Incident like that? You know there wasn’t. He had never be-

“Why [continued Mr. Shannon, turning once more to the fore, on any occasion, asked personally for a check for any-jury], think of the colossal, wolfish nerve that would permit thing in this office, and yet on this occasion he did it. Why?

a man to say to Albert Stires that he had just purchased sixty Why should he ask for it this time? A few hours more, ac-thousand dollars’ worth additional of city loan, and that he cording to his own statement, wouldn’t have made any dif-would then and there take the check for it! Had he actually ference one way or the other, would it? He could have sent a purchased this city loan as he said he had? Who can tell?

boy for it, as usual. That was the way it had always been Could any human being wind through all the mazes of the done before. Why anything different now? I’ll tell you why!

complicated bookkeeping system which he ran, and actually

[Shannon suddenly shouted, varying his voice tremendously.]

tell? The best answer to that is that if he did purchase the I’ll tell you why! He knew that he was a ruined man! He certificates he intended that it should make no difference to knew that his last semi-legitimate avenue of escape—the fathe city, for he made no effort to put the certificates in the vor of George W. Stener—had been closed to him! He knew sinking-fund, where they belonged. His counsel says, and that honestly, by open agreement, he could not extract an-he says, that he didn’t have to until the first of the month, other single dollar from the treasury of the city of Philadel-although the law says that he must do it at once, and he phia. He knew that if he left the office without this check knew well enough that legally he was bound to do it. His and sent a boy for it, the aroused city treasurer would have counsel says, and he says, that he didn’t know he was going time to inform his clerks, and that then no further money 346

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could be obtained. That’s why! That’s why, gentlemen, if you him instantly loose into the heart of this community, so that really want to know.

some of the rank injustice that my opponent, Mr. Steger,

“Now, gentlemen of the jury, I am about done with my alleges has been done him will be a little made up to him.

arraignment of this fine, honorable, virtuous citizen whom You owe him, if that is the way you feel, a prompt acknowl-the counsel for the defense, Mr. Steger, tells you you cannot edgment of his innocence. Don’t worry about George W.

possibly convict without doing a great injustice. All I have to Stener. His guilt is established by his own confession. He say is that you look to me like sane, intelligent men—just admits he is guilty. He will be sentenced without trial later the sort of men that I meet everywhere in the ordinary walks on. But this man—he says he is an honest, honorable man.

of life, doing an honorable American business in an honor-He says he didn’t think he was going to fail. He says he used able American way. Now, gentlemen of the jury [he was very all that threatening, compelling, terrifying language, not soft-spoken now], all I have to say is that if, after all you have because he was in danger of failing, but because he didn’t heard and seen here to-day, you still think that Mr. Frank A.

want the bother of looking further for aid. What do you Cowperwood is an honest, honorable man—that he didn’t think? Do you really think that he had purchased sixty thou-steal, willfully and knowingly, sixty thousand dollars from sand dollars more of certificates for the sinking-fund, and the Philadelphia city treasury; that he had actually bought that he was entitled to the money? If so, why didn’t he put the certificates he said he had, and had intended to put them them in the sinking-fund? They’re not there now, and the in the sinking-fund, as he said he did, then don’t you dare to sixty thousand dollars is gone. Who got it? The Girard Na-do anything except turn him loose, and that speedily, so that tional Bank, where he was overdrawn to the extent of one he can go on back to-day into Third Street, and start to hundred thousand dollars! Did it get it and forty thousand straighten out his much-entangled financial affairs. It is the dollars more in other checks and certificates? Certainly. Why?

only thing for honest, conscientious men to do—to turn Do you suppose the Girard National Bank might be in any 347

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way grateful for this last little favor before he closed his doors?

was snowing. The judge stirred among his papers wearily, and Do you think that President Davison, whom you saw here turning to the jurors solemnly, began his customary explana-testifying so kindly in this case feels at all friendly, and that tion of the law, after which they filed out to the jury-room.

that may possibly—I don’t say that it does—explain his very Cowperwood turned to his father who now came over kindly interpretation of Mr. Cowperwood’s condition? It across the fast-emptying court, and said: might be. You can think as well along that line as I can.

“Well, we’ll know now in a little while.” Anyhow, gentlemen, President Davison says Mr.

“Yes,” replied Cowperwood, Sr., a little wearily. “I hope it Cowperwood is an honorable, honest man, and so does his comes out right. I saw Butler back there a little while ago.” counsel, Mr. Steger. You have heard the testimony. Now you

“Did you?” queried Cowperwood, to whom this had a pe-think it over. If you want to turn him loose—turn him loose.

culiar interest.

