________________________________________________
_ The contrasting pictures presented by Cowperwood and Stener at this
time are well worth a moment's consideration. Stener's face was
grayish-white, 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 mind-strength 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 mix-up, might not the future hold social restoration and
position for him? It might. Morality and immorality? He never
considered them. But strength and weakness--oh, yes! If you had
strength you could protect yourself always and be something. If
you were weak--pass 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. Something--he could not say what--it was
the only metaphysics he bothered about--was 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 it--earned it. Accident, perhaps,
but somehow the thought that he would always be protected--these
intuitions, the "hunches" to act which he frequently had--could
not be so easily explained. Life was a dark, insoluble mystery,
but whatever it was, strength and weakness were its two constituents.
Strength would win--weakness lose. He must rely on swiftness of
thought, accuracy, his judgment, and on nothing else. He was really
a brilliant picture of courage and energy--moving about briskly in
a jaunty, dapper way, his mustaches curled, his clothes pressed,
his nails manicured, his face clean-shaven and tinted with health.
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 sinking-fund. 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 do--he was no
"squealer," and indicated as much to Mr. Wheat, who only smiled
wryly.
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's--a young
Irishman who had done considerable legal work for him--one Dennis
Shannon. The other two party leaders had already promised Butler
that. Shannon was a smart, athletic, good-looking fellow, all of
five feet ten inches in height, sandy-haired, pink-cheeked, blue-eyed,
considerable of an orator and a fine legal fighter. He was very
proud to be in the old man's favor--to be promised a place on the
ticket by him--and would, he said, if elected, do his bidding to
the best of his knowledge and ability.
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 doubt
in Cowperwood's case. There was none in Stener's.
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 unavoidable at this time.
"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 much-mooted fall election, which resulted, thanks to the
clever political manipulations of Mollenhauer and Simpson (ballot-box
stuffing and personal violence at the polls not barred), 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 considered to be the
chief malefactors.
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
much--as much as his natural caution would permit--she 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 politicians--her father among them as she gathered after
his conversation with her--were 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, her Frank was telling
her, and that was enough.
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 eclipse.
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 in
the blistering noonday sun of circumstance.
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 street-railways 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 disgrace--these 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 side-whiskers 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., was too old. He ought to retire.
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, well-built, magnetic man of
fifty, breathed an inward sigh of relief at the sight of it.
"I know it's hard, Mr. Cowperwood," he said, sympathetically.
"We--and I can speak for the other members of the board--we 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 thirty-five 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 settled--if 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 and to think of what else to
do from now on. _
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