highly polished lock. He saw also that beyond this

was a heavy wooden door, which could shut him in even more completely than the iron one. There was no

chance for any clear, purifying sunlight here. Cleanliness depended entirely on whitewash, soap and water

He also took in Chapin, the homely, goodnatured, cell overseer whom he now saw for the first timea

large, heavy, lumbering man, rather dusty and misshapenlooking, whose uniform did not fit him well, and

whose manner of standing made him look as though he would much prefer to sit down. He was obviously

bulky, but not strong, and his kindly face was covered with a short growth of grayishbrown whiskers. His

hair was cut badly and stuck out in odd strings or wisps from underneath his big cap. Nevertheless,

Cowperwood was not at all unfavorably impressedquite the contraryand he felt at once that this man

might be more considerate of him than the others had been. He hoped so, anyhow. He did not know that he

was in the presence of the overseer of the "manners squad," who would have him in charge for two weeks

only, instructing him in the rules of the prison, and that he was only one of twentysix, all told, who were in

That worthy, by way of easy introduction, now went over to the bed and seated himself on it. He pointed to

"Well, now you're here, hain't yuh?" he asked, and answered himself quite genially, for he was an unlettered

man, generously disposed, of long experience with criminals, and inclined to deal kindly with kindly

temperament and a form of religious beliefQuakerismhad inclined him to be merciful, and yet his

official duties, as Cowperwood later found out, seemed to have led him to the conclusion that most criminals

were innately bad. Like Kendall, he regarded them as weaklings and ne'erdowells with evil streaks in

them, and in the main he was not mistaken. Yet he could not help being what he was, a fatherly, kindly old

man, having faith in those shibboleths of the weak and inexperienced mentallyhuman justice and human

"Yes, I'm here, Mr. Chapin," Cowperwood replied, simply, remembering his name from the attendant, and

To old Chapin the situation was more or less puzzling. This was the famous Frank A. Cowperwood whom he

had read about, the noted banker and treasurylooter. He and his copartner in crime, Stener, were destined

to serve, as he had read, comparatively long terms here. Five hundred thousand dollars was a large sum of

money in those days, much more than five million would have been forty years later. He was awed by the

thought of what had become of ithow Cowperwood managed to do all the things the papers had said he

had done. He had a little formula of questions which he usually went through with each new

prisonerasking him if he was sorry now for the crime he had committed, if he meant to do better with a

new chance, if his father and mother were alive, etc.; and by the manner in which they answered these

questionssimply, regretfully, defiantly, or otherwisehe judged whether they were being adequately

punished or not. Yet he could not talk to Cowperwood as he now saw or as he would to the average

secondstory burglar, storelooter, pickpocket, and plain cheap thief and swindler. And yet he scarcely knew

"Well, now," he went on, "I don't suppose you ever thought you'd get to a place like this, did you, Mr.

"I never did," replied Frank, simply. "I wouldn't have believed it a few months ago, Mr. Chapin. I don't think

I deserve to be here now, though of course there is no use of my telling you that."

He saw that old Chapin wanted to moralize a little, and he was only too glad to fall in with his mood. He

would soon be alone with no one to talk to perhaps, and if a sympathetic understanding could be reached with

this man now, so much the better. Any port in a storm; any straw to a 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 and reformer. "We can't just always tell how the plans we think so fine are

coming out, can we? You're here now, an' I suppose you're sorry certain things didn't come out just as you

thought; but if you had a chance I don'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

"Well, that's the way," continued Chapin, meditatively, scratching his grizzled head and looking genially

about. "Sometimes, as I allers says to some of these here young fellers that comes in here, we don't know as

much as we thinks we does. We forget that others are just as smart as we are, and that there are allers people

that are watchin' us all the time. These here courts and jails and detectivesthey're here all the time, and they

"Well," continued the old man after a time, after he had made a few more solemn, owllike, and yet

wellintentioned remarks, "now here's your bed, and there's your chair, and there's your washstand, and

there's your watercloset. Now keep 'em all clean and use 'em right." (You would have thought he was

making Cowperwood a present of a fortune.) "You're the one's got to make up your bed every mornin' and

keep your floor swept and your toilet flushed and your cell clean. There hain't anybody here'll do that for yuh.

You want to do all them things the first thing in the mornin' when you get up, and afterward you'll get

"Yes, Mr. Chapin," Cowperwood said, politely. "You can depend on me to do all those things promptly."

"There hain't so much more," added Chapin. "You're supposed to wash yourself 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'." Cowperwood

winced at that. "You kin have hot water for that if you want it. I'll have one of the runners bring it to you. An'

as for your friends and relations"he got up and shook himself like a big Newfoundland dog. "You gotta

"Well, the rules here are that your wife or your friends kin come to see you once in three months, and your

"Well, he kin come every week or so if he likesevery day, I guessthere hain't no rules about lawyers.

But you kin only write one letter once in three months yourself, an' if you want anything like tobaccer or the

like o' that, from the storeroom, you gotta sign an order for it, if you got any money with the warden, an'

The old man was really above taking small tips in the shape of money. He was a holdover from a much

more severe and honest regime, but subsequent presents or constant flattery were not amiss in making him

"Then when you have been here two weeks," added Chapin, rather ruminatively (he had forgot to state this to

Cowperwood before), "the warden 'll come and git yuh and give yuh yer regular cell summers downstairs.

Yuh kin make up yer mind by that time what y'u'd like tuh do, what y'u'd like to work at. If you behave

yourself proper, more'n like 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 stood there, a little more depressed than

he had been, because of this latest intelligence. Only two weeks, and then he would be transferred from this

kindly old man's care to another's, whom he did not know and with whom he might not fare so well.

"If ever you want me for anythingif ye're sick or sumpin' like that," Chapin now returned to say, after he

had walked a few paces away, "we have a signal here of our own. Just hang your towel out through these here

The old man walked away, and Cowperwood heard his steps dying down the cementpaved hall. He stood

and listened, his ears being greeted occasionally 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 without linen,

and anything but wide or soft, and felt it curiously. So here was where he was to sleep from now onhe who

so craved and appreciated luxury and refinement. If Aileen or some of his rich friends should see him here.

Worse, he was sickened by the thought of possible vermin. How could he tell? How would he do? The one

chair was abominable. The skylight was weak. He tried to think of himself as becoming accustomed to the

situation, but he rediscovered the offal pot in one corner, and that discouraged him. It was possible that rats

might come up hereit looked that way. No pictures, no books, no scene, no person, no space to walkjust

the four bare walls and silence, which he would be shut into at night by the thick door. What a horrible fate!

He sat down and contemplated his situation. So here he was at last in the Eastern Penitentiary, and doomed,

according to the judgment of the politicians (Butler among others), to remain here four long years and longer.

Stener, it suddenly occurred to him, was probably being put through the same process he had just gone

through. Poor old Stener! What a fool he had made of himself. But because of his foolishness he deserved all

he was now getting. But the difference between himself and Stener was that they would let Stener out. It was

possible that already they were easing his punishment in some way that he, Cowperwood, did not know. He

put his hand to his chin, thinkinghis business, his house, his friends, his family, Aileen. He felt for his

watch, but remembered that they had taken that. There was no way of telling the time. Neither had he any

notebook, pen, or pencil with which to amuse or interest himself. Besides he had had nothing to eat since

morning. Still, that mattered little. What did matter was that he was shut up here away from the world, quite

alone, quite lonely, without knowing what time it was, and that he could not attend to any of the things he

ought to be attending tohis business affairs, his future. True, Steger would probably come to see him after

a while. That would help a little. But even sothink of his position, his prospects up to the day of the fire

and his state now. He sat looking at his shoes; his suit. God! He got up and walked to and fro, to and fro, but

his own steps and movements sounded so loud. He walked to the cell door and looked out through the thick

bars, but there was nothing to seenothing save a portion of two cell doors opposite, something like his

own. He came back and sat in his single chair, meditating, but, getting weary of that finally, stretched himself

on the dirty prison bed to try it. It was not uncomfortable entirely. He got up after a while, however, and sat,

then walked, then sat. What a narrow place to walk, he thought. This was horriblesomething like a living

tomb. And to think he should be here now, day after day and day after day, untiluntil what?

So he cogitated while the hours slipped by. It was nearly five o'clock before Steger was able to return, and

then only for a little while. He had been arranging for Cowperwood's appearance on the following Thursday,

Friday, and Monday in his several court proceedings. When he was gone, however, and the night fell and

Cowperwood had to trim his little, shabby oillamp and to drink the strong tea and eat the rough, poor bread

made of bran and white flour, which was shoved to him through the small aperture in the door by the trencher

trusty, who was accompanied by the overseer to see that it was done properly, he really felt very badly. And

after that the center wooden door of his cell was presently closed and locked by a trusty who slammed it

rudely and said no word. Nine o'clock would be sounded somewhere by a great bell, he understood, when his

smoky oillamp would have to be put out promptly and he would have to undress and go to bed. There were

punishments, no doubt, for infractions of these rulesreduced rations, the straitjacket, perhaps stripeshe

scarcely knew what. He felt disconsolate, grim, weary. He had put up such a long, unsatisfactory fight. After

washing his heavy stone cup and tin plate at the hydrant, he took off the sickening uniform and shoes and

even the drawers of the scratching underwear, and stretched himself wearily on the bed. The place was not

any too warm, and he tried to make himself comfortable between the blanketsbut it was of little use. His

"This will never do," he said to himself. "This will never do. I'm not sure whether I can stand much of this or

not." Still he turned his face to the wall, and after several hours sleep eventually came.

Those who by any pleasing courtesy of fortune, accident of birth, inheritance, or the wisdom of parents or

friends, have succeeded in avoiding making that anathema of the prosperous and comfortable, "a mess of

their lives," will scarcely understand the mood of Cowperwood, sitting rather gloomily in his cell these first

days, wondering what, in spite of his great ingenuity, was to become of him. The strongest have their hours of

depression. There are times when life to those endowed with the greatest intelligence perhaps mostly to

thosetakes on a somber hue. They see so many phases of its dreary subtleties. It is only when the soul of

man has been built up into some strange selfconfidence, 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 that Cowperwood's mind was of the first order. It was subtle

enough in all conscience and involved, as is common with the executively great, with a strong sense of

personal advancement. It was a powerful mind, turning, like a vast searchlight, a glittering ray into many a

dark corner; but it 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 was important for him. No doubt life held many

strange secrets. Perhaps it was essential that somebody should investigate them. However that might be, the

call of his own soul was in another direction. His business was to 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 been too disarranged and complicated by

unfortunate circumstances. He might, as Steger pointed out to him, string out these bankruptcy proceedings

for years, tiring out one creditor and another, but in the meantime the properties involved were being

seriously damaged. Interest charges on his unsatisfied loans were making heavy inroads; court costs were

mounting up; and, to cap it all, he had discovered with Steger that there were a number of creditorsthose

who had sold out to Butler, and incidentally to Mollenhauerwho would never accept anything except the

full value of their claims. His one hope now was to save what he could by compromise a little later, and to

build up some sort of profitable business through Stephen Wingate. The latter was coming in a day or two, as

soon as Steger had made some working arrangement for him with Warden Michael Desmas who came the

Desmas was a large man physicallyIrish by birth, a politician by trainingwho had been one thing and

another in Philadelphia from a policeman in his early days and a corporal in the Civil War to a ward captain

under Mollenhauer. He was a canny man, tall, rawboned, singularly muscularlooking, who for all his

fiftyseven years looked as though he could give a splendid account of himself in a physical contest. His

hands were large and bony, his face more square than either round or long, and his forehead high. He had a

vigorous growth of shortclipped, irongray hair, and a bristly irongray mustache, very short, keen,

intelligent bluegray eyes; a florid complexion; and evenedged, savagelooking teeth, which showed the

least bit in a slightly wolfish way when he smiled. However, he was not as cruel a person as he looked to be;

temperamental, to a certain extent hard, and on occasions savage, but with kindly hours also. His greatest

weakness was that he was not quite mentally able to recognize that there were mental and social differences

between prisoners, and that now and then one was apt to appear here who, with or without political

influences, was eminently worthy of special consideration. What he could recognize was the differences

pointed out to him by the politicians in special cases, such as that of Stenernot Cowperwood. However,

seeing that the prison was a public institution apt to be visited at any time by lawyers, detectives, doctors,

preachers, propagandists, and the public generally, and that certain rules and regulations had to be enforced

(if for no other reason than to keep a moral and administrative control over his own help), it was necessary to

maintainand that even in the face of the politiciana certain amount of discipline, system, and order, and

it was not possible to be too liberal with any one. There were, however, exceptional casesmen of wealth

and refinement, victims of those occasional uprisings which so shocked the political leaders generallywho

Desmas was quite aware, of course, of the history of Cowperwood and Stener. The politicians had already

given him warning that Stener, because of his past services to the community, was to be treated with special

consideration. Not so much was said about Cowperwood, although they did admit that his lot was rather hard.