[He waved his hand wearily.] You’re the judges. I wouldn’t;

“Yes,” replied his father. “He’s just gone.” but then I am merely a hard-working lawyer—one person, So, Cowperwood thought, Butler was curious enough as one opinion. You may think differently—that’s your busi-to his fate to want to come here and watch him tried. Shan-ness. [He waved his hand suggestively, almost contemptu-non was his tool. Judge Payderson was his emissary, in a way.

ously.] However, I’m through, and I thank you for your cour-He, Cowperwood, might defeat him in the matter of his tesy. Gentlemen, the decision rests with you.” daughter, but it was not so easy to defeat him here unless the jury should happen to take a sympathetic attitude. They He turned away grandly, and the jury stirred—so did the might convict him, and then Butler’s Judge Payderson would idle spectators in the court. Judge Payderson sighed a sigh of have the privilege of sentencing him—giving him the maxi-relief. It was now quite dark, and the flaring gas forms in the mum sentence. That would not be so nice—five years! He court were all brightly lighted. Outside one could see that it cooled a little as he thought of it, but there was no use wor-348

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rying about what had not yet happened. Steger came for-court, where all those on trial whose liberty had been forward and told him that his bail was now ended—had been feited by the jury’s leaving the room had to wait pending its the moment the jury left the room—and that he was at this return. It was a dreary, high-ceiled, four-square place, with a moment actually in the care of the sheriff, of whom he window looking out into Chestnut Street, and a second door knew—Sheriff Adlai Jaspers. Unless he were acquitted by leading off into somewhere—one had no idea where. It was the jury, Steger added, he would have to remain in the sheriff’s dingy, with a worn wooden floor, some heavy, plain, wooden care until an application for a certificate of reasonable doubt benches lining the four sides, no pictures or ornaments of could be made and acted upon.

any kind. A single two-arm gas-pipe descended from the cen-

“It would take all of five days, Frank,” Steger said, “but ter of the ceiling. It was permeated by a peculiarly stale and Jaspers isn’t a bad sort. He’d be reasonable. Of course if we’re pungent odor, obviously redolent of all the flotsam and jet-lucky you won’t have to visit him. You will have to go with sam of life—criminal and innocent—that had stood or sat this bailiff now, though. Then if things come out right we’ll in here from time to time, waiting patiently to learn what a go home. Say, I’d like to win this case,” he said. “I’d like to deliberating fate held in store.

give them the laugh and see you do it. I consider you’ve been Cowperwood was, of course, disgusted; but he was too pretty badly treated, and I think I made that perfectly clear.

self-reliant and capable to show it. All his life he had been I can reverse this verdict on a dozen grounds if they happen immaculate, almost fastidious in his care of himself. Here he to decide against you.”

was coming, perforce, in contact with a form of life which He and Cowperwood and the latter’s father now stalked jarred upon him greatly. Steger, who was beside him, made off with the sheriff ’s subordinate—a small man by the name some comforting, explanatory, apologetic remarks.

of “Eddie” Zanders, who had approached to take charge.

“Not as nice as it might be,” he said, “but you won’t mind They entered a small room called the pen at the back of the waiting a little while. The jury won’t be long, I fancy.” 349

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“That may not help me,” he replied, walking to the win-Chapter XLIV

dow. Afterward he added: “What must be, must be.” His father winced. Suppose Frank was on the verge of a MEANWHILE the great argument had been begun in the jury-long prison term, which meant an atmosphere like this?

room, and all the points that had been meditatively specu-Heavens! For a moment, he trembled, then for the first time lated upon in the jury-box were now being openly discussed.

in years he made a silent prayer.

It is amazingly interesting to see how a jury will waver and speculate in a case like this—how curious and uncertain is the process by which it makes up its so-called mind. So-called truth is a nebulous thing at best; facts are capable of such curious inversion and interpretation, honest and otherwise. The jury had a strongly complicated problem before it, and it went over it and over it.

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 350

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or the mystery of a syllogism can become a weariness and a shot through with some vast subtlety that loves order, that is bore. The jury-room itself may and frequently does become order. The atoms of our so-called being, in spite of our so-a dull agony.

