Текст книги "Финансист / The Financier"

Chapter XXVI

Things had changed greatly since last Cowperwood had talked with Butler. Alas, now on Monday morning at nine o'clock, an additional complication had been added to the already tangled situation which had changed Butler's attitude completely. As he was leaving his home, the postman had handed Butler four letters. One letter was anonymous, from someone who was apparently not very literate—a woman most likely—written in a scrawling hand:

“Dear sir,

This is to warn you that your daughter Aileen is running around with a man that she shouldn t, Frank A. Cowperwood, the banker. If you don t believe it, watch the house at 931 North Tenth Street. Then you can see for yourself.”

There was neither signature nor mark of any kind to indicate from whence it might have come. But Butler's intuitions were keen. The letter was written by a girl, a member of St. Timothy's Church, who lived in the vicinity of the house indicated, and who was jealous of Aileen's position.

The Irish are a philosophic as well as a practical race. On first reading these lines Butler's jaw instinctively closed, and his gray eyes narrowed. Could this be true?

Edward Butler went up the stairs to his own office slowly. He went in and sat down, and thought and thought. Ten o'clock came, and eleven. It was twelve, and then one, and he was still sitting there thinking, when the presence of Cowperwood was announced.

Cowperwood, had hurried up to the office of the Edward Butler Contracting Company.

“I came to see you about that loan of yours, Mr. Butler,” he observed, briskly.

Butler, who was alone in the room, merely stared at him from under his shaggy brows.

“I'll have to have that money,” he said, brusquely, darkly.

“Very well,” replied Cowperwood. “I'm sorry. I thought I might get an extension; but that's all right. I can get the money, though. I'll send it right over.”

He turned and walked quickly to the door.

Butler got up.

“The dirty dog!” he suddenly exclaimed to himself, in a low voice. “I'll send him to jail, I will. I'll break him, I will!”

He clinched his big fists and his teeth.

“I'll fix him. I'll show him. The dog! The damned scoundrel!”

Never in his life before had he been so bitter, so cruel, so relentless in his mood.

He rode out to his home, where he found his elder daughter just getting ready to go out.

“Where are you going, daughter?” he asked, with a rather unsuccessful attempt to conceal his fear, distress, and smoldering anger.

“To the library,” she said easily. Her father looked tired and gloomy.

“Come up to my office,” he said. “I want to see you before you go.”

Butler strolled into his stuffy room and sat down in the big leather chair. Before him, against the light, was the visitor's chair. When Aileen entered he motioned her to it, which, and said, “Sit down there.”

She took the seat. He handed the letter over, and said, “Read that.”

Aileen took it.

“Why, what a lie!” she said, lifting her eyes to her father's. “To think that any one should write such a thing of me! How dare they!”

Old Butler looked at her narrowly.

“How do you know, daughter, that I haven't had the house watched?” he said, quizzically.

“It's a lie!” said Aileen. “I wasn't at any house at that number, and no one saw me going in there. How can you ask me that, father?”

“You oughtn't to lie, Aileen. It's against your faith. Why would anybody write a letter like that if it wasn't so?”

“But it's not so,” insisted Aileen, “and I don't think you have any right to say that to me. I haven't been there, and I'm not running around with Mr. Cowperwood.”

Butler shook his head solemnly.

“It's a great blow to me, daughter. I haven't had the house watched. I only got this letter this morning. And what's written here may not be so. I hope it isn't. But listen. You and your sister want to get married sometime. How could you expect to do anything if you are doing what this letter says?”

“Oh, father,” returned Aileen, “how can you talk like this when you know I'm not guilty? When I tell you so?”

“Well, we'll not talk any more about it now, daughter,” he said. “But, this man has a family—a wife and children. You oughtn't do anything to hurt them. They'll have trouble enough, if I'm not mistaken. You're a beautiful girl. You're young. You have money. There's dozens of young men who would be proud to make you their wife. Don't destroy your immortal soul. Don't break my heart entirely.”

Aileen wanted to say something, to protest much more; but she knew that it was useless. Her father knew that she was lying.

“Well, there's no use of my saying anything more, father,” she said, getting up. “You won't believe me, anyhow. I tell you, though, that I'm innocent.”

“The scoundrel!” he said. “The scoundrel! I'll drive him out of Philadelphia!”

Chapter XXVII

While Cowperwood had no absolute knowledge as to why Butler had been so enraged, he felt that Aileen was the cause. He himself was a father. The attitude toward his own daughter made him see clearly how Butler might feel toward Aileen. It made him smile, in a grim way, to see how fate was raining difficulties on him. The Chicago fire, Stener's early absence, Butler, Mollenhauer, and Simpson's indifference to Stener's fate and his. And now this probable revelation in connection with Aileen. He could not be sure as yet, but his intuitive instincts told him that it must be something like this.