"Butler is down on him," Strobik said to Desmas, on one occasion. "It's that girl of his that's at the bottom of

it all. If you listened to Butler 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 be where he is today. But the big fellows wouldn't

Although Strobik had been one of those who, under pressure from Mollenhauer, had advised Stener not to let

Cowperwood have any more money, yet here he was pointing out the folly of the victim's course. The

Desmas decided, therefore, that if Cowperwood were persona non grata to the "Big Three," it might be

necessary to be indifferent to him, or at least slow in extending him any special favors. For Stener a good

chair, clean linen, special cutlery and dishes, the daily papers, privileges in the matter of mail, the visits of

friends, and the like. For Cowperwoodwell, he would have to look at Cowperwood and see what he

thought. At the same time, Steger's intercessions were not without their effect on Desmas. So the morning

after Cowperwood's entrance the warden received a letter from Terrence Relihan, the Harrisburg potentate,

indicating that any kindness shown to Mr. Cowperwood would be duly appreciated by him. Upon the receipt

of this letter Desmas went up and looked through Cowperwood's iron door. On the way he had a brief talk

Desmas had never seen Cowperwood before, but in spite of the shabby uniform, the clog shoes, the cheap

shirt, and the wretched cell, he was impressed. Instead of the weak, anaemic body and the shifty eyes of the

average prisoner, he saw a man whose face and form blazed energy and power, and whose vigorous erectness

no wretched clothes or conditions could demean. He lifted his head when Desmas appeared, glad that any

form should have appeared at his door, and looked at him with large, clear, examining eyesthose eyes that

in the past had inspired so much confidence and surety in all those who had known him. Desmas was stirred.

Compared with Stener, whom he knew in the past and whom he had met on his entry, this man was a force.

Say what you will, one vigorous man inherently respects another. And Desmas was vigorous physically. He

eyed Cowperwood and Cowperwood eyed him. Instinctly Desmas liked him. He was like one tiger looking at

Instinctively Cowperwood knew that he was the warden. This is Mr. Desmas, isn't it?" he asked, courteously

"Yes, sir, I'm the man," replied Desmas interestedly. "These rooms are not as comfortable as they might be,

"They certainly are not, Mr. Desmas," replied Cowperwood, standing very erect and soldierlike. "I didn't

"There isn't anything special I can do for you, is there, Mr. Cowperwood?" began Desmas curiously, for he

was moved by a thought that at 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 gratified by the Mr. So that was the way the wind was

blowing. Well, then, within reason, things might not prove so bad here. He would see. He would sound this

"I don't want to be asking anything, Warden, which you cannot reasonably give," 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. This that 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 Pennsylvania somewhere. I suppose there's no objection to your wearing your own underwear if you

want to. I'll see about that. And the sheets, too. We might let you use them if you have them. We'll have to go

a little slow about this. There are a lot of people that take a special interest in showing the warden how to tend

"I can readily understand that, Warden," went on Cowperwood briskly, "and I'm certainly very much obliged

to you. You may be sure that anything you do for me here will be appreciated, and not misused, and that I

have friends on the outside who can reciprocate for me in the course of time." He talked slowly and

emphatically, looking Desmas directly 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 be friendly. "I can't promise much. Prison rules

are prison rules. But there are some things that can be done, because it's the rule to do them for other men

when they behave themselves. You can have a better chair than that, if you want it, and something to read

too. If you're in business yet, I wouldn't want to do anything to stop that. We can't have people running in and

out of here every fifteen minutes, and you can't turn a cell into a business office that's not possible. It

would break up the order of the place. Still, there's no reason why you shouldn't see some of your friends now

and then. As for your mailwell, that will have to be opened in the ordinary way for the time being,

anyhow. I'll have to see about that. I can't promise too much. You'll have to wait until you come out of this

block and downstairs. Some of the cells have a yard there; if there are any empty" The warden cocked his

eye wisely, and Cowperwood saw that his tot was not to be as bad as he had anticipatedthough bad

enough. The warden spoke to him about the different trades he might follow, and asked him to think about

the one he would prefer. "You want to have something to keep your hands busy, whatever else you want.

You'll find you'll need that. Everybody here wants to work after a time. I notice that."

Cowperwood understood and thanked Desmas profusely. The horror of idleness in silence and in a cell

scarcely large enough to turn around in comfortably had already begun to creep over him, and the thought of

being able to see Wingate and Steger frequently, and to have his mail reach him, after a time, untampered

with, was a great relief. He was to have his own underwear, silk and wool thank God!and perhaps they

would let him take off these shoes after a while. With these modifications and a trade, and perhaps the little

yard which Desmas had referred to, his life would be, if not ideal, at least tolerable. The prison was still a

prison, but it looked as though it might not be so much 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 the general nature of prison life; for this was not an ordinary penitentiary

in the sense that the prison yard, the prison squad, the prison lockstep, the prison diningroom, and prison

associated labor make the ordinary penitentiary. There was, for him and for most of those confined there, no

general prison life whatsoever. The large majority were supposed to work silently in their cells at the

particular tasks assigned them, and not to know anything of the remainder of the life which went on around

them, the rule of this prison being solitary confinement, and few being permitted to work at the limited

number of outside menial tasks provided. Indeed, as he sensed and as old Chapin soon informed him, not

more than seventyfive of the four hundred prisoners confined here were so employed, and not all of these

regularlycooking, gardening in season, milling, and general cleaning being the only avenues of escape

from solitude. Even those who so worked were strictly forbidden to talk, and although they did not have to

wear the objectionable hood when actually employed, they were supposed to wear it in going to and from

their work. Cowperwood saw them occasionally tramping by his cell door, and it struck him as strange,

uncanny, grim. He wished sincerely at times since old Chapin was so genial and talkative that he were to be

His two weeks soon passeddrearily enough in all conscience but they passed, interlaced with his few

commonplace tasks of bedmaking, floorsweeping, dressing, eating, undressing, rising at fivethirty, and

retiring at nine, washing his several dishes after each meal, etc. He thought he would never get used to the

food. Breakfast, as has been said, was at sixthirty, and consisted of coarse black bread made of bran and

some white flour, and served with black coffee. Dinner was at eleventhirty, and consisted of bean or

vegetable soup, with some coarse meat in it, and the same bread. Supper was at six, of tea and bread, very

strong tea and the same breadno butter, no milk, no sugar. Cowperwood did not smoke, so the small

allowance of tobacco which was permitted was without value to him. Steger called in every day for two or

three weeks, and after the second day, Stephen Wingate, as his new business associate, was permitted to see

him alsoonce every day, if he wished, Desmas stated, though the latter felt he was stretching a point in

permitting this so soon. Both of these visits rarely occupied more than an hour, or an hour and a half, and

after that the day was long. He was taken out on several days on a court order, between nine and five, to

testify in the bankruptcy proceedings against him, which caused the time in the beginning to pass quickly.

It was curious, once he was in prison, safely shut from the world for a period of years apparently, how

quickly all thought of assisting him departed from the minds of those who had been most friendly. He was

done, so most of them thought. The only thing they could do now would be to use their influence to get him

out some time; how soon, they could not guess. Beyond that there was nothing. He would really never be of

any great importance to any one any more, or so they thought. It was very sad, very tragic, but he was

"A bright young man, that," observed President Davison of the Girard National, on reading of Cowperwood's

Only his parents, Aileen, and his wifethe latter with mingled feelings of resentment and sorrowreally

missed him. Aileen, because of her great passion for him, was suffering most of all. Four years and three

months; she thought. If he did not get out before then she would be nearing twentynine and he would be

nearing forty. Would he want her then? Would she be so attractive? And would nearly five years change his

point of view? He would have to wear a convict suit all that time, and be known as a convict forever after. It

was hard to think about, but only made her more than ever determined to cling to him, whatever happened,

Indeed the day after his incarceration she drove out and looked at the grim, gray walls of the penitentiary.

Knowing nothing absolutely of the vast and complicated processes of law and penal servitude, it seemed

especially 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, the pity of it all! The pity! The pity of herselfher great love for him!

She drove home, determined to see him; but as he had originally told her that visiting days were only once in

three months, and that he would have to write her when the next one was, or when she could come, or when

he could see her on the outside, she scarcely knew what to do. Secrecy was the thing.

The next day, however, she wrote him just the same, describing the drive she had taken on the stormy

afternoon beforethe terror of the thought that he was behind those grim gray wallsand declaring her

determination to see him soon. And this letter, under the new arrangement, he received at once. He wrote her

My sweet girl:I fancy you are a little downhearted to think I cannot be with you any more soon, but you

mustn't be. I suppose you read all about the sentence in the paper. I came out here the same morningnearly

noon. If I had time, dearest, I'd write you a long letter 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 must be careful how you try to see me at first. You can't do me much

service outside 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 and that you had best give me up, although I know you do not

think so, and I 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 me there. I'll be out in charge of my counsel. You must be careful.

This last touch was one of pure gloom, the first Cowperwood had ever introduced into their relationship but

conditions had changed him. Hitherto he had been in the position of the superior being, the one who was

being soughtalthough Aileen was and had been well worth seekingand he had thought that he might

escape unscathed, and so grow in dignity and power until she might not possibly be worthy of him any

longer. He had had that thought. But here, in stripes, it was a different matter. Aileen's position, reduced in

value as it was by her long, ardent relationship with him, was now, nevertheless, superior to hisapparently

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 become a 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 wait for him. Her life was not yet ruined. The public did not

know, so he thought not generally anyhowthat she had been his mistress. She might marry. Why not,

and so pass out of his life forever. And would not that be sad for him? And yet did he not owe it to her, to a

sense of fair play in himself to ask her to give him up, or at least think over the wisdom of doing so?

He did her the justice to believe that she would not want to give him up; and in his position, however harmful

it might be to her, it was an advantage, a connecting link with the finest period of his past life, to have her

continue to love him. He could not, however, scribbling this note in his cell in Wingate's presence, and giving

it to him to mail (Overseer Chapin was kindly keeping a respectful distance, though he was supposed to be

present), refrain from adding, at the last moment, this little touch of doubt which, when she read it, struck

Aileen to the heart. She read it as gloom on his partas 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 was madly 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 familyhis mother and father, his brother, his wife, and

his sisterCowperwood made it plain to them on one of the days on which he was out attending a

bankruptcy hearing, that even providing it could be arranged he did not think they should come oftener than

once in three months, unless he wrote them or sent word by Steger. The truth was that he really did not care

to see much of any of them at present. He was sick of the whole social scheme of things. In fact he wanted to

be rid of the turmoil he had been in, seeing it had proved so useless. He had used nearly fifteen thousand

dollars thus far in defending himselfcourt costs, family maintenance, Steger, etc.; but he did not mind that.