called reason—the dreams of a mood—know where to go On the other hand, no jury contemplates a disagreement and what to do. They represent an order, a wisdom, a willing with any degree of satisfaction. There is something so inher-that is not of us. They build orderly in spite of us. So the ently constructive in the human mind that to leave a prob-subconscious spirit of a jury. At the same time, one does not lem unsolved is plain misery. It haunts the average individual forget the strange hypnotic effect of one personality on an-like any other important task left unfinished. Men in a jury-other, the varying effects of varying types on each other, un-room, like those scientifically demonstrated atoms of a crys-til a solution—to use the word in its purely chemical sense—

tal which scientists and philosophers love to speculate upon, is reached. In a jury-room the thought or determination of like finally to arrange themselves into an orderly and artistic one or two or three men, if it be definite enough, is likely to whole, to present a compact, intellectual front, to be what-pervade the whole room and conquer the reason or the op-ever they have set out to be, properly and rightly—a composition of the majority. One man “standing out” for the pact, sensible jury. One sees this same instinct magnificently definite thought that is in him is apt to become either the displayed in every other phase of nature—in the drifting of triumphant leader of a pliant mass or the brutally battered sea-wood to the Sargasso Sea, in the geometric interrelation target of a flaming, concentrated intellectual fire. Men de-of air-bubbles on the surface of still water, in the marvelous spise dull opposition that is without reason. In a jury-room, unreasoned architecture of so many insects and atomic forms of all places, a man is expected to give a reason for the faith which make up the substance and the texture of this world.

that is in him—if one is demanded. It will not do to say, “I It would seem as though the physical substance of life—this cannot agree.” Jurors have been known to fight. Bitter an-apparition of form which the eye detects and calls real were tagonisms lasting for years have been generated in these close 351

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quarters. Recalcitrant jurors have been hounded commer-there. The jury filed in, and Cowperwood, with Steger at his cially in their local spheres for their unreasoned oppositions right, took his position at the gate which gave into the railed or conclusions.

space where prisoners always stand to hear the verdict and After reaching the conclusion that Cowperwood unques-listen to any commentary of the judge. He was accompanied tionably deserved some punishment, there was wrangling as by his father, who was very nervous.

to whether the verdict should be guilty on all four counts, as For the first time in his life he felt as though he were walk-charged in the indictment. Since they did not understand ing in his sleep. Was this the real Frank Cowperwood of two how to differentiate between the various charges very well, months before—so wealthy, so progressive, so sure? Was this they decided it should be on all four, and a recommendation only December 5th or 6th now (it was after midnight)? Why to mercy added. Afterward this last was eliminated, how-was it the jury had deliberated so long? What did it mean?

ever; either he was guilty or he was not. The judge could see Here they were now, standing and gazing solemnly before as well as they could all the extenuating circumstances—

them; and here now was Judge Payderson, mounting the steps perhaps better. Why tie his hands? As a rule no attention was of his rostrum, his frizzled hair standing out in a strange, paid to such recommendations, anyhow, and it only made attractive way, his familiar bailiff rapping for order. He did the jury look wabbly.

not look at Cowperwood—it would not be courteous—but So, finally, at ten minutes after twelve that night, they were at the jury, who gazed at him in return. At the words of the ready to return a verdict; and Judge Payderson, who, be-clerk, “Gentlemen of the jury, have you agreed upon a ver-cause of his interest in the case and the fact that he lived not dict?” the foreman spoke up, “We have.” so far away, had decided to wait up this long, was recalled.

“Do you find the defendant guilty or not guilty?” Steger and Cowperwood were sent for. The court-room was

“We find the defendant guilty as charged in the indict-fully lighted. The bailiff, the clerk, and the stenographer were ment.”

352

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How had they come to do this? Because he had taken a

“Is that your verdict?” he heard the clerk ask of Philip check for sixty thousand dollars which did not belong to Moultrie, juror No. 1.

him? But in reality it did. Good Lord, what was sixty thou-

“It is,” replied that worthy, solemnly.

sand dollars in the sum total of all the money that had passed

“Is that your verdict?” The clerk was pointing to Simon back and forth between him and George W. Stener? Noth-Glassberg.

ing, nothing! A mere bagatelle in its way; and yet here it had

“Yes, sir.”

risen up, this miserable, insignificant check, and become a

“Is that your verdict?” He pointed to Fletcher Norton.

mountain of opposition, a stone wall, a prison-wall barring

“Yes.”

his further progress. It was astonishing. He looked around So it went through the whole jury. All the men answered him at the court-room. How large and bare and cold it was!

firmly and clearly, though Steger thought it might barely be Still he was Frank A. Cowperwood. Why should he let such possible that one would have changed his mind. The judge queer thoughts disturb him? His fight for freedom and privi-thanked them and told them that in view of their long ser-lege and restitution was not over yet. Good heavens! It had vices this night, they were dismissed for the term. The only only begun. In five days he would be out again on bail. Steger thing remaining to be done now was for Steger to persuade would take an appeal. He would be out, and he would have Judge Payderson to grant a stay of sentence pending the hear-two long months in which to make an additional fight. He ing of a motion by the State Supreme Court for a new trial.

