________________________________________________
_ But time was not a thing to be had in this emergency. With the
seventy-five thousand dollars his friends had extended to him,
and sixty thousand dollars secured from Stires, Cowperwood met
the Girard call and placed the balance, thirty-five 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 thing that would hurt him most.
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 office-boy, and at the same
time Albert Stires.
"Show in Miss Butler," he said, getting up. "Tell Mr. Stires to
wait." Aileen came briskly, vigorously in, her beautiful body
clothed as decoratively as ever. The street suit that she wore
was of a light golden-brown broadcloth, faceted with small,
dark-red buttons. Her head was decorated with a brownish-red
shake of a type she had learned was becoming to her, brimless and
with a trailing plume, and her throat was graced by a three-strand
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
something."
"Me, Aileen?"
"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 astonished for a moment I hardly know what I said or how
I looked."
"What did you say?"
"Why, I said: 'What a shame! It isn't so!' But I didn't say it
right away. My heart was going like a trip-hammer. I'm afraid
he must have been able to tell something from my face. I could
hardly get my breath."
"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."
"How do you know he knows?"
"I saw him yesterday."
"Did he talk to you about it?"
"No; I saw his face. He simply looked at me."
"Honey! I'm so sorry for him!"
"I know you are. So am I. But it can't be helped now. We should
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 anything. But, oh, dear!"
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 he saw it now converging to make a dramatic denouement.
"Never mind," he replied; "it can't be helped now. Where is my
strong, determined Aileen? I thought you were going to be so brave?
Aren't you going to be? I need to have you that way now."
"Do you?"
"Yes."
"Are you in trouble?"
"I think I am going to fail, dear."
"Oh, no!"
"Yes, honey. I'm at the end of my rope. I don't see any way out
just 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 somewhere--to-morrow, say--to-morrow afternoon. You
remember Indian Rock, out on the Wissahickon?"
"Yes."
"Could you be there at four?"
"Yes."
"Look out for who's following. If I'm not there by four-thirty,
don'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 Nine-thirty-one any more.
I'll have to rent another place somewhere else."
"Oh, honey, I'm so sorry."
"Aren't you going to be strong and brave? You see, I need you to
be."
He was almost, for the first time, a little sad in his mood.
"Yes, dear, yes," she declared, slipping her arms under his and
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 me."
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 outcast from justice.
"I love you! I love you! I love you, Frank!" she declared. He
unloosed her hands.
"Run, sweet. To-morrow at four. Don't fail. And don't talk.
And don't admit anything, whatever you do."
"I won't."
"And don't worry about me. I'll be all right."
He barely had time to straighten his tie, to assume a nonchalant
attitude by the window, when in hurried Stener's chief clerk--pale,
disturbed, obviously out of key with himself.
"Mr. Cowperwood! You know that check I gave you last night? Mr.
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 sixty-thousand-dollar check. What a petty
creature he was! How true it was, as somebody had remarked, that
you could not possibly measure the petty meannesses to which a
fool could stoop!
"You go back to Mr. Stener, Albert, and tell him that it can't be
done. The certificates of loan were purchased before his order
arrived, 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 own--outside of my salary!"
He wrung his hands, and Cowperwood shook his head sadly.
"This isn't as bad as you think, Albert. He won't do what he
says. 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 sixty-thousand-dollar check,
because I haven't it to give. I couldn't if I wanted to. It isn't
here any more. I've paid for the securities I bought with it.
The securities are not here. They're in the sinking-fund, 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 was
very sorry. And then his father was announced.
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?" said his father, lifting his sad eyes in a peculiar way.
"Well, it looks like stormy weather, doesn't it? I've decided to
call 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 went out of here."
"What did he want?" asked Henry Cowperwood.
"He wanted me to give him back a check for sixty thousand that he
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 to give
himself thirty-five thousand in cash besides.
"Well, I declare!" replied the old man. "You'd think he'd have
better sense than that. That's a perfectly legitimate transaction.
When did you say he notified you not to buy city loan?"
"Yesterday noon."
"He's out of his mind," Cowperwood, Sr., commented, laconically.
"It's Mollenhauer and Simpson and Butler, I know. They want my
street-railway 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 five-hundred-thousand-dollar
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
sinking-fund, really."
The old gentleman saw the point at once, and winced.
"They might cause you trouble, there, Frank."
"It's a technical question," replied his son. "I might have 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 I'm entitled to move my pawns
as best I can."
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 side-whiskers 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 dangerous--not straight. If Frank could get them out and
deposit them it would be so much better.
"I'd take them up if I were you and I could," he added.
"I will if I can."
"How much money have you?"
"Oh, twenty thousand, all told. If I suspend, though, I'll have
to have a little ready cash."
"I have eight or ten thousand, or will have by night, I hope."
He was thinking of some one who would give him a second mortgage
on his house.
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 have assisted him. Now...!
His father got up to go. He was as stiff with despair as though
he were suffering from cold.
"Well," he said, wearily.
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 gas-bag, and no efforts were sufficient
to inflate him. They went out, finally, defeated.
"I tell you, Frank," said Steger, "I wouldn't worry. We can tie
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 know of Aileen
Butler and her father's boundless rage. _
Read next: CHAPTER 30
Read previous: CHAPTER 28
Table of content of Financier
GO TO TOP OF SCREEN
Post your review
Your review will be placed after the table of content of this book