He expected to make some little money working through Wingate. His family were not utterly without funds,

sufficient to live on in a small way. He had advised them to remove into houses more in keeping with their

reduced circumstances, which they had donehis mother and father and brothers and sister to a threestory

brick house of about the caliber of the old Buttonwood Street house, and his wife to a smaller, less expensive

twostory one on North Twentyfirst Street, near the penitentiary, a portion of the money saved out of the

thirtyfive thousand dollars extracted from Stener under false pretenses aiding to sustain it. Of course all this

was a terrible descent from the Girard Avenue mansion for the elder Cowperwood; for here was none of the

furniture which characterized the other somewhat gorgeous domicilemerely storebought, readymade

furniture, and neat but cheap hangings and fixtures generally. The assignees, to whom all Cowperwood's

personal property belonged, and to whom Cowperwood, the elder, had surrendered all his holdings, would

not permit anything of importance to be removed. It had all to be sold for the benefit of creditors. A few very

small things, but only a few, had been kept, as everything had been inventoried some time before. One of the

things which old Cowperwood wanted was his own desk which Frank had had designed for him; but as it was

valued at five hundred dollars and could 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 had to let the desk go. There were many

things they all wanted, and Anna Adelaide had literally purloined a few though she did not admit the fact to

There came a day when the two houses in Girard Avenue were the scene of a sheriffs sale, during which the

general public, without let or hindrance, was permitted to tramp through the rooms and examine the pictures,

statuary, and objects of art generally, which were auctioned off to the highest bidder. Considerable fame had

attached to Cowperwood's activities in this field, owing in the first place to the real merit of what he had

brought together, and in the next place to the enthusiastic comment of such men as Wilton Ellsworth,

Fletcher Norton, Gordon Strakearchitects and art dealers whose judgment and taste were considered

important in Philadelphia. All of the lovely things by which he had set great storesmall bronzes,

representative of the best period of the Italian Renaissance; bits of Venetian glass which he had collected with

great carea full curio case; statues by Powers, Hosmer, and Thorwaldsenthings which would be smiled

at thirty years later, but which were of high value then; all of his pictures by representative American painters

from Gilbert to Eastman Johnson, together with a few specimens 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, were disposed of at much too low a figure. Strake, Norton,

and Ellsworth were all present and bought liberally. Senator Simpson, Mollenhauer, and Strobik came to see

what they could see. The smallfry politicians were there, en masse. But Simpson, calm judge of good art,

secured practically the best of all that was offered. To him went the curio case of Venetian glass; one pair of

tall blueandwhite Mohammedan cylindrical vases; fourteen examples of Chinese jade, including several

artists' waterdishes and a pierced windowscreen of the faintest tinge of green. To Mollenhauer went the

furniture and decorations of the entryhall and receptionroom of Henry Cowperwood's house, and to

Edward Strobik two of Cowperwood's bird'seye maple bedroom suites for the most modest of prices. Adam

Davis was present and secured the secretaire of buhl which the elder Cowperwood prized so highly. To

Fletcher Norton went the four Greek vasesa kylix, a waterjar, and two amphoraewhich he had sold to

Cowperwood and which he valued highly. Various objects of art, including a Sevres dinner set, a Gobelin

tapestry, Barye bronzes and pictures by Detaille, Fortuny, and George Inness, went to Walter Leigh, 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 their contents. Even the objects in the

house at 931 North Tenth Street had been withdrawn from storage where they had been placed at the time it

was deemed advisable to close this institution, and placed on sale with the other objects in the two homes. It

was at this time that the senior Cowperwoods first learned of something which seemed to indicate a mystery

which had existed in connection with their son and his wife. No one of all the Cowperwoods was present

during all this gloomy distribution; and Aileen, reading of the disposition of all the wares, and knowing their

value to Cowperwood, to say nothing of their charm for her, was greatly depressed; yet she was not long

despondent, for she was convinced that Cowperwood would some day regain his liberty and attain a position

of even greater significance in the financial world. She could not have said why but she was sure of it.

In the meanwhile Cowperwood had been transferred to a new overseer and a new cell in Block 3 on the

ground door, which was like all the others in size, ten by sixteen, but to which was attached the small yard

previously mentioned. Warden Desmas came up two days before he was transferred, and had another short

"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 youwe only allow a halfhour a day in it. I've told the overseer about your business

arrangements. He'll treat you right in that matter. Just be careful 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 for you. It's easy, and it'll

The warden and some allied politicians made a good thing out of this prison industry. It was really not hard

laborthe tasks set were simple and not oppressive, but all of the products were promptly sold, and the

profits pocketed. It was good, therefore, to see all the prisoners working, and it did them good. Cowperwood

was glad of the chance to do something, for he really did not care so much for books, and his connection with

Wingate and his old affairs were not sufficient to employ his mind in a satisfactory way. At the same time, he

could not help thinking, if he seemed strange to himself, now, how much stranger he would seem then,

behind these narrow bars working at so commonplace a task as caning chairs. Nevertheless, he now thanked

Desmas for this, as well as for the sheets and the toilet articles which had just been brought in.

"That's all right," replied the latter, pleasantly and softly, by now much 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 wants to

The new overseer with whom Cowperwood had to deal was a very different person from Elias Chapin. His

name was Walter Bonhag, and he was not more than thirtyseven years of agea big, flabby sort of person

with a crafty mind, whose principal object in life was to see that this prison situation as he found it should

furnish him a better income than his normal salary provided. A close study of Bonhag would have seemed to

indicate that he was a stoolpigeon of Desmas, but this was really not true except in a limited way. Because

Bonhag was shrewd and sycophantic, quick to see a point in his or anybody else's favor, Desmas instinctively

realized that he was the kind of man who could be trusted to be lenient on order or suggestion. That is, if

Desmas had the least interest in a prisoner he need scarcely say so much to Bonhag; he might merely suggest

that this man was used to a different kind of life, or that, because of some past experience, it might go hard

with him if be were handled roughly; and Bonhag would strain himself to be pleasant. The trouble was that to

a shrewd man of any refinement his attentions were objectionable, being obviously offered for a purpose, and

to a poor or ignorant man they were brutal and contemptuous. He had built up an extra income for himself

inside the prison by selling the prisoners extra allowances of things which he secretly brought into the prison.

It was strictly against the rules, in theory at least, to bring in anything which was not sold in the

storeroomtobacco, writing paper, pens, ink, whisky, cigars, or delicacies of any kind. On the other hand,

and excellently well for him, it was true that tobacco of an inferior grade was provided, as well as wretched

pens, ink and paper, so that no selfrespecting man, if he could help it, would endure them. Whisky was not

allowed at all, and delicacies were abhorred as indicating rank favoritism; nevertheless, they were brought in.

If a prisoner had the money and was willing to see that Bonhag secured something for his trouble, almost

anything would be forthcoming. Also the privilege of being sent into the general yard as a "trusty," or being

allowed to stay in the little private yard which some cells possessed, longer than the halfhour ordinarily

One of the things curiously enough at this time, which worked in Cowperwood's favor, was the fact that

Bonhag was friendly with the overseer who had Stener in charge, and Stener, because of his political friends,

was being liberally treated, and Bonhag knew of this. He was not a careful reader of newspapers, nor had he

any intellectual grasp of important events; but he knew by now that both Stener and Cowperwood were, 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

was permitted to read the paper, told him so. And so, entirely aside from Warden Desmas's recommendation,

which was given in a very quiet, noncommittal way, Bonhag was interested to see what he could do for

The day Cowperwood was installed in his new cell, Bonhag lolled up to the door, which was open, and said,

in a semipatronizing way, "Got all your things over yet?" It was his business to lock the door once

"Yes, sir," replied Cowperwood, who had been shrewd enough to get the new overseer's name from Chapin;

"That's me," replied Bonhag, not a little flattered by the recognition, but still purely interested by the practical

side of this encounter. He was anxious to study Cowperwood, to see what type of man he was.

"You'll find it a little different down here from up there," observed Bonhag. "It ain't so stuffy. These doors

"Oh, yes," said Cowperwood, observantly and shrewdly, "that is the yard Mr. Desmas spoke of."

At the mention of the magic name, if Bonhag had been a horse, his ears would have been seen to lift. For, of

course, if Cowperwood was so friendly with Desmas that the latter had described to him the type of cell he

"Yes, that's it, but it ain't much," he observed. "They only allow a halfhour a day in it. Still it would be all

This was his first hint at graft, favoritism; and Cowperwood distinctly caught the sound of it in his voice.

"That's too bad," he said. "I don't suppose good conduct helps a person to get more." He waited to hear a

reply, but instead Bonhag continued with: "I'd better teach you your new trade now. You've got to learn to

cane chairs, so the warden says. If you want, we can begin right away." But without waiting for Cowperwood

to acquiesce, he went off, returning after a time with three unvarnished frames of chairs and a bundle of cane

strips or withes, which he deposited on the floor. Having so doneand with a flourishhe now continued:

"Now I'll show you if you'll watch me," and he began showing Cowperwood how the strips were to be laced

through the apertures on either side, cut, and fastened with little hickory pegs. This done, he brought a forcing

awl, a small hammer, a box of pegs, and a pair of clippers. After several brief demonstrations with different

strips, as to how the geometric forms were designed, he allowed Cowperwood to take the matter in hand,

watching over his shoulder. The financier, quick at anything, manual or mental, went at it in his customary

energetic fashion, and in five minutes demonstrated to Bonhag that, barring skill and speed, which could only

come with practice, he could do it as well as another. "You'll make out all right," said Bonhag. "You're

supposed to do ten of those a day. We won't count the next few days, though, until you get your hand in.

After that I'll come around and see how you're getting along. You understand about the towel on the door,

"Yes, Mr. Chapin explained that to me," replied Cowperwood. "I think I know what most of the rules are

The days which followed brought a number of modifications of his prison lot, but not sufficient by any means

to make it acceptable to him. Bonhag, during the first few days in which he trained Cowperwood in the art of

caning chairs, managed to make it perfectly clear that there were a number of things he would be willing to

do for him. One of the things that moved him to this, was that already he had been impressed by the fact that

Stener's friends were coming to see him in larger numbers than Cowperwood's, sending him an occasional

basket of fruit, which he gave to the overseers, and that his wife and children had been already permitted to

visit him outside the regular visitingday. This was a cause for jealousy on Bonhag's part. His

fellowoverseer was lording it over himtelling 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 partner here 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 sister or

anybody like that, except on visiting days" And here he paused and rolled a large and informing eye on

Cowperwoodsuch an eye as was supposed to convey dark and mysterious things. "But all the rules ain't

Cowperwood was not the man to lose a chance of this kind. He smiled a littleenough to relieve himself,

and to convey to Bonhag that he was gratified by the information, but vocally he observed: "I'll tell you how

it is, Mr. Bonhag. I believe you understand my position better than most men would, and that I can talk to

you. There are people who would like to come here, but I have been afraid to let them come. I did not know

that it could be arranged. If it could be, I would be very grateful. You and I are practical menI know that if

any favors are extended some of those who help to bring them about must be looked after. If you can do

anything to make it a little more comfortable for me here I will show you that I appreciate it. I haven't any

money on my person, but I can always get it, and I will see that you are properly looked after."

Bonhag's short, thick ears tingled. This was the kind of talk he liked to 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 at any time, just

let me know. Of course I have to be very careful, and so do you, but that's all right, too. If you want to stay

out in that yard a 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 door open. If the warden or anybody else should be around, I'll just

scratch on your door with my key, and you come in and shut it. If there's anything you want from the outside

I can get it for youjelly or eggs or butter or any little thing like that. You might like to fix up your meals a

"I'm certainly most grateful, Mr. Bonhag," returned Cowperwood in his grandest manner, and with a desire to

"In regard to that other matter," went on Bonhag, referring to the matter of extra visitors, "I can fix that any

time you want to. I know the 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 'em in your cell. See! Only when I tap they have to come out. You want to remember that. So just

Cowperwood was exceedingly grateful. He said so in direct, choice language. It occurred to him at once that

this was Aileen's opportunity, and that he could now notify her to come. If she veiled herself sufficiently she

would probably be safe enough. He decided to write her, and when Wingate came he gave him a letter to

Two days later, at three o'clock in the afternoonthe time appointed by himAileen came to see him. She

was dressed in gray broadcloth with whitevelvet trimmings and cutsteel buttons which glistened like

silver, and wore, as additional ornaments, as well as a protection against the cold, a cap, stole, and muff of

snowwhite ermine. Over this rather striking costume she had slipped a long dark circular cloak, which she

meant to lay off immediately upon her arrival. She had made a very careful toilet as to her shoes, gloves, hair,

and the gold ornaments 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 as he had been able to prearrange, he would be alone.