was not down yet. He would win his liberty. This jury was The Judge looked at Cowperwood very curiously as Steger all wrong. A higher court would say so. It would reverse their made this request in proper form, and owing to the impor-verdict, and he knew it. He turned to Steger, where the latter tance of the case and the feeling he had that the Supreme was having the clerk poll the jury, in the hope that some one Court might very readily grant a certificate of reasonable juror had been over-persuaded, made to vote against his will.

doubt in this case, he agreed. There was nothing left, there-353

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fore, but for Cowperwood to return at this late hour with upper stories with curtains, and giving the whole front a rather the deputy sheriff to the county jail, where he must now pleasant and residential air. The wing to the right, as one remain for five days at least—possibly longer.

stood looking in from the street, was the section known as The jail in question, which was known locally as the county jail proper, and was devoted to the care of prison-Moyamensing Prison, was located at Tenth and Reed Streets, ers serving short-term sentences on some judicial order. The and from an architectural and artistic point of view was not wing to the left was devoted exclusively to the care and con-actually displeasing to the eye. It consisted of a central por-trol of untried prisoners. The whole building was built of a tion—prison, residence for the sheriff or what you will—

smooth, light-colored stone, which on a snowy night like three stories high, with a battlemented cornice and a round this, with the few lamps that were used in it glowing feebly battlemented tower about one-third as high as the central in the dark, presented an eery, fantastic, almost supernatural portion itself, and two wings, each two stories high, with appearance.

battlemented turrets at either end, giving it a highly castel-It was a rough and blowy night when Cowperwood started lated and consequently, from the American point of view, a for this institution under duress. The wind was driving the very prison-like appearance. The facade of the prison, which snow before it in curious, interesting whirls. Eddie Zanders, was not more than thirty-five feet high for the central por-the sheriff ’s deputy on guard at the court of Quarter Ses-tion, nor more than twenty-five feet for the wings, was set sions, accompanied him and his father and Steger. Zanders back at least a hundred feet from the street, and was contin-was a little man, dark, with a short, stubby mustache, and a ued at either end, from the wings to the end of the street shrewd though not highly intelligent eye. He was anxious block, by a stone wall all of twenty feet high. The structure first to uphold his dignity as a deputy sheriff, which was a was not severely prison-like, for the central portion was very important position in his estimation, and next to turn pierced by rather large, unbarred apertures hung on the two an honest penny if he could. He knew little save the details 354

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of his small world, which consisted of accompanying pris-already enjoying these privileges, and it was not a part of his oners to and from the courts and the jails, and seeing that scheme of things to disturb them. The rooms that he let to they did not get away. He was not unfriendly to a particular the “right parties,” as he invariably put it, were in the central type of prisoner—the well-to-do or moderately prosperous—

portion of the jail, where were his own private living quar-for he had long since learned that it paid to be so. To-night ters. They were unbarred, and not at all cell-like. There was he offered a few sociable suggestions—viz., that it was rather no particular danger of escape, for a guard stood always at rough, that the jail was not so far but that they could walk, his private door instructed “to keep an eye” on the general and that Sheriff Jaspers would, in all likelihood, be around movements of all the inmates. A prisoner so accommodated or could be aroused. Cowperwood scarcely heard. He was was in many respects quite a free person. His meals were thinking of his mother and his wife and of Aileen.

served to him in his room, if he wished. He could read or When the jail was reached he was led to the central por-play cards, or receive guests; and if he had any favorite musi-tion, as it was here that the sheriff, Adlai Jaspers, had his cal instrument, that was not denied him. There was just one private office. Jaspers had recently been elected to office, and rule that had to be complied with. If he were a public char-was inclined to conform to all outward appearances, in so acter, and any newspaper men called, he had to be brought far as the proper conduct of his office was concerned, with-down-stairs into the private interviewing room in order that out in reality inwardly conforming. Thus it was generally they might not know that he was not confined in a cell like known among the politicians that one way he had of fatten-any other prisoner.

ing his rather lean salary was to rent private rooms and grant Nearly all of these facts had been brought to Cowperwood’s special privileges to prisoners who had the money to pay for attention beforehand by Steger; but for all that, when he the same. Other sheriffs had done it before him. In fact, crossed the threshold of the jail a peculiar sensation of strange-when Jaspers was inducted into office, several prisoners were ness and defeat came over him. He and his party were con-355

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ducted to a little office to the left of the entrance, where were not running a hotel here, as you know”—he chuckled to him-only a desk and a chair, dimly lighted by a low-burning gas-self—”but I guess I can make you comfortable. John,” he called jet. Sheriff Jaspers, rotund and ruddy, met them, greeting to a sleepy factotum, who appeared from another room, rub-them in quite a friendly way. Zanders was dismissed, and bing his eyes, “is the key to Number Six down here?” went briskly about his affairs.

