The Financier

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 were caught.

«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 there. How can you ask me that, father?»

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 fi nance – he must drive him out. But as for doing anything desperate in connection with Aileen, he could not think of it.

«The scoundrel!» he said. «The scoundrel! I’ll drive him out of Philadelphy, if it takes the last dollar I have in the world».

He hurried to visit George Waterman; David Wiggin, his wife’s brother, who was now fairly well to do; Joseph Zimmerman, the wealthy dry-goods 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 street-railway 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 dollars – a paltry sum. Joseph Zimmerman would only risk twenty-fi ve thousand dollars. He could see where, all told, he might raise seventy-fi ve thousand dollars by hypothecating double the amount in shares; but this was ridiculously insuffi cient. He had fi gured again, to a dollar, and he must have at least two hundred and fi fty thousand dollars above all his present holdings, or he must close his doors. To-morrow 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.

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 certifi cates. Since their purchase in the morn­ing, he had not deposited them in the sinking-fund, where they belonged (they had been delivered to his offi ce 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 being able to take them up in time.

He drove rapidly back to his offi ce, and, fi nding 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 offi ce. There was another note, from Albert Stires, Stener’s secretary, advising him not to buy or sell any more city loan – that 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 to the city treasurer’s offi ce.

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 street-railway 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 fi ve 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, confi scation 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 ob-

His fat, white lips were trembling – wabbling nervously – and big hot tears were coursing down his previously pale but now fl ushed cheeks. He presented one of those almost unbelievable pic­tures which are yet so intensely human and so true. If only the great fi nancial and political giants would for once accurately reveal the details of their lives!