Wingate usually came at four, after business, and Steger in the morning, when he came at all. She was very

nervous over this strange adventure, leaving the streetcar in which she had chosen to travel some distance

away and walking up a side street. The cold weather and the gray walls under a gray sky gave her a sense of

defeat, but she had worked very hard to look nice in order to cheer her lover up. She knew how readily he

Cowperwood, in view of her coming, had made his cell as acceptable as possible. It was clean, because he

had swept it himself and made his own bed; and besides he had shaved and combed his hair, and otherwise

put himself to rights. The caned chairs on which he was working had been put in the corner at the end of the

bed. His few dishes were washed and hung up, and his clogs brushed with a brush which he now kept for the

purpose. Never before, he thought to himself, with a peculiar feeling of artistic degradation, had Aileen seen

him like this. She had always admired his good taste in clothes, and the way he carried himself in them; and

now she was to see him in garments which no dignity of body could make presentable. Only a stoic sense of

his own souldignity aided him 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 he knew, would

make no difference to Aileen. She would only love him the more. It was her ardent sympathy that he was

afraid of. He was so glad that Bonhag had suggested that she might enter the cell, for it would be a grim

When Aileen arrived she asked for Mr. Bonhag, and was permitted to go to the 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 his corridor he was struck by the

evident youth of Aileen, even though he could not see her face. This now was something in accordance with

what he had expected of Cowperwood. A man who could steal five hundred thousand dollars and set a whole

city by the ears must have wonderful adventures of all kinds, and Aileen looked like a true adventure. He led

her to the little room where he kept his desk and detained visitors, and then bustled down to Cowperwood's

cell, where the financier was working on one of his chairs and scratching on the door with his key, called:

"Thank you, yes," replied Cowperwood; and Bonhag hurried away, unintentionally forgetting, in his boorish

incivility, to unlock the cell door, so that he had to open it in Aileen's presence. The long corridor, with its

thick doors, mathematically spaced gratings and graystone pavement, caused Aileen to feel faint at heart. A

prison, iron cells! And he was in one of them. It chilled her usually courageous spirit. What a terrible place

for her Frank to be! What a horrible thing to have put him here! Judges, juries, courts, laws, jails seemed like

so many foaming ogres ranged about the world, glaring down upon her and her loveaffair. The clank of the

key in the lock, and the heavy outward swinging of the door, completed her sense of the untoward. And then

Because of the price he was to receive, Bonhag, after admitting her, strolled discreetly away. Aileen looked at

Cowperwood from behind her veil, afraid to speak until she was sure Bonhag had gone. And Cowperwood,

who was retaining his selfpossession by an effort, signaled her but with difficulty after a moment or two.

"It's all right," he said. "He's gone away." She lifted her veil, removed her cloak, and took in, without seeming

to, the stuffy, narrow thickness of the room, his wretched shoes, the cheap, misshapen suit, the iron door

behind him leading out into the little yard attached to his cell. Against such a background, with his partially

caned chairs visible at the end of the bed, 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 only put her arms around him and stroke his

head, murmuring: "My poor boymy darling. Is this what they have done to you? Oh, my poor darling." She

held his head while Cowperwood, anxious to retain his composure, winced and trembled, too. Her love was

so fullso genuine. It was so soothing at the same time that it was unmanning, as now he could see, making

of him a child again. And for the first time in his life, some inexplicable trick of chemistry that chemistry

of the body, of blind forces which so readily supersedes reason at timeshe lost his selfcontrol. The depth

of Aileen's feelings, the cooing sound of her voice, the velvety tenderness of her hands, that beauty that had

drawn him all the timemore radiant here perhaps within these hard walls, and in the face of his physical

misery, than it had ever been before completely unmanned him. He did not understand how it could; he

tried to defy the moods, 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, and his 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 picture of the great world he had so recently lost, of the lovely,

magnificent world which he hoped some day to regain. He felt more poignantly at this moment than ever he

had before the degradation of the clog shoes, the cotton shirt, the striped suit, the reputation of a convict,

permanent and not to be laid aside. He drew himself quickly away from her, turned his back, clinched his

hands, drew his muscles taut; but it was too late. He was crying, and he could not stop.

"Oh, damn it!" he exclaimed, half angrily, half selfcommiseratingly, in combined rage and shame. "Why

Aileen saw it. She fairly flung herself in front of him, seized his head with one hand, his shabby waist with

the other, and held him tight in a grip that he could not have readily released.

"Oh, honey, honey, honey!" she exclaimed, pityingly feverishly. "I love you, I adore you. They could cut my

body into bits if it would do you any good. To think that they should make you cry! Oh, my sweet, my sweet,

She pulled his still shaking body tighter, and with her free hand caressed his head. She kissed his eyes, his

hair, his cheeks. He pulled himself loose again after a moment, exclaiming, "What the devil's got into me?"

"Never mind, honey darling, don't you be ashamed to cry. Cry here on my shoulder. Cry here with me. My

He quieted down after a few moments, cautioning her against Bonhag, and regaining his former composure,

"You're a great girl, pet," he said, with a tender and yet apologetic smile. "You're all rightall that I needa

great help to me; but don't worry any longer about me, dear. I'm all right. It isn't as bad as you think. How are

Aileen on her part was not to be soothed so easily. His many woes, including his wretched position here,

outraged her sense of justice and decency. To think her fine, wonderful Frank should be compelled to come

to thisto cry. She stroked his head, tenderly, while wild, deadly, unreasoning opposition to life and chance

and untoward opposition surged in her brain. Her fatherdamn him! Her family pooh! What did she care?

Her Frankher Frank. How little all else mattered where he was concerned. Never, never, never would she

desert himnevercome what might. And now she clung to him in silence while she fought in her brain an

awful battle with life and law and fate and circumstance. Lawnonsense! People they were brutes, devils,

enemies, hounds! She was delighted, eager, crazy to make a sacrifice of herself. She would go anywhere for

or with her Frank now. She would do anything for him. Her family was nothinglife nothing, nothing,

nothing. She would do anything he wished, nothing more, nothing less; anything she could do to save him, to

The days passed. Once the understanding with Bonhag was reached, Cowperwood's wife, mother and sister

were allowed to appear on occasions. His wife and the children were now settled in the little home for which

he was paying, and his financial obligations to her were satisfied by Wingate, who paid her one hundred and

twenty five dollars a month for him. He realized that he owed her more, but he was sailing rather close to the

wind financially, these days. The final collapse of his old interests had come in March, when he had been

legally declared a bankrupt, and all his properties forfeited to satisfy the claims against him. The city's claim

of five hundred thousand dollars would have eaten up more than could have been realized at the time, had not

a pro rata payment of thirty cents on the dollar been declared. Even then the city never received its due, for by

some hocuspocus it was declared to have forfeited its rights. Its claims had not been made at the proper time

Fortunately by now Cowperwood had begun to see that by a little experimenting his business relations with

Wingate were likely to prove profitable. The broker had made it clear that he intended to be perfectly straight

with him. He had employed Cowperwood's two brothers, at very moderate salariesone to take care of the

books and look after the office, and the other to act on 'change with him, for their seats in that organization

had never been sold. And also, by considerable effort, he had succeeded in securing Cowperwood, Sr., a

place as a clerk in a bank. For the latter, since the day of his resignation from the Third National had been in a

deep, sad quandary as to what further to do with his 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 and commitment to the

Eastern Penitentiary, he was as one who walked in a dream. That trial! That charge against Frank! His own

son, a convict in stripesand after he and Frank had walked so proudly in the front rank of the successful

and respected here. Like so many others in his hour of distress, he had taken to reading the Bible, looking into

its pages for something of that mind consolation that always, from youth up, although rather casually in these

latter years, he had imagined was to be found there. The Psalms, Isaiah, the Book of Job, Ecclesiastes. And

for the most part, because of the fraying nature of his present ills, not finding it.

But day after day secreting himself in his rooma little hallbedroom office in his newest home, where to

his wife, he pretended that he had some commercial matters wherewith he was still concerned and once

inside, the door locked, sitting and brooding on all that had befallen himhis losses; his good name. Or,

after months of this, and because of the new position secured for him by Wingate a bookkeeping job in one

of the outlying banksslipping away early in the morning, and returning late at night, his mind a gloomy

To see him bustling off from his new but very much reduced home at half after seven in the morning in order

to reach the small bank, which was some distance away and not accessible by streetcar line, was one of

those pathetic sights which the fortunes of trade so frequently offer. He carried his lunch in a small box

because it was inconvenient to return home in the time allotted for this purpose, and because his new salary

did not permit the extravagance of a purchased one. It was his one ambition now to eke out a respectable but

unseen existence until he should die, which he hoped would not be long. He was a pathetic figure with his

thin legs and body, his gray hair, and his snowwhite sidewhiskers. He was very lean and angular, and,

when confronted by a difficult problem, a little uncertain or vague in his mind. An old habit which had grown

on him in the years of his prosperity of putting his hand 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 its shores 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, was how he would bring up this matter of his indifference to his wife and his

desire to end their relationship. Yet apart from the brutality of the plain truth, he saw no way. As he could

plainly see, she was now persisting in her pretense of devotion, uncolored, apparently, by any suspicion of

what had happened. Yet since his trial and conviction, she had been hearing from one source and another that

he was still intimate with Aileen, and it was only her thought of his concurrent woes, and the fact 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 said to herself, and she was really very sorry for him, but she did not love him as she once had.

He was really too deserving of reproach for his general unseemly conduct, and no doubt this was what was

One can imagine how much such an attitude as this would appeal to Cowperwood, once he had detected it.

By a dozen little signs, in spite of the fact that she brought him delicacies, and commiserated on his fate, he

could see that she felt not only sad, but reproachful, and if there was one thing that Cowperwood objected to

at all times it was the moral as well as the funereal air. Contrasted with the cheerful combative hopefulness

and enthusiasm of Aileen, the wearied uncertainty of Mrs. Cowperwood was, to say the least, a little tame.

Aileen, after her first burst of rage over his fate, which really did not develop any tears on her part, was

apparently convinced that he would get out and be very successful again. She talked success and his future all

the time because she believed in it. Instinctively she seemed to realize that prison walls could not make a

prison for him. Indeed, on the first day she left she handed Bonhag ten dollars, and after thanking him in her

attractive voicewithout showing her face, howeverfor his obvious kindness to her, bespoke his further

favor for Cowperwood"a very great man," as she described him, which sealed that ambitious materialist's

fate completely. There was nothing the overseer would not do for the young lady in the dark cloak. She might

have stayed in Cowperwood's cell for a week if the visitinghours of the penitentiary had not made it

The day that Cowperwood decided to discuss with his wife the weariness of his present married state and his

desire to be free of it was some four months after he had entered the prison. By that time he had become

inured to his convict life. The silence of his cell and the menial tasks he was compelled to perform, which had

at first been so distressing, banal, maddening, in their pointless iteration, had now become merely

commonplacedull, but not painful. Furthermore he had learned many of the little resources of the solitary

convict, such as that of using his lamp to warm up some delicacy which he had saved from a previous meal or

from some basket which had been sent him by his wife or Aileen. He had partially gotten rid of the sickening

odor of his cell by persuading Bonhag to bring him small packages of lime; which he used with great

freedom. Also he succeeded in defeating some of the more venturesome rats with traps; and with Bonhag's

permission, after his cell door had been properly locked at night, and sealed with the outer wooden door, he

would take his chair, if it were not too cold, out into the little back yard 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 astronomy as a

scientific study, but now the Pleiades, the belt of Orion, the Big Dipper and the North Star, to which one of

its lines pointed, caught his attention, almost his fancy. He wondered why the stars of the belt of Orion came

to assume the peculiar mathematical relation to each other which they held, as far as distance and

arrangement were concerned, and whether that could possibly have any intellectual significance. The

nebulous conglomeration of the suns in Pleiades suggested a soundless depth of space, and he thought of the

earth floating like a little ball in immeasurable reaches of ether. His own life appeared very trivial in view of

these things, and he found himself asking whether it was all really of any significance or importance. He

shook these moods off with ease, however, for the man was possessed of a sense of grandeur, largely in

relation to himself and his affairs; and his temperament was essentially material and vital. Something kept

telling him that whatever his present state he must yet grow to be a significant personage, one whose fame

would be heralded the world overwho must try, try, try. It was not given ail men to see far or to do

brilliantly; but to him it was given, and he must be what he was cut out to be. There was no more escaping

the greatness that was inherent in him than there was for so many others the littleness that was in them.

Mrs. Cowperwood came in that afternoon quite solemnly, bearing several changes of linen, a pair of sheets,

some potted meat and a pie. She was not exactly doleful, but Cowperwood thought that she was tending

toward it, largely because of her brooding over his relationship to Aileen, which he knew that she knew.