“Yes, sir.”

“A bad night, isn’t it?” observed Jaspers, turning up the gas

“Let me have it.”

and preparing to go through the routine of registering his John disappeared and returned, while Steger explained to prisoner. Steger came over and held a short, private conver-Cowperwood that anything he wanted in the way of clothsation with him in his corner, over his desk which resulted ing, etc., could be brought in. Steger himself would stop presently in the sheriff ’s face lighting up.

round next morning and confer with him, as would any of

“Oh, certainly, certainly! That’s all right, Mr. Steger, to be the members of Cowperwood’s family whom he wished to sure! Why, certainly!”

see. Cowperwood immediately explained to his father his Cowperwood, eyeing the fat sheriff from his position, un-desire for as little of this as possible. Joseph or Edward might derstood what it was all about. He had regained completely come in the morning and bring a grip full of underwear, his critical attitude, his cool, intellectual poise. So this was etc.; but as for the others, let them wait until he got out or the jail, and this was the fat mediocrity of a sheriff who was had to remain permanently. He did think of writing Aileen, to take care of him. Very good. He would make the best of cautioning her to do nothing; but the sheriff now beckoned, it. He wondered whether he was to be searched—prisoners and he quietly followed. Accompanied by his father and usually were—but he soon discovered that he was not to be.

Steger, he ascended to his new room.

“That’s all right, Mr. Cowperwood,” said Jaspers, getting It was a simple, white-walled chamber fifteen by twenty up. “I guess I can make you comfortable, after a fashion. We’re feet in size, rather high-ceiled, supplied with a high-backed, 356

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yellow wooden bed, a yellow bureau, a small imitation-cherry time enough then. Kiss the kids for me.” And he smiled good-table, three very ordinary cane-seated chairs with carved naturedly.

hickory-rod backs, cherry-stained also, and a wash-stand of After his unfulfilled predictions in regard to the result of yellow-stained wood to match the bed, containing a this preliminary trial Steger was almost afraid to suggest con-washbasin, a pitcher, a soap-dish, uncovered, and a small, fidently what the State Supreme Court would or would not cheap, pink-flowered tooth and shaving brush mug, which do; but he had to say something.

did not match the other ware and which probably cost ten

“I don’t think you need worry about what the outcome of cents. The value of this room to Sheriff Jaspers was what he my appeal will be, Frank. I’ll get a certificate of reasonable could get for it in cases like this—twenty-five to thirty-five doubt, and that’s as good as a stay of two months, perhaps dollars a week. Cowperwood would pay thirty-five.

longer. I don’t suppose the bail will be more than thirty thou-Cowperwood walked briskly to the window, which gave sand dollars at the outside. You’ll be out again in five or six out on the lawn in front, now embedded in snow, and said days, whatever happens.”

he thought this was all right. Both his father and Steger were Cowperwood said that he hoped so, and suggested that willing and anxious to confer with him for hours, if he wished; they drop matters for the night. After a few fruitless parleys but there was nothing to say. He did not wish to talk.

his father and Steger finally said good night, leaving him to

“Let Ed bring in some fresh linen in the morning and a his own private reflections. He was tired, however, and throw-couple of suits of clothes, and I will be all right. George can ing off his clothes, tucked himself in his mediocre bed, and get my things together.” He was referring to a family servant was soon fast asleep.

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 357

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Chapter XLV

ously, and then it suddenly came to him that he was no longer in the free and comfortable atmosphere of his own bedroom, SAY WHAT ONE WILL about prison life in general, modify it but in a jail-cell, or rather its very comfortable substitute, a ever so much by special chambers, obsequious turnkeys, a sheriff ’s rented bedroom. He got up and looked out the win-general tendency to make one as comfortable as possible, a dow. The ground outside and Passayunk Avenue were white jail is a jail, and there is no getting away from that.

with snow. Some wagons were silently lumbering by. A few Cowperwood, in a room which was not in any way inferior Philadelphians were visible here and there, going to and fro to that of the ordinary boarding-house, was nevertheless con-on morning errands. He began to think at once what he scious of the character of that section of this real prison which must do, how he must act to carry on his buiness, to reha-was not yet his portion. He knew that there were cells there, bilitate himself; and as he did so he dressed and pulled the probably greasy and smelly and vermin-infested, and that bell-cord, which had been indicated to him, and which would they were enclosed by heavy iron bars, which would have as bring him an attendant who would build him a fire and later readily clanked on him as on those who were now therein bring him something to eat. A shabby prison attendant in a incarcerated if he had not had the price to pay for something blue uniform, conscious of Cowperwood’s superiority because better. So much for the alleged equality of man, he thought, of the room he occupied, laid wood and coal in the grate and which gave to one man, even within the grim confines of the started a fire, and later brought him his breakfast, which was machinery of justice, such personal liberty as he himself was anything but prison fare, though poor enough at that.

now enjoying, and to another, because he chanced to lack After that he was compelled to wait in patience several wit or presence or friends or wealth, denied the more com-hours, in spite of the sheriff ’s assumption of solicitous inter-fortable things which money would buy.

est, before his brother Edward was admitted with his clothes.

