by Theodore Dreiser 16 страница

solemn eyes.

It was not time for love, and he felt it.

"No," he said, almost coldly, "I think not."

"Frank, don't let this thing make you forget me for long, please. You

won't, will you? I love you so."

"No, no, I won't!" he replied earnestly, quickly and yet absently.

"I can't! Don't you know I won't?" He had started to kiss her, but a

noise disturbed him. "Sh!"

He walked to the door, and she followed him with eager, sympathetic

eyes.

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 pale--strained.

Chapter XXIV

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 corporations--a 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 good-will generally. The city's return to him, via Mollenhauer

and Simpson, was in the shape of contracts--fat ones--street-paving,

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 to-morrow. We have a lot of our

street-railway 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 money that belongs

to Stener, he tells me."

"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 father. "How much

money of his has Cowperwood?" he asked.

Butler meditated. "Quite a bit, I'm afraid," he finally said. "As a

matter of fact, it's a great deal--about five hundred thousand dollars.

If that should become known, it would be makin' a good deal of noise,

I'm thinkin'."

"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 truth--and I

never knew him to lie--he can get out of this if street-railway 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 by comin' on

and buyin' and holdin' up the price."

Owen was running swiftly in his mind over Cowperwood's affairs--as much

as he knew of them. He felt keenly that the banker ought to be shaken

out. This dilemma was his fault, not Stener's--he felt. It was strange

to him that his father did not see it and resent it.

"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 moves

him around where he pleases."

Owen's eyes gleamed avariciously, opposingly. Cowperwood ought to be

punished, sold out, driven out of the street-railway business in which

Owen was anxious to rise.

"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 take considerable money to meet my loans

in the mornin'."

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

that--resented 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 hundred-thousand-dollar loan with him

until the last hour, as Cowperwood had requested, if the others were

friendly.

"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 street-railway holdings are more important than this election, and

if you can see your way clear to getting the street-railway lines in

your hands you won't need to worry about any elections. My advice to

you is to call that one-hundred-thousand-dollar 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."

"Aisy! Aisy!" was all the old contractor would say. He was thinking

hard.

Chapter XXV

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 days--a 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 pale-blue 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 reception-hall, a large parlor or drawing-room,

a dining-room at least thirty feet square paneled in oak; and on the

second floor were a music-room 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 game. When it was not, the reach of his cunning was not easily

measured.

When Edward Butler and his son arrived on this Sunday evening, this

distinguished representative of one-third 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 pleased.

"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 drank. His father temperately did both.

"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 enough. You don't know anything that

we ought to worry about, do you?"

"Well, yes," said Butler, draining off the remainder of a brandy and

soda that had been prepared for him. "One thing. You haven't seen an

avenin' paper, have you?"

"No, I haven't," said Mollenhauer, straightening up. "Is there one out?

What's the trouble anyhow?"

"Nothing--except Chicago's burning, and it looks as though we'd have a

little money-storm here in the morning."

"You don't say! I didn't hear that. There's a paper out, is there? Well,

well--is it much of a fire?"

"The city is burning down, so they say," put in Owen, who was watching

the face of the distinguished politician with considerable interest.

"Well, that is news. I must send out and get a paper. John!" he called.

His man-servant appeared. "See if you can get me a paper somewhere." The

servant disappeared. "What makes you think that would have anything to

do with us?" observed Mollenhauer, returning to Butler.

"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 looked into

Mollenhauer's, who returned his gaze.

"Where did you get that?" queried Mr. Mollenhauer icily. "He hasn't

deliberately taken much money, has he? How much has he taken--do you

know?"

"Quite a bit," replied Butler, quietly. "Nearly five hundred thousand,

so I understand. Only I wouldn't say that it has been taken as yet. It's

in danger of being lost."

"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 deal--about 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

another--mostly in buyin' up street-railways." (At the mention of

street-railways 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

now--that 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 game--just anxious

to save himself and do the square thing by me--by 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 street-railway shares! He and Stener must have quite some private

holdings then. That did interest Mollenhauer greatly.

"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 been through that before. You don't know what his liabilities are?"

"I do not," said Butler.

"He didn't ask for money, you say?"

"He wants me to l'ave a hundred thousand he has of mine until he sees

whether he can get through or not."

"Stener is really out of town, I suppose?" Mollenhauer was innately

suspicious.

"So Cowperwood says. We can send and find out."

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 one--preferably to

him--Mollenhauer. 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 street-car 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 this--in 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 street-railway

holdings for a song--his 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 defalcation--if Cowperwood's

failure made Stener's loan into one--could 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 street-railway stock in combination with

everybody else's, for that matter--Simpson'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 saving the

party at the polls.

"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."

"We have not," replied Butler, solemnly.

Owen thought he could see Cowperwood's approaching doom quite plainly.

At that moment the door-bell rang. A maid, in the absence of the

footman, brought in the name of Senator Simpson.

"Just the man," said Mollenhauer. "Show him up. You can see what he

thinks."

"Perhaps I had better leave you alone now," suggested Owen to his

father. "Perhaps I can find Miss Caroline, and she will sing for me.

I'll wait for you, father," he added.

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

small--five 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 either--deep,

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 men--the 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 been--feeble

and fish-like in his handshake, wan and slightly lackadaisical in his

smile, but speaking always with eyes that answered for every defect.

"Av'nin', Mark, I'm glad to see you," was Butler's greeting.

"How are you, Edward?" came the quiet reply.

"Well, Senator, you're not looking any the worse for wear. Can I pour

you something?"

"Nothing to-night, Henry," replied Simpson. "I haven't long to stay. I

just stopped by on my way home. My wife's over here at the Cavanaghs',

and I have to stop by to fetch her."

"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 you. I suppose you've heard that Chicago is burning?"

"Yes; Cavanagh was just telling me. It looks to be quite serious. I

think the market will drop heavily in the morning."

"I wouldn't be surprised myself," put in Mollenhauer, laconically.

"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 the lake city was growing hourly

worse since its inception the day before.

"Well, that is certainly dreadful," said Simpson. "I'm very sorry for

Chicago. I have many friends there. I shall hope to hear that it is not

so bad as it seems."

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.?"

Дата добавления: 2015-11-14