Something in her manner decided him to speak before she left; and after asking her how the children were,

and listening to her inquiries in regard to the things that he needed, he said to her, sitting on his single chair

"Lillian, there's something I've been wanting to talk with you about for some time. I should have done it

before, but it's better late than never. I know that you know that there is something between Aileen Butler and

me, and we might as well have it open and aboveboard. It's true I am very fond of her and she is very devoted

to me, and if ever I get out of here I want to arrange it so that I can marry her. That means that you will have

to give me a divorce, if you will; and I want to talk to 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't been all that it might

have been, and under the circumstances this can't prove such a very great hardship to youI am sure." He

Her thought, when he first broached this, was that she ought to make some demonstration of astonishment or

wrath: but when she looked into his steady, examining eyes, so free from the illusion of or interest in

demonstrations of any kind, she realized how useless it would be. He was so utterly matteroffact in what

seemed to her quite private and secret affairsvery shameless. She had never been able to understand quite

how he could take the subtleties of life as he did, anyhow. Certain things which she always fancied should be

hushed up he spoke of with the greatest nonchalance. Her ears tingled sometimes at his frankness in

disposing of a social situation; but she thought this must be characteristic of notable men, and so there was

nothing to be said about it. Certain men did as they pleased; society did not seem to be able to deal with them

in any way. Perhaps God would, latershe was not sure. Anyhow, bad as he was, direct as he was, forceful

as he was, he was far more interesting than most of the more conservative types in whom the social virtues of

"I know," she said, rather peacefully, although with a touch of anger and resentment in her voice. "I've known

all about it all this time. I expected you would say something like this to me some day. It's a nice reward for

all my devotion to you; but it's just like you, Frank. When you are set on something, nothing can stop you. It

wasn't enough that you were getting along so nicely and had two children whom you ought to love, but you

had to take up with this Butler creature until her name and yours are a byword throughout the city. I know

that she comes to this prison. I saw her out here one day as I was coming in, and I suppose every one else

knows it by now. She has no sense of decency and she does not carethe wretched, vain thingbut I would

have thought that you would be ashamed, Frank, to go on the way that you have, when you still have me and

the children and your father and mother and when you 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 to do with youthe

Cowperwood looked at his wife with unflinching eyes. He read in her remarks just what his observation had

long since confirmed that she was sympathetically out of touch with him. She was no longer so attractive

physically, and intellectually she was not Aileen's equal. Also that contact with those women who had

deigned to grace his home in his greatest hour of prosperity had proved to him conclusively she was lacking

in certain social graces. Aileen was by no means so vastly better, still she was young and amenable and

adaptable, and could still be improved. Opportunity as he now chose to think, might make Aileen, whereas

"I'll tell you how it is, Lillian," he said; "I'm not sure that you are going to get what I mean exactly, but you

"You didn't seem to think that three or four years ago," interrupted his wife, bitterly.

"I married you when I was twentyone," went on Cowperwood, quite brutally, not paying any attention to her

interruption, "and I was really too young to know what I was doing. I was a mere boy. It doesn't make 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 love you 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. You have one point of view about life, and I have another. You think your point of view is the right one,

and there are thousands of people who will agree with you; but I don't think so. We have never quarreled

about these things, because I didn't think it was important to quarrel about them. I don't see under the

circumstances that I am doing you any great injustice when I ask you to let me go. I don't intend to desert you

or the childrenyou will get a good livingincome from me as long as I have the money to give it to

youbut I want my personal freedom when I come out of here, if ever I do, and I want you to let me have it.

The money that you had and a great deal more, once I am out of here, you will get back when I am on my feet

again. But not if you oppose meonly if you help me. I want, and intend to help you alwaysbut in my

He smoothed the leg of his prison trousers in a thoughtful way, and plucked at the sleeve of his coat. Just now

he looked very much like a highly intelligent workman as he sat here, rather than like the important

"That's a nice way to talk to me, and a nice way to treat me!" she exclaimed dramatically, rising and walking

the short space some two stepsthat lay between the wall and the bed. "I might have known that you

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't believe you have any sense of justice in you. I don't believe you ever had. 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 the while 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 on believing that you cared for me up to the last moment, and then you

suddenly 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

Cowperwood listened in silence. His position, in so far as this marital tangle was concerned, as he saw, was

very advantageous. He was a convict, constrained by the exigencies of his position to be out of personal

contact with his wife for a long period of time to come, which should naturally tend to school her to do

without him. When he came out, it would be very easy for her to get a divorce from a convict, particularly if

she could allege misconduct with another woman, which he would not deny. At the same time, he hoped to

keep Aileen's name out of it. Mrs. Cowperwood, if she would, could give any false name if he made no

contest. Besides, she was not a very strong person, intellectually speaking. He could bend her to his will.

There was no need of saying much more now; the ice had been broken, the situation had been put before her,

"Don't be dramatic, Lillian," he commented, indifferently. "I'm not such a loss to you if you have enough to

live on. I don't think I want to live in Philadelphia if ever I come out of here. My idea now is to go west, and I

think I want to go alone. I sha'n't get married right away again even if you do give me a divorce. I don't care

to take anybody along. It would be better for the children if you would stay here and divorce me. The public

"I'll not do it," declared Mrs. Cowperwood, emphatically. "I'll never do it, never; so there! You can say what

you choose. You owe it to me to stick by me and the children after all I've done for you, and I'll not do it. You

"Very well," replied Cowperwood, quietly, getting up. "We needn't talk about it any more now. Your time is

nearly up, anyhow." (Twenty minutes was supposed to be the regular allotment for visitors.) "Perhaps you'll

She gathered up her muff and the shawlstrap in which she had carried her gifts, and turned to go. It had been

her custom to kiss Cowperwood in a makebelieve way up to this time, but now she was too angry to make

this pretense. And yet she was sorry, too sorry for herself and, she thought, for him.

"Frank," she declared, dramatically, at the last moment, "I never saw such a man as you. I don't believe you

have any heart. You're not worthy of 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 scornfully and yet sorrowfully out.

Cowperwood stood there. At least there would be no more useless kissing between them, he congratulated

himself. It was hard in a way, but purely from an emotional point of view. He was not doing her any essential

injustice, he reasonednot an economic onewhich was the important thing. She was angry today, but

she would get over it, and in time might come to see his point of view. Who could tell? At any rate he had

made it plain to her what he intended to do and that was something as he saw it. He reminded one of nothing

so much, as he stood there, as of a 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 more to serve, yet obviously he felt, within himself,

that the whole world was still before him. He could go west if he could not reestablish himself in

Philadelphia; but he must stay here long enough to win the approval of those who had known him formerly

"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 was going

"It's sure to before night," replied Bonhag, who was always wondering over Cowperwood's tangled affairs as

The time that Cowperwood spent in the Eastern Penitentiary of Pennsylvania was exactly thirteen months

from the day of his entry to his discharge. The influences which brought about this result were partly of his

willing, and partly not. For one thing, some six months after his incarceration, Edward Malia Butler died,

expired sitting in his chair in his private office at his home. The conduct of Aileen had been a great strain on

him. From the time Cowperwood had been sentenced, and more particularly after the time he had cried on

Aileen's shoulder in prison, she had turned on her father in an almost brutal way. Her attitude, unnatural for a

child, was quite explicable as that of a tortured sweetheart. Cowperwood had told her that he thought Butler

was using his influence to withhold a pardon for him, even though one were granted to Stener, whose life in

prison he had been following with considerable interest; and this had enraged her beyond measure. She lost

no chance of being practically insulting to her father, ignoring him on every 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, with whom

she managed to exchange. She refused to sing or play any more when he was present, and persistently

ignored the large number of young political aspirants who came to the house, and whose presence in a way

had been encouraged for her benefit. Old Butler realized, of course, what it was all about. He said nothing.

Her mother and brothers did not understand it at all at first. (Mrs. Butler never understood.) But not long after

Cowperwood's incarceration Callum and Owen became aware of what the trouble was. Once, when Owen

was coming away from a reception at one of the houses where his growing financial importance made him

welcome, he heard one of two men whom he knew casually, say to the other, as they stood at the door

adjusting their coats, "You saw where this fellow Cowperwood got four years, didn't you?"

"Yes," replied the other. "A clever devil thatwasn't he? I knew that girl he was in with, tooyou know

Owen was not sure that he had heard right. He did not get the connection until 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 had much 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 could not possibly be Norah, he reflected;

she was very much infatuated with a young man whom he knew, and was going to marry him. Aileen had

been most friendly with the Cowperwoods, and had often spoken well of the financier. Could it be she? He

could not believe it. He thought once of overtaking the two acquaintances and demanding to know what they

meant, but when he came out on the step they were already some distance down the street and in the opposite

direction from that in which he wished to go. He decided to ask his father about this.

On demand, old Butler confessed at once, but insisted that his son keep silent about it.

"Aisy, aisy," said Butler. "Yer own life's worth more than his, and ye'd only be draggin' the rest of yer family

in the dirt with him. He's had somethin' to pay him for his dirty trick, and he'll have more. Just ye say nothin'

to no one. Wait. He'll be wantin' to get out in a year or two. Say nothin' to her aither. Talkin' won't help there.

She'll come to her sinses when he's been away long enough, I'm thinkin'." Owen had tried to be civil to his

sister after that, but since he was a stickler for social perfection and advancement, and so eager to get up in

the world himself, he could not understand how she could possibly have done any such thing. He resented

bitterly the stumblingblock she had put in his path. Now, among other things, his enemies would have this

to throw in his face if they wanted toand they would want to, trust life for that.

Callum reached his knowledge of the matter in quite another manner, but at about the same time. He was a

member of an athletic club which had an attractive building in the city, and a fine country club, where he

went occasionally to enjoy the swimmingpool and the Turkish bath connected with it. One of his friends

approached him there in the billiardroom one evening and said, "Say, Butler, you know I'm a good friend of

"Well, you know," said the young individual, whose name was Richard Pethick, looking at Callum with a

look of almost strained affection, "I wouldn't come to you with any story that I thought would hurt your

feelings or that you oughtn't to know about, but I do think you ought to know about this." He pulled at a high

"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 fellow Hibbs is saying things around here about

"What's that?" exclaimed Callum, straightening up in the most dynamic way and bethinking him of the

approved social procedure in all such cases. He should be very angry. He should demand and exact proper

satisfaction in some form or otherby blows very likely if his honor had been in any way impugned. "What

is it he says about my sister? What right has he to mention her name here, anyhow? He doesn't know her."

Pethick affected to be greatly concerned lest he cause trouble between Callum and Hibbs. He protested that

he did not want to, when, in reality, he was dying to tell. At last he came out with, "Why, he's circulated the

yarn that your sister had something to do with this man Cowperwood, who was tried here recently, and that

"What's that?" exclaimed Callum, losing the makebelieve of the unimportant, and taking on the serious

mien of some one who feels desperately. "He says that, does he? Where is he? I want to see if he'll say that to

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 had raised, and being a little fearful of the

result, "do be careful what you say. You mustn't have a row in here. You know it's against the rules. 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 in his own case. He, too,

But Callum by now was not so easily restrained. His face was quite pale, and he was moving toward the old

English grillroom, where Hibbs happened to be, consuming a brandyandsoda with a friend of about his

Hibbs, hearing his voice and seeing him in the door, arose and came over. He was an interesting youth of the

collegiate type, educated at Princeton. He had heard the rumor concerning Aileen from various

sourcesother members of the club, for oneand had ventured to repeat it in Pethick's presence.

"What's that you were just saying about my sister?" asked Callum, grimly, looking Hibbs in the eye.

"WhyI" hesitated Hibbs, who sensed trouble and was eager to avoid it. He was not exceptionally brave

and looked it. His hair was strawcolored, his eyes blue, and his cheeks pink. "Why nothing in particular.

Who said I was talking about her?" He looked at Pethick, whom he knew to be the talebearer, and the latter

"Well, what did you say?" interrupted Callum, grimly, transferring the conversation to himself. "That's just

"Why," stammered Hibbs, nervously, "I don't think I've said anything that anybody else hasn't said. I just

repeated that some one said that your sister had been very friendly with Mr. Cowperwood. I didn't say any

"Oh, you didn't, did you?" exclaimed Callum, withdrawing his hand from his pocket and slapping Hibbs in

the face. He repeated the blow with his left hand, fiercely. "Perhaps that'll teach you to keep my sister's name

Hibbs's arms flew up. He was not without pugilistic training, and he struck back vigorously, striking Callum

once in the chest and once in the 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 get to the scene of action. The two combatants

were quickly separated; sides were taken by the friends of each, excited explanations attempted and defied.

Callum was examining the knuckles of his left hand, which were cut from the blow he had delivered. He

maintained a gentlemanly calm. Hibbs, very much flustered and excited, insisted that he had been most

unreasonably used. The idea of attacking him here. And, anyhow, as he maintained now, Pethick had been

both eavesdropping and lying about him. Incidentally, the latter was protesting to others that he had done the

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 most strenuous efforts on the part of the friends of both parties. Callum was so

outraged on discovering that there was some foundation for the rumor at the club in a general rumor which

"I wish to heaven you hadn't struck that fellow," counseled Owen, when the incident was related to him. "It

will only make more talk. She ought to leave this place; but she won't. She's struck on that fellow yet, and we

can't tell Norah and mother. We will never hear the last of this, you and Ibelieve me."