The morning after the trial, on waking, he stirred curiAn attendant, for a consideration, brought him the morning 358

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papers, and these, except for the financial news, he read inwas to teach her father that she could get along without him differently. Late in the afternoon Steger arrived, saying he and that he could not make her do anything she did not want had been busy having certain proceedings postponed, but to do. She still had the two hundred dollars Cowperwood had that he had arranged with the sheriff for Cowperwood to be given her and some additional cash of her own—perhaps three permitted to see such of those as had important business hundred and fifty dollars in all. This she thought would be with him.

sufficient to see her to the end of her adventure, or at least By this time, Cowperwood had written Aileen under no until she could make some other arrangement for her per-circumstances to try to see him, as he would be out by the sonal well-being. From what she knew of the feeling of her tenth, and that either that day, or shortly after, they would family for her, she felt that the agony would all be on their meet. As he knew, she wanted greatly to see him, but he had side, not hers. Perhaps when her father saw how determined reason to believe she was under surveillance by detectives she was he would decide to let her alone and make peace with employed by her father. This was not true, but it was prey-her. She was determined to try it, anyhow, and immediately ing on her fancy, and combined with some derogatory resent word to Cowperwood that she was going to the Calligans marks dropped by Owen and Callum at the dinner table and would welcome him to freedom.

recently, had proved almost too much for her fiery disposi-In a way, Cowperwood was rather gratified by Aileen’s mes-tion. But, because of Cowperwood’s letter reaching her at sage, for he felt that his present plight, bitter as it was, was the Calligans’, she made no move until she read on the morn-largely due to Butler’s opposition and he felt no compunc-ing of the tenth that Cowperwood’s plea for a certificate of tion in striking him through his daughter. His former feel-reasonable doubt had been granted, and that he would once ing as to the wisdom of not enraging Butler had proved rather more, for the time being at least, be a free man. This gave futile, he thought, and since the old man could not be pla-her courage to do what she had long wanted to do, and that cated it might be just as well to have Aileen demonstrate to 359

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him that she was not without resources of her own and could knew of the steely face the world presents to those who have live without him. She might force him to change his attitude not been practically trained and are not economically effi-toward her and possibly even to modify some of his political cient. She did not understand the bitter reaches of life at all.

machinations against him, Cowperwood. Any port in a She waited, humming for effect, until she heard her father storm—and besides, he had now really nothing to lose, and go downstairs to dinner on this tenth day of December, then instinct told him that her move was likely to prove more leaned over the upper balustrade to make sure that Owen, favorable than otherwise—so he did nothing to prevent it.

Callum, Norah, and her mother were at the table, and that She took her jewels, some underwear, a couple of dresses Katy, the housemaid, was not anywhere in sight. Then she which she thought would be serviceable, and a few other slipped into her father’s den, and, taking a note from inside things, and packed them in the most capacious portman-her dress, laid it on his desk, and went out. It was addressed teau she had. Shoes and stockings came into consideration, to “Father,” and read:

and, despite her efforts, she found that she could not get in all that she wished. Her nicest hat, which she was determined Dear Father,—I just cannot do what you want me to. I have to take, had to be carried outside. She made a separate bundle made up my mind that I love Mr. Cowperwood too much, so I of it, which was not pleasant to contemplate. Still she de-am going away. Don’t look for me with him. You won’t find me cided to take it. She rummaged in a little drawer where she where you think. I am not going to him; I will not be there. I kept her money and jewels, and found the three hundred am going to try to get along by myself for a while, until he wants and fifty dollars and put it in her purse. It wasn’t much, as me and can marry me. I’m terribly sorry; but I just can’t do Aileen could herself see, but Cowperwood would help her.

what you want. I can’t ever forgive you for the way you acted to If he did not arrange to take care of her, and her father would me. Tell mama and Norah and the boys good-by for me.