"Well, she won't," replied Owen. "Father has tried making her, and she won't go. Just let things stand. He's in

the penitentiary now, and that's probably the end of him. The public seem to think that father put him there,

and that's something. Maybe we can persuade her to go after a while. I wish to God we had never had sight of

"Oh, I wouldn't do anything like that," replied Callum. "It's useless. It would only stir things up afresh. He's

They planned to urge Norah to marry as soon as possible. And as for their feelings toward Aileen, it was a

very chilly atmosphere which Mrs. Butler contemplated from now on, much to her confusion, grief, and

In this divided world it was that Butler eventually found himself, all at 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 of religious

despair, sitting at his desk, in his business chair, he had collapseda weary and disconsolate man of seventy.

A lesion of the left ventricle was the immediate physical cause, although brooding over Aileen was in part the

mental one. His death could not have been laid to his grief over Aileen exactly, for he was a very large

manapoplectic and with sclerotic veins and arteries. For a great many years now he had taken very little

exercise, and his digestion had been considerably impaired thereby. He was past seventy, and his time had

been reached. They found him there the next morning, his hands folded in his lap, his head on his bosom,

He was buried with honors out of St. Timothy's Church, the funeral attended by a large body of politicians

and city officials, who discussed secretly among themselves whether his grief over his daughter had anything

to do with his end. All his good deeds were remembered, of course, and Mollenhauer and Simpson sent great

floral emblems in remembrance. They were very sorry that he was gone, for they had been a cordial three.

But gone he was, and that ended their interest in the matter. He left all of his property to his wife in one of the

"I give and bequeath to my beloved wife, Norah, all my property of whatsoever kind to be disposed of as she

There was no misconstruing this. A private paper drawn secretly for her sometime before by Butler,

explained how the property should be disposed of 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 left in undisturbed possession of

everything until she should die. Aileen's originally assigned portion had never been changed. According to

her father's will, which no power under the sun could have made Mrs. Butler alter, she was left $250,000 to

be paid at Mrs. Butler's death. Neither this fact nor any of the others contained in the paper were

communicated by Mrs. Butler, who retained it to be left as her will. Aileen often wondered, but never sought

to know, what had been left her. Nothing she fanciedbut felt that she could not help this.

Butler's death led at once to a great change in the temper of the home. After the funeral the family settled

down to a seemingly peaceful continuance of the old life; but it was a matter of seeming merely. The

situation stood with Callum and Owen manifesting a certain degree of contempt for Aileen, which she,

understanding, reciprocated. She was very haughty. Owen had plans of forcing her to leave after Butler's

death, but he finally asked himself what was the use. Mrs. Butler, who did not want to leave the old home,

was very fond of Aileen, so therein lay a reason for letting her remain. Besides, any move to force her out

would have entailed an explanation to her mother, which was not deemed advisable. Owen himself was

interested in Caroline Mollenhauer, whom he hoped some day to marryas much for her prospective wealth

as for any other reason, though he was quite fond of her. In the January following Butler's death, which

occurred in August, Norah was married very quietly, and the following spring Callum embarked on a similar

In the meanwhile, with Butler's death, the control of the political situation had shifted considerably. A certain

Tom Collins, formerly one of Butler's henchmen, but latterly a power in the First, Second, Third, and Fourth

Wards, where he had numerous saloons and control of other forms of vice, appeared as a claimant for

political recognition. Mollenhauer and Simpson had to consult him, as he could make very uncertain the

disposition of some hundred and fifteen thousand votes, a large number of which were fraudulent, but which

fact did not modify their deadly character on occasion. Butler's sons disappeared as possible political factors,

and were compelled to confine themselves to the streetrailway and contracting business. The pardon of

Cowperwood and Stener, which Butler would have opposed, because by keeping Stener in he kept

Cowperwood in, became a much easier matter. The scandal of the treasury defalcation was gradually dying

down; the newspapers had ceased to refer to it in any way. Through Steger and Wingate, a large petition

signed by all important financiers and brokers had been sent to the Governor pointing out that Cowperwood's

trial and conviction had been most unfair, and asking that he be pardoned. There was no need of any such

effort, so far as Stener was concerned; whenever the time seemed ripe the politicians were quite ready to say

to the Governor that he ought to let him go. It was only because Butler had opposed Cowperwood's release

that they had hesitated. It was really not possible to let out the one and ignore the other; and this petition,

Nevertheless, nothing was done until the March following Butler's death, when both Stener and Cowperwood

had been incarcerated thirteen monthsa length of time which seemed quite sufficient to appease the anger

of the public at large. In this period Stener had undergone a considerable change physically and mentally. In

spite of the fact that a number of the minor aldermen, who had profited in various ways by his largess, called

to see him occasionally, and that he had been given, as it were, almost the liberty of the place, and that his

family had not been allowed to suffer, nevertheless he realized that his political and social days were over.

Somebody might now occasionally send him a basket of fruit and assure him that he would not be compelled

to suffer much longer; but when he did get out, he knew that he had nothing to depend on save his experience

as an insurance agent and realestate dealer. That had been precarious enough in the days when he was trying

to get some small political foothold. How would it be when he was known only as the man who had looted

the treasury of five hundred thousand dollars and been sent to the penitentiary for five years? Who would

lend him the money wherewith to get a little start, even so much as four or five thousand dollars? The people

who were calling to pay their respects now and then, and to assure him that he had been badly treated? Never.

All of them could honestly claim that they had not so much to spare. If he had good security to offeryes;

but if he had good security he would not need to go to them at all. The man who would have actually helped

him if he had only known was Frank A. Cowperwood. Stener could have confessed his mistake, as

Cowperwood saw it, and Cowperwood would have given him the money gladly, without any thought of

return. But by his poor understanding of human nature, Stener considered that Cowperwood must be an

enemy of his, and he would not have had either the courage or the business judgment to approach him.

During his incarceration Cowperwood had been slowly accumulating a little money through Wingate. He had

paid Steger considerable sums from time to time, until that worthy finally decided that it would not be fair to

"If ever you get on your feet, Frank," he said, "you can remember me if you want to, but I don't think you'll

want to. It's been nothing but lose, lose, lose for you through me. I'll undertake this matter of getting that

appeal to the Governor without any charge on my part. Anything I can do for you from now on is free gratis

"Oh, don't talk nonsense, Harper," replied Cowperwood. "I don't know of anybody that could have done

better with my case. Certainly there isn't anybody that I would have trusted as much. I don't like lawyers you

"Yeswell," said Steger, "they've got nothing on financiers, so we'll call it even." And they shook hands.

So when it was finally decided to pardon Stener, which was in the early part of March, 1873Cowperwood's

pardon was necessarily but gingerly included. A delegation, consisting of Strobik, Harmon, and Winpenny,

representing, as it was intended to appear, the unanimous wishes of the council and the city administration,

and speaking for Mollenhauer and Simpson, who had given their consent, visited the Governor at Harrisburg

and made the necessary formal representations which were intended to impress 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 quite superior to this committee, was very

solemn about the whole procedure. He would take the matter under advisement. He would look into the

history of the crimes and the records of the two men. He could make no promiseshe would see. But in ten

days, after allowing the petitions to gather considerable dust in one of his pigeonholes and doing absolutely

nothing toward investigating anything, he issued two separate pardons in writing. One, as a matter of

courtesy, he gave into the hands of Messrs. Strobik, Harmon, and Winpenny, to bear personally to Mr.

Stener, as they desired that he should. The other, on Steger's request, he gave to him. The two committees

which had called to receive them then departed; and the afternoon of that same day saw Strobik, Harmon, and

Winpenny arrive in one group, and Steger, Wingate, and Walter Leigh in another, at the prison gate, but at

This matter of the pardon of Cowperwood, the exact time of it, was kept a 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 been deniedrather

had been made much of from time to time. Wingate had kept him accurately informed as to the progress

being made, as had Steger; but when it was actually ascertained, from the Governor's private secretary, that a

certain day would see the pardon handed over to them, Steger, Wingate, and Walter Leigh had agreed

between themselves that they would say nothing, taking Cowperwood by surprise. They even went so

farthat is, Steger and Wingate didas to indicate to Cowperwood that there was some hitch to the

proceedings and that he might not now get out so soon. Cowperwood was somewhat depressed, but properly

stoical; he assured himself that he could wait, and that he would be all right sometime. He was rather

surprised therefore, one Friday afternoon, to see Wingate, Steger, and Leigh appear at his cell door,

The warden was quite pleased to think that Cowperwood should finally be going outhe admired him so

muchand decided to come along to the cell, to see how he would take his liberation. On the way Desmas

commented on the fact that he had always been a model prisoner. "He kept a little garden out there in that

yard of his," he confided to Walter Leigh. "He had violets and pansies and geraniums out there, and they did

Leigh smiled. It was like Cowperwood to be industrious and tasteful, even in prison. Such a man could not be

The four looked in through the barred door where he was working, without being observed, having come up

Cowperwood glanced over his shoulder and got up. He had been thinking, as always these days, of what he

"What is this," he asked"a political delegation?" He suspected something on the instant. All four smiled

"Nothing very much, Frank," replied Stager, gleefully, "only you're a free man. You can gather up your traps

Cowperwood surveyed his friends with a level gaze. He had not expected this so soon after what had been

told him. He was not one to be very much interested in the practical joke or the surprise, but this pleased

himthe sudden realization that he was free. Still, he had anticipated it 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 of it, to

begin with, had been much. Latterly, as he had become inured to it all, the sense of narrowness and

humiliation had worn off. Only the consciousness of incarceration and delay irked him. Barring his intense

desire for certain thingssuccess and vindication, principallyhe found 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 a more sickening

one), and to the numerous rats which he quite regularly trapped. He had learned to take an interest in

chaircaning, having become 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. Every evening he had studied the sky from his narrow yard,

which resulted curiously in the gift in later years of a great reflecting telescope to a famous university. He had

not looked upon himself as an ordinary prisoner, by any meanshad not felt himself to be sufficiently

punished if a real crime had been involved. From Bonhag he had learned the history of many criminals here

incarcerated, from murderers up and down, and many had been pointed out to him from time to time. He had

been escorted into the general yard by Bonhag, had seen the general food of the place being prepared, had

heard of Stener's modified life here, and so forth. It had finally struck him that it was not so bad, only that the

delay to an individual like himself was wasteful. He could do so much 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 waste involved 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, and to Bonhag, who was grieving greatly over

the loss of so profitable a customer, he said: "I wish you would see that some of these things are sent over to

my house, Walter. You're welcome to the chair, that clock, this mirror, those picturesall of these things in

The last little act of beneficence soothed Bonhag's lacerated soul a little. They went out into the receiving

overseer's office, where Cowperwood laid aside his prison suit and the soft shirt with a considerable sense of

relief. The clog shoes had long since been replaced by a better pair of his own. He put on the derby hat and

gray overcoat he had worn the year before, on entering, and expressed himself as ready. At the entrance of

the prison he turned and looked backone last glanceat the iron door leading into the garden.

"I do not," replied Cowperwood. "It wasn't that I was thinking of. It was just the appearance of it, that's all."

In another minute they were at the outer gate, where Cowperwood shook the warden finally by the hand.

Then entering a carriage outside the large, impressive, Gothic entrance, the gates were locked behind them

"Well, there's an end of that, Frank," observed Steger, gayly; "that will never bother you any more."

"It seems to me we ought to celebrate this occasion in some way," observed Walter Leigh. "It won't do just to

"I'd rather not, if you don't mind," replied Cowperwood, feelingly. "I'll get together with you all, later. Just

He was thinking of Aileen and his children and his mother and father and of his whole future. Life was going

to broaden out for him considerably from now on, he was sure of it. He had learned so much about taking

care of himself in those thirteen months. He was going to see Aileen, and find how she felt about things in

general, and then he was going to resume 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 not care to do business with an exconvict, he was going to act as general

outside man, and floor man on 'charge, for Wingate & Co. His practical control of that could not be publicly

proved. Now for some important development in the marketsome slump or something. He would show the

They let him down in front of his wife's little cottage, and he entered briskly in the gathering gloom.

On September 18, 1873, at twelvefifteen of a brilliant autumn day, in the city of Philadelphia, one of the

most startling financial tragedies that the world has ever seen had its commencement. The banking house of

Jay Cooke & Co., the foremost financial organization of America, doing business at Number 114 South Third

Street in Philadelphia, and with branches in New York, Washington, and London, closed its doors. Those

who know anything about the financial crises of the United States know well the significance of the panic

which followed. It is spoken of in all histories as the panic of 1873, and the widespread ruin and disaster

At this time Cowperwood, once more a brokerostensibly a broker's agentwas doing business in South

Third Street, and representing Wingate & Co. on 'change. During the six months which had elapsed since he

had emerged from the Eastern Penitentiary he had been quietly resuming financial, if not social, relations

Furthermore, Wingate & Co. were prospering, and had been for some time, a fact which redounded to his

credit with those who knew. Ostensibly he lived with his wife in a small house on North Twentyfirst Street.

In reality he occupied a bachelor apartment on North Fifteenth Street, to which Aileen occasionally repaired.

The difference between himself and his 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 inured his parents to expect the untoward and exceptional that, astonishing as this

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 weird developments. They could only hope and pray for the best.

The Butler family, on the other hand, what there was of it, had become indifferent to Aileen's conduct. She

was ignored by her brothers and Norah, who now knew all; and her mother was so taken up with religious

devotions and brooding contemplation of her loss that she was not as active in her observation of Aileen's life

as she might have been. Besides, Cowperwood and his mistress were more circumspect in their conduct than

they had ever been before. Their movements were more carefully guarded, though the result was the same.

Cowperwood was thinking of the Westof reaching some slight local standing here in Philadelphia, and

then, with perhaps one hundred thousand dollars in capital, removing to the boundless prairies of which he

had heard so muchChicago, Fargo, Duluth, Sioux City, places then heralded in Philadelphia and the East

as coming centers of great lifeand taking Aileen with him. Although the problem of marriage with her was

insoluble unless Mrs. Cowperwood should formally agree to give him upa possibility which was not

manifest at this time, neither he nor Aileen were deterred by that thought. They were going to build a future

togetheror so they thought, marriage or no marriage. The only thing which Cowperwood could see to do

was to take Aileen away with him, and to trust to time and absence to modify his wife's point of view.

This particular panic, which was destined to mark a notable change in Cowperwood's career, was one of

those peculiar things which spring naturally out of the optimism of the American people and the irrepressible

progress of the country. It was the result, to be accurate, of the prestige and ambition of Jay Cooke, whose

early training 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 to

distinction; it need only be said that by suggestions which he made and methods which he devised the Union

government, in its darkest hours, was able to raise the money wherewith to continue the struggle against the

South. After the Civil War this man, who had built up a tremendous banking business in Philadelphia, with

great branches in New York and Washington, was at a loss for some time for some significant thing to do,

some constructive work which would be worthy of his genius. The war was over; the only thing which

remained was the finances of peace, and the greatest things in American financial enterprise were those

related to the construction of transcontinental railway lines. The Union Pacific, authorized in 1860, was

already building; the Northern Pacific and 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, or to enter upon some vast project of mining, of which gold and silver

were the most important. Actually railwaybuilding was the most significant of all, and railroad stocks were

far and away the most valuable and important on every exchange in America. Here in Philadelphia, New

York Central, 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

these things; 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

raising their heads like vast mountains in connection with these enterprises. Among those who dreamed most

ardently on this score was Jay Cooke, who without the wolfish cunning of a Gould or the practical knowledge

of a Vanderbilt, was ambitious to thread the northern reaches of America with a band of steel which should

The project which fascinated him most was one that related to the development of the territory then lying

almost unexplored between the extreme western shore of Lake Superior, where Duluth now stands, and that

portion of the Pacific Ocean into which the Columbia River emptiesthe extreme northern onethird of the

United States. Here, if a railroad were built, would spring up great cities and prosperous towns. There were, it

was suspected, mines of various metals in the region of the Rockies which this railroad would traverse, and

untold wealth to be reaped from the fertile corn and wheat lands. Products brought only so far east as Duluth

could then be shipped to the Atlantic, via the Great Lakes and the Erie Canal, at a greatly reduced cost. It was

a vision of empire, not unlike the Panama Canal project of the same period, and one that bade fair apparently

to be as useful to humanity. It had aroused the interest and enthusiasm of Cooke. Because of the fact that the

government had made a grant of vast areas of land on either side of the proposed track to the corporation that

should seriously undertake it and complete it within a reasonable number of years, and because of the

opportunity it gave him of remaining a distinguished public figure, he had eventually shouldered the project.

It was open to many objections and criticisms; but the genius which had been sufficient to finance the Civil

War was considered sufficient to finance the Northern Pacific Railroad. Cooke undertook it with the idea of

being able to put the merits of the proposition before the people directnot through the agency of any great

financial corporationand of selling to the butcher, the baker, and the candlestickmaker the stock or shares

It was a brilliant chance. His genius had worked out the sale of great government loans during the Civil War

to the people direct in this fashion. Why not Northern Pacific certificates? For several years he conducted a

pyrotechnic campaign, surveying the territory in question, organizing great railwayconstruction corps,

building hundreds of miles of track under most trying conditions, and selling great blocks of his stock, on

which interest of a certain percentage was guaranteed. If it had not been that he knew little of

railroadbuilding, personally, and that the project was so vast that it could not well be encompassed by one

man, even so great a man it might have proved successful, as under subsequent management it did. However,

hard times, the war between France and Germany, which tied up European capital for the time being and

made it indifferent to American projects, envy, calumny, a certain percentage of mismanagement, all

conspired to wreck it. On September 18, 1873, at twelvefifteen noon, Jay Cooke & Co. failed for

approximately eight million dollars and the Northern Pacific for all that had been invested in itsome fifty

One can imagine what the result wasthe most important financier and the most distinguished railway

enterprise collapsing at one and the same time. "A financial thunderclap in a clear sky," said the Philadelphia

Press. "No one could have been more surprised," said the Philadelphia Inquirer, "if snow had fallen amid the

sunshine of a summer noon." The public, which by Cooke's previous tremendous success had been lulled into

believing him invincible, could not understand it. It was beyond belief. Jay Cooke fail? Impossible, or

anything connected with him. Nevertheless, he had failed; and the New York Stock Exchange, after

witnessing a number of crashes immediately afterward, closed for eight days. The Lake Shore Railroad failed

to pay a callloan of one million seven hundred and fifty thousand dollars; and the Union Trust Company,

allied to the Vanderbilt interests, closed its doors after withstanding a prolonged run. The National Trust

Company of New York had eight hundred thousand dollars of government securities in its vaults, but not a

dollar could be borrowed upon them; and it suspended. Suspicion was universal, rumor affected every one.

In Philadelphia, when the news reached the stock exchange, it came first in the form of a brief despatch

addressed to the stock board from the New York Stock Exchange"Rumor on street of failure of Jay Cooke

& Co. Answer." It was not believed, and so not replied to. Nothing was thought of it. The world of brokers

paid scarcely any attention to it. Cowperwood, who had followed the fortunes of Jay Cooke & Co. with

considerable suspicion of its president's brilliant theory of vending his wares direct to the peoplewas

perhaps the only one who had suspicions. He had once written a brilliant criticism to some inquirer, in which

he had said that no enterprise of such magnitude as the Northern 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 that the lands

through which the road runs are so unparalleled in climate, soil, timber, minerals, etc., as Mr. Cooke and his

friends would have us believe. Neither do I think that the road can at present, or for many years to come, earn

the interest which its great issues of stock call for. There is great danger and risk there." So when the notice

was posted, he looked at it, wondering what the effect would be if by any chance Jay Cooke & Co. should

He was not long in wonder. A second despatch posted on 'change read: "New York, September 18th. Jay

Cowperwood could not believe it. He was beside himself with the thought of a great opportunity. In company

with every other broker, he hurried into Third Street and up to Number 114, where the famous old banking

house was located, in order to be sure. Despite his natural dignity and reserve, he did not hesitate to run. If

this were true, a great hour had struck. There would be widespread panic and disaster. There would be a

terrific 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 to sell and when and what to buy. His great hour had come!

The banking house of Jay Cooke & Co., in spite of its tremendous significance as a banking and promoting

concern, was a most unpretentious affair, four stories and a half in height of gray stone and red brick. It had

never been deemed a handsome or comfortable banking house. Cowperwood had been there often.

Wharfrats as long as the forearm of a man crept up the culverted channels of Dock Street to run through the

apartments at will. Scores of clerks worked under gasjets, where light and air were not any too abundant,

keeping track of the firm's vast accounts. It was next door to the Girard National Bank, where Cowperwood's

friend Davison still flourished, and where the principal financial business of the street converged. As

Cowperwood ran he met his brother Edward, who was coming to the stock exchange with some word for him

"Run and get Wingate and Joe," he said. "There's something big on this afternoon. Jay Cooke has failed."

Cowperwood reached Cooke & Co. among the earliest. To his utter astonishment, the solid brownoak doors,

with which he was familiar, were shut, and a notice posted on them, which he quickly read, ran:

A magnificent gleam of triumph sprang into Cowperwood's eye. In company with many others he turned and

ran back toward the exchange, while a reporter, who had come for information knocked at the massive doors

of the banking house, and was told by a porter, who peered out of a diamondshaped aperture, that Jay Cooke

"Now," thought Cowperwood, to whom this panic spelled opportunity, not ruin, "I'll get my innings. I'll go

Before, when the panic following the Chicago fire had occurred, he had been longhad been compelled to

stay long of many things in order to protect himself. Today he had nothing to speak of perhaps a paltry

seventyfive thousand dollars which he had managed to scrape together. Thank God! he had only the

reputation of Wingate's old house to lose, if he lost, which was nothing. With it as a trading agency behind

himwith it as an excuse for his presence, his right to buy and sellhe had everything to gain. Where many

men were thinking of ruin, he was thinking of success. He would have Wingate and his two brothers under

him to execute his orders exactly. He could pick up a fourth and a fifth man if necessary. He would give them

orders to selleverythingten, fifteen, twenty, thirty points off, if necessary, in order to trap the unwary,

depress the market, frighten the fearsome who would think he was too daring; and then he would buy, buy,

buy, below these figures as much as 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

hundredmilliondollar venture. It involved the savings of hundreds of thousands of peoplesmall bankers,

tradesmen, preachers, lawyers, doctors, widows, institutions all over the land, and all resting on the faith and

security of Jay Cooke. Once, not unlike the Chicago fire map, Cowperwood had seen a grand prospectus and

map of the location of the Northern Pacific landgrant which Cooke had controlled, showing a vast stretch or

belt of territory extending from Duluth"The Zenith City of the Unsalted Seas," as Proctor Knott, speaking

in the House of Representatives, had sarcastically called itthrough the Rockies and the headwaters of the

Missouri to the Pacific Ocean. He had seen how Cooke had ostensibly managed to get control of this

government grant, containing millions upon millions of acres and extending fourteen hundred miles in length;

but it was only a vision of empire. There might be silver and gold and copper mines there. The land was

usablewould some day be usable. But what of it now? It would do to fire the imaginations of fools

withnothing more. It was inaccessible, and would remain so for years to come. No doubt thousands had

subscribed to build this road; but, too, thousands would now fail if it had failed. Now the crash had come.

The grief and the rage of the public would be intense. For days and days and weeks and months, normal

confidence and courage would be gone. This was his hour. This was his great moment. Like a wolf prowling

under glittering, bitter stars in the night, he was looking down into the humble folds of simple men and seeing

He hurried back to the exchange, the very same room in which only two years before he had fought his losing

fight, and, finding that his partner and his brother had not yet come, began to sell everything in sight.

Pandemonium had broken loose. Boys and men were fairly tearing in from all sections with orders from

panicstruck brokers to sell, sell, sell, and later with orders to buy; the various tradingposts were reeling,

swirling masses of brokers and their agents. Outside in the street in front of Jay Cooke & Co., Clark & Co.,

the Girard National Bank, and other institutions, immense crowds were beginning to form. They were

hurrying here to learn the trouble, to withdraw their deposits, to protect their interests generally. A policeman

arrested a boy for calling out the failure of Jay Cooke & Co., but nevertheless the news of the great disaster

Among these panicstruck men Cowperwood was perfectly calm, deadly cold, the same Cowperwood who

had pegged solemnly at his ten chairs each day in prison, who had baited his traps for rats, and worked in the

little garden allotted him in utter silence and loneliness. Now he was vigorous and energetic. He had been just

sufficiently about this exchange floor once more to have made his personality impressive and distinguished.