not relent, she would have to get something to do. Little she Aileen

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To insure its discovery, she picked up Butler’s heavy-rimmed bly, for this was a new experience for her, and it all seemed so spectacles which he employed always when reading, and laid undignified, so unlike anything she was accustomed to do-them on it. For a moment she felt very strange, somewhat ing. She put her bag down on a street corner, finally, to rest.

like a thief—a new sensation for her. She even felt a momen-A boy whistling in the distance attracted her attention, and tary sense of ingratitude coupled with pain. Perhaps she was as he drew near she called to him: “Boy! Oh, boy!” doing wrong. Her father had been very good to her. Her He came over, looking at her curiously.

mother would feel so very bad. Norah would be sorry, and

“Do you want to earn some money?” Callum and Owen. Still, they did not understand her any

“Yes, ma’am,” he replied politely, adjusting a frowsy cap more. She was resentful of her father’s attitude. He might over one ear.

have seen what the point was; but no, he was too old, too

“Carry this bag for me,” said Aileen, and he picked it up hidebound in religion and conventional ideas—he never and marched off.

would. He might never let her come back. Very well, she In due time she arrived at the Calligans’, and amid much would get along somehow. She would show him. She might excitement was installed in the bosom of her new home. She get a place as a school-teacher, and live with the Calligans a took her situation with much nonchalance, once she was long while, if necessary, or teach music.

properly placed, distributing her toilet articles and those of She stole downstairs and out into the vestibule, opening personal wear with quiet care. The fact that she was no longer the outer door and looking out into the street. The lamps to have the services of Kathleen, the maid who had served were already flaring in the dark, and a cool wind was blow-her and her mother and Norah jointly, was odd, though not ing. Her portmanteau was heavy, but she was quite strong.

trying. She scarcely felt that she had parted from these luxu-She walked briskly to the corner, which was some fifty feet ries permanently, and so made herself comfortable.

away, and turned south, walking rather nervously and irrita-Mamie Calligan and her mother were adoring slaveys, so 361

The Financier

she was not entirely out of the atmosphere which she craved Chapter XLVI

and to which she was accustomed.

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 dark-gray silk dress, trimmed with gray-and-white 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 pale-green dress, with red-velvet 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 mother had just given her.

“Oh, look, Callum,” she said to her brother opposite her, who was drumming idly on the table with his knife and fork.

“Aren’t they lovely? Mama gave them to me.”

“Mama does more for you than I would. You know what you’d get from me, don’t you?”

“What?”

He looked at her teasingly. For answer Norah made a face 362

Dreiser

at him. Just then Owen came in and took his place at the

“Right you are, Norah. Smart girl, you. Five or six. Ten to table. Mrs. Butler saw Norah’s grimace.

fifteen minutes each. I’d call on you if you were nicer.”

“Well, that’ll win no love from your brother, ye can de-

“You would if you got the chance,” mocked Norah. “I’d pend on that,” she commented.

have you know I wouldn’t let you. I’d feel very bad if I couldn’t

“Lord, what a day!” observed Owen, wearily, unfolding get somebody better than you.” his napkin. “I’ve had my fill of work for once.”

“As good as, you mean,” corrected Callum.

“What’s the trouble?” queried his mother, feelingly.

“Children, children!” interpolated Mrs. Butler, calmly,

“No real trouble, mother,” he replied. “Just everything—

looking about for old John, the servant. “You’ll be losin’ your ducks and drakes, that’s all.” tempers in a minute. Hush now. Here comes your father.

“Well, ye must ate a good, hearty meal now, and that’ll Where’s Aileen?”

refresh ye,” observed his mother, genially and feelingly. “Th-Butler walked heavily in and took his seat.

ompson”—she was referring to the family grocer—”brought John, the servant, appeared bearing a platter of beans among us the last of his beans. You must have some of those.” other things, and Mrs. Butler asked him to send some one to

“Sure, beans’ll fix it, whatever it is, Owen,” joked Callum.

call Aileen.

“Mother’s got the answer.”

“It’s gettin’ colder, I’m thinkin’,” said Butler, by way of

“They’re fine, I’d have ye know,” replied Mrs. Butler, quite conversation, and eyeing Aileen’s empty chair. She would unconscious of the joke.

come soon now—his heavy problem. He had been very tact-

“No doubt of it, mother,” replied Callum. “Real brain-ful these last two months—avoiding any reference to food. Let’s feed some to Norah.” Cowperwood in so far as he could help in her presence.

“You’d better eat some yourself, smarty. My, but you’re gay!

“It’s colder,” remarked Owen, “much colder. We’ll soon I suppose you’re going out to see somebody. That’s why.” see real winter now.”