He forced his way into the center of swirling crowds of men already shouting themselves hoarse, offering

whatever was being offered in quantities which were astonishing, and at prices which allured the few who

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 was announced; Rhode Island at 108 7/8; Western Union at 92 1/2; Wabash at 70 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 26 3/4; Ohio and Mississippi at 38 3/4. Cowperwood's house had scarcely any of the stocks

on hand. They were not carrying them for any customers, and yet he sold, sold, sold, to whoever would take,

"Five thousand of New York Central at ninetynine, ninetyeight, ninetyseven, ninetysix, ninetyfive,

ninetyfour, ninetythree, ninetytwo, ninetyone, ninety, eightynine," you might have heard him call; and

when his sales were not sufficiently brisk he would turn to something elseRock 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 everything you can," he cautioned them quietly, "at

fifteen points off if you have tono lower than that nowand buy all you can below it. Ed, you see if you

cannot buy up some local streetrailways at fifteen off. Joe, you stay near me and buy when I tell you."

"E. W. Clark & Company," he announced, at onethirty, "have just closed their doors."

"Tighe & Company," he called at onefortyfive, "announce that they are compelled to suspend."

"The First National Bank of Philadelphia," he called, at two o'clock, "begs to state that it cannot at present

After each announcement, always, as in the past, when the gong had compelled silence, the crowd broke into

"Tighe & Company," thought Cowperwood, for a single second, when he heard it. "There's an end of him."

When the time for closing came, his coat torn, his collar twisted loose, his necktie ripped, his hat lost, he

"Well, Ed," he inquired, meeting his brother, "how'd you make out?" The latter was equally torn, scratched,

"Christ," he replied, tugging at his sleeves, "I never saw such a place as this. They almost tore my clothes

"We'd better go down to Green's," Frank observed, referring to the lobby of the principal hotel. "We're not

He led the way to find Wingate and his brother Joe, and together they were off, figuring up some of the larger

And, as he predicted, the excitement did not end with the coming of the night. The crowd lingered in front of

Jay Cooke & Co.'s on Third Street and in front of other institutions, waiting apparently for some development

which would be favorable to them. For the initiated the center of debate and agitation was Green's Hotel,

where on the evening of the eighteenth the lobby and corridors were crowded with bankers, brokers, and

speculators. The stock exchange had practically adjourned to that hotel en masse. What of the morrow? Who

would be the next to fail? From whence would money be forthcoming? These were the topics from each mind

and upon each tongue. From New York was coming momentarily more news of disaster. Over there banks

and trust companies were falling like trees in a hurricane. Cowperwood in his perambulations, seeing what he

could see and hearing what he could hear, reaching understandings which were against the rules of the

exchange, but which were nevertheless in accord with what every other person was doing, saw about him

men known to him as agents of Mollenhauer and Simpson, and congratulated himself that he would have

something to collect from them before the week was over. He might not own a streetrailway, but he would

have the means to. He learned from hearsay, and information which had been received from New York and

elsewhere, that things were as bad as they could be, and that there was no hope for those who expected a

speedy return of normal conditions. No thought of retiring for the night entered until the last man was gone. It

The next day was Friday, and suggested many ominous things. Would it be another Black Friday?

Cowperwood was at his office before the street was fairly awake. He figured out his program for the day to a

nicety, feeling strangely different from the way he had felt two years before when the conditions were not

dissimilar. Yesterday, in spite of the sudden onslaught, he had made one hundred and fifty thousand dollars,

and he expected to make as much, if not more, today. There was no telling what he could make, he thought,

if he could only keep his small organization in perfect trim and get his assistants to follow his orders exactly.

Ruin for others began early with the suspension of Fisk & Hatch, Jay Cooke's faithful lieutenants during the

Civil War. They had calls upon them for one million five hundred thousand dollars in the first fifteen minutes

after opening the doors, and at once closed them again, the failure being ascribed to Collis P. Huntington's

Central Pacific Railroad and the Chesapeake & Ohio. There was a longcontinued run on the Fidelity Trust

Company. News of these facts, and of failures in New York posted on 'change, strengthened the cause

Cowperwood was so much interested in; for he was selling as high as he could and buying as low as he could

on a constantly sinking scale. By twelve o'clock he figured with his assistants that he had cleared one hundred

thousand dollars; 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, in gathering as much additional information as he could and laying his plans for the future. Saturday

morning came, and he repeated his performance of the day before, following it up with adjustments on

Sunday and heavy trading on Monday. By Monday afternoon at three o'clock he figured that, all losses and

uncertainties to one side, he was once more a millionaire, and that now his future lay clear and straight before

As he sat at his desk late that afternoon in his office looking out into Third Street, where a hurrying of

brokers, messengers, and anxious depositors still maintained, he had the feeling that so far as Philadelphia

and the life here was concerned, his day and its day with him was over. He did not care anything about the

brokerage business here any more or anywhere. Failures such as this, and disasters such as the Chicago fire,

that had overtaken him two years before, had cured him of all love of the stock exchange and all feeling for

Philadelphia. He had been very unhappy here in spite of all his previous happiness; and his 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 as a Philadelphia business

man and been pardoned for an offense which he hoped to make people believe he had never committed, but

"If I get out of this safely," he said to himself, "this is the end. I am going West, and going into some other

line of business." He thought of streetrailways, land speculation, some great manufacturing project of some

"I have had my lesson," he said to himself, finally getting up and preparing 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 to Wingate about

following up the campaign on the lines in which he had started, and he himself intended to follow it up with

great energy; but all the while his mind was running with this one rich thought: "I am a millionaire. I am a

It was with this thought that he went to visit Aileen, and to plan for the future.

It was only three months later that a train, speeding through the mountains of Pennsylvania and over the

plains of Ohio and Indiana, bore to Chicago and the West the young financial aspirant who, in spite of youth

and wealth and a notable vigor of body, was a solemn, conservative speculator as to what his future might be.

The West, as he had carefully calculated before leaving, held much. He had studied the receipts of the New

York Clearing House recently and the disposition of bankbalances and the shipment of gold, and had seen

that vast quantities of the latter metal were going to Chicago. He understood finance accurately. The meaning

of gold shipments was clear. Where money was going trade wasa thriving, developing life. He wished to

Two years later, following the meteoric appearance of a young speculator in Duluth, and after Chicago had

seen the tentative opening of a grain and commission company labeled Frank A. Cowperwood & Co., which

ostensibly dealt in the great wheat crops of the West, a quiet divorce was granted Mrs. Frank A. Cowperwood

in Philadelphia, because apparently she wished it. Time had not seemingly dealt badly with her. Her financial

affairs, once so bad, were now apparently all straightened out, and she occupied in West Philadelphia, near

one of her sisters, a new and interesting home which was fitted with all the comforts of an excellent

middleclass residence. She was now quite religious once more. The two children, Frank and Lillian, were in

private schools, returning evenings to their mother. "Wash" Sims was once more the negro general factotum.

Frequent visitors on Sundays were Mr. and Mrs. Henry Worthington Cowperwood, no longer distressed

financially, but subdued and wearied, the wind completely gone from their once muchfavored sails.

Cowperwood, senior, had sufficient money wherewith to sustain himself, and that without slaving as a petty

clerk, but his social joy in life was gone. He was old, disappointed, sad. He could feel that with his quondam

honor and financial glory, he was the sameand he was not. His courage and his dreams were gone, and he

Here, too, came Anna Adelaide Cowperwood on occasion, a clerk in the city water office, who speculated

much as to the strange vicissitudes of life. She had great interest in her brother, who seemed destined by fate

to play a conspicuous part in the world; but she could not understand him. Seeing that all those who were

near to him in any way seemed to rise or fall with his prosperity, she did not understand how justice and

morals were arranged in this world. There seemed to be certain general principlesor people assumed there

werebut apparently there were exceptions. Assuredly her brother abided by no known rule, and yet he

seemed to be doing fairly well once more. What did this mean? Mrs. Cowperwood, his former wife,

condemned his actions, and yet accepted of his prosperity as her due. What were the ethics of that?

Cowperwood's every action was known to Aileen Butler, his present whereabouts and prospects. Not long

after his wife's divorce, and after many trips to and from this new world in which he was now living, these

two left Philadelphia together one afternoon in the winter. Aileen explained to her mother, who was willing to

go and live with Norah, that she had fallen in love with the former banker and wished to marry him. The old

Thus ended forever for Aileen this longcontinued relationship with this older world. Chicago was before

hera much more distinguished career, Frank told her, than ever they could have had in Philadelphia.

There is a certain fish, the scientific name of which is Mycteroperca Bonaci, its common name Black

Grouper, which is of considerable value as an afterthought in this connection, and which deserves to be better

known. It is a healthy creature, growing quite regularly to a weight of two hundred and fifty pounds, and lives

a comfortable, lengthy existence because of its very remarkable ability to adapt itself to conditions. That very

subtle thing which we call the creative power, and which we endow with the spirit of the beatitudes, is

supposed to build this mortal life in such fashion that only honesty and virtue shall prevail. Witness, then, the

significant manner in which it has fashioned the black grouper. One might go far afield and gather less

forceful indictmentsthe horrific spider spinning his trap for the unthinking fly; the lovely Drosera

(Sundew) using its crimson calyx for a smotheringpit in which to seal and devour the victim of its beauty;

the rainbowcolored jellyfish that spreads its prismed tentacles like streamers of great beauty, only to sting

and torture all that falls within their radiant folds. Man himself is busy digging the pit and fashioning the

snare, but he will not believe it. His feet are in the trap of circumstance; his eyes are on an illusion.

Mycteroperca moving in its dark world of green waters is as fine an illustration of the constructive genius of

nature, which is not beatific, as any which the mind of man may discover. Its great superiority lies in an

almost unbelievable power of simulation, which relates solely to the pigmentation of its skin. In electrical

mechanics we pride ourselves on our ability to make over one brilliant scene into another in the twinkling of

an eye, and flash before the gaze of an onlooker picture after picture, which appear and disappear as we look.

The directive control of Mycteroperca over its appearance is much more significant. You cannot look at it

long without feeling that you are witnessing something spectral and unnatural, so brilliant is its power to

deceive. From being black it can become instantly white; from being an earthcolored brown it can fade into

a delightful watercolored green. Its markings change as the clouds of the sky. One marvels at the variety and

Lying at the bottom of a bay, it can simulate the mud by which it is surrounded. Hidden in the folds of

glorious leaves, it is of the same markings. Lurking in a flaw of light, it is like the light itself shining dimly in

What would you say was the intention of the overruling, intelligent, constructive force which gives to

Mycteroperca this ability? To fit it to be truthful? To permit it to present an unvarying appearance which all

honest lifeseeking fish may know? Or would you say that subtlety, chicanery, trickery, were here at work?

An implement of illusion one might readily suspect it to be, a living lie, a creature whose business it is to

appear what it is not, to simulate that with which it has nothing in common, to get its living by great subtlety,

the power of its enemies to forefend against which is little. The indictment is fair.

Would you say, in the face of this, that a beatific, beneficent creative, overruling power never wills that

which is either tricky or deceptive? Or would you say that this material seeming in which we dwell is itself an

illusion? If not, whence then the Ten Commandments and the illusion of justice? Why were the Beatitudes

If you had been a mystic or a soothsayer or a member of that mysterious world which divines by incantations,

dreams, the mystic bowl, or the crystal sphere, you might have looked into their mysterious depths at this

time and foreseen a world of happenings which concerned these two, who were now apparently so fortunately

placed. In the fumes of the witches' pot, or the depths of the radiant crystal, might have been revealed cities,

cities, cities; a world of mansions, carriages, jewels, beauty; a vast metropolis outraged by the power of one

man; a great state seething with indignation over a force it could not control; vast halls of priceless pictures; a

palace unrivaled for its magnificence; a whole world reading with wonder, at times, of a given name. And

The three witches that hailed Macbeth upon the blasted heath might in turn have called to Cowperwood,

"Hail to you, Frank Cowperwood, master of a great railway system! Hail to you, Frank Cowperwood, builder

of a priceless mansion! Hail to you, Frank Cowperwood, patron of arts and possessor of endless riches! You

shall be famed hereafter." But like the Weird Sisters, they would have lied, for in the glory was also the ashes

of Dead Sea fruitan understanding that could neither be inflamed by desire nor satisfied by luxury; a heart

that was long since wearied by experience; a soul that was as bereft of illusion as a windless moon. And to

Aileen, as to Macduff, they might have spoken a more pathetic promise, one that concerned hope and failure.

To have and not to have! All the seeming, and yet the sorrow of not having! Brilliant society that shone in a

mirage, yet locked its doors; love that eluded as a willo'thewisp and died in the dark. "Hail to you, Frank

Cowperwood, master and no master, prince of a world of dreams whose reality was disillusion!" So might the

witches have called, the bowl have danced with figures, the fumes with vision, and it would have been true.