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Old John began to offer the various dishes in order; but The meal was over, and Mrs. Butler strolled up to Aileen’s when all had been served Aileen had not yet come.

room to see why she had not come down to dinner. Butler

“See where Aileen is, John,” observed Mrs. Butler, inter-entered his den, wishing so much that he could take his wife estedly. “The meal will be gettin’ cold.” into his confidence concerning all that was worrying him.

Old John returned with the news that Aileen was not in On his desk, as he sat down and turned up the light, he saw her room.

the note. He recognized Aileen’s handwriting at once. What

“Sure she must be somewhere,” commented Mrs. Butler, could she mean by writing him? A sense of the untoward only slightly perplexed. “She’ll be comin’, though, never came to him, and he tore it open slowly, and, putting on his mind, if she wants to. She knows it’s meal-time.” glasses, contemplated it solemnly.

The conversation drifted from a new water-works that was So Aileen was gone. The old man stared at each word as if being planned to the new city hall, then nearing comple-it had been written in fire. She said she had not gone with tion; Cowperwood’s financial and social troubles, and the Cowperwood. It was possible, just the same, that he had run state of the stock market generally; a new gold-mine in Ari-away from Philadelphia and taken her with him. This was zona; the departure of Mrs. Mollenhauer the following Tues-the last straw. This ended it. Aileen lured away from home—

day for Europe, with appropriate comments by Norah and to where—to what? Butler could scarcely believe, though, Callum; and a Christmas ball that was going to be given for that Cowperwood had tempted her to do this. He had too charity.

much at stake; it would involve his own and Butler’s fami-

“Aileen’ll be wantin’ to go to that,” commented Mrs. Butler.

lies. The papers would be certain to get it quickly. He got

“I’m going, you bet,” put in Norah.

up, crumpling the paper in his hand, and turned about at a

“Who’s going to take you?” asked Callum.

noise. His wife was coming in. He pulled himself together

“That’s my affair, mister,” she replied, smartly.

and shoved the letter in his pocket.

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“Aileen’s not in her room,” she said, curiously. “She didn’t to wait, and some day perhaps he could bring himself to say anything to you about going out, did she?” accept her wretched proposition. Horrible thought! It would

“No,” he replied, truthfully, wondering how soon he should kill her mother, disgrace her sister. He got up, took down his have to tell his wife.

hat, put on his overcoat, and started out.

“That’s odd,” observed Mrs. Butler, doubtfully. “She must Arriving at the Cowperwood home he was shown into the have gone out after somethin’. It’s a wonder she wouldn’t tell reception-room. Cowperwood at the time was in his den somebody.”

looking over some private papers. When the name of Butler Butler gave no sign. He dared not. “She’ll be back,” he was announced he immediately went down-stairs. It was said, more in order to gain time than anything else. He was characteristic of the man that the announcement of Butler’s sorry to have to pretend. Mrs. Butler went out, and he closed presence created no stir in him whatsoever. So Butler had the door. Then he took out the letter and read it again. The come. That meant, of course, that Aileen had gone. Now for girl was crazy. She was doing an absolutely wild, inhuman, a battle, not of words, but of weights of personalities. He felt senseless thing. Where could she go, except to Cowperwood?

himself to be intellectually, socially, and in every other way She was on the verge of a public scandal, and this would the more powerful man of the two. That spiritual content of produce it. There was just one thing to do as far as he could him which we call life hardened to the texture of steel. He see. Cowperwood, if he were still in Philadelphia, would recalled that although he had told his wife and his father know. He would go to him—threaten, cajole, actually de-that the politicians, of whom Butler was one, were trying to stroy him, if necessary. Aileen must come back. She need make a scapegoat of him, Butler, nevertheless, was not con-not go to Europe, perhaps, but she must come back and sidered to be wholly alienated as a friend, and civility must behave herself at least until Cowperwood could legitimately prevail. He would like very much to placate him if he could, marry her. That was all he could expect now. She would have to talk out the hard facts of life in a quiet and friendly way.

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But this matter of Aileen had to be adjusted now once and bandy words with ye here. Ye’ll tell me where my daughter for all. And with that thought in his mind he walked quickly is, and ye’ll leave her alone from now, or I’ll—” The old into Butler’s presence.

man’s fists closed like a vise, and his chest heaved with sup-The old man, when he learned that Cowperwood was in pressed rage. “Ye’ll not be drivin’ me too far, man, if ye’re and would see him, determined to make his contact with wise,” he added, after a time, recovering his equanimity in the financier as short and effective as possible. He moved the part. “I want no truck with ye. I want my daughter.” least bit when he heard Cowperwood’s step, as light and

“Listen, Mr. Butler,” said Cowperwood, quite calmly, rel-springy as ever.