His mind concentrated wholly on how to save himself financially. If he didn't he would be a bankrupt. He drove rapidly back to his office, and, finding 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 office. There was another note, from Stener's secretary, advising him not to buy or sell any more city loan. Cowperwood immediately sensed the source of this warning. Stener had been in conference with Butler or Mollenhauer, and had been warned and frightened.

“Go to Mollenhauer,” Strobik had advised Stener, “and tell him the whole story. He put you here. Ask him what to do. You can't help yourself. Don't loan Cowperwood another damned dollar. Ask Mollenhauer to get Cowperwood to put the money back. He may be able to influence him.”

“Well, Mr. Stener?” queried Mr. Mollenhauer.

“I came about this matter of my loans to Mr. Cowperwood.”

“Well, what about them?”

“Well, he owes me, or the city treasury rather, five hundred thousand dollars, and I understand that he is going to fail and that he can't pay it back. He tells me he must have more money or he will fail and he wants to borrow three hundred thousand dollars more. He says he must have it.”

“So!” said Mr. Mollenhauer, impressively. “You would not think of doing that, of course. You're too badly involved as it is. Don't advance him another dollar. If you do, and this case comes to trial, no court would have any mercy on you!” He stared at Stener warningly.

“Oh, Mr. Mollenhauer,” Stener choked, beginning to cry, “I didn't mean to do anything wrong. You sent me to Cowperwood. I only did what I thought the others had been doing. I have a wife and four children, Mr. Mollenhauer. My youngest boy is only seven years old. Think of them, Mr. Mollenhauer! Think of what my arrest will mean to them! I don't want to go to jail. I didn't think I was doing anything wrong—honestly I didn't. You can have all my stocks and houses and lots—anything—if you'll only get me out of this. You won't let them send me to jail, will you?”

“Get up, Stener,” Mollenhauer said, calmly. “You mustn't give way to your feelings like this. You must not cry. Perhaps your situation isn't so bad. I'll do what I can, Stener. I won't promise anything. I can't tell you what the result will be. There are many peculiar political forces in this city. I may not be able to save you, but I am perfectly willing to try. You must put yourself absolutely under my direction. You must not say or do anything without first consulting with me. I will send my secretary to you. He will tell you what to do. You must not come to me unless I send for you. Do you understand that thoroughly?”

“Yes, Mr. Mollenhauer.”

“Well, now, dry your eyes. I don't want you to go out of this office crying. Go back to your office, and I will send Sengstack[63]63
  Sengstack – Сэнгстэк


[Закрыть] to see you. He will tell you what to do. Follow him exactly.”

Needless to say, Mollenhauer was greatly gratified by this turn of affairs. The properties Cowperwood controlled were already in Mollenhauer's possession.

Chapter XXVIII

Cowperwood arrived at Stener's office late this Monday afternoon. Stener was quite alone, worried and distraught. He was anxious to see Cowperwood, and at the same time afraid.

“George,” began Cowperwood, briskly, on seeing him, “I haven't much time to spare now, but I've come, finally, to tell you that you'll have to let me have three hundred thousand more if you don't want me to fail. Things are looking very bad today. They've caught me in a corner on my loans; but this storm isn't going to last. Chicago is burning, but it will be built up again. Now, I want you to be reasonable and help me. Don't get frightened.”

Stener stirred uneasily.

“Don't let these politicians scare you to death. We'll be better off than ever. Did you see Mollenhauer?”

“Yes.”

“Well, what did he say?”

“He said just what I thought he'd say. He won't let me do this. I can't, Frank, I tell you!” exclaimed Stener, jumping up. He was nervous. “I can't! They've got me in a corner! They all know what we've been doing. Oh, say, Frank, you've got to let me have that five hundred thousand back and get me out of this. If you don't, and you should fail, they'll send me to the penitentiary. I've got a wife and four children, Frank. I never thought when I began that I would ever get in as bad as all this. I can't go on, Frank. I can't! You can have all my stock. Only give me back that five hundred thousand.”

His voice rose nervously as he talked, and he wiped his wet forehead with his hand and stared at Cowperwood pleadingly, foolishly.

Cowperwood stared at him in return for a few moments with a cold eye. He knew a great deal about human nature; but this shift of Stener's was quite too much.

“Whom else have you been talking to, George, since I saw you? Whom have you seen? What did Sengstack say?”

“He says just what Mollenhauer does, that I mustn't loan any more money under any circumstances, and he says I ought to get that five hundred thousand back as quickly as possible.”

“And you think Mollenhauer wants to help you, do you?” inquired Cowperwood.

“I think he does, yes. I don't know who else will, Frank, if he doesn't. He's one of the big political forces in this town.”

“Listen to me,” began Cowperwood. “What did he say you should do about your holdings?”

“Sell them through Tighe & Company and put the money back in the treasury.”

“Sell them to whom?” asked Cowperwood, thinking of Stener's last words.

“To any one on 'change who'll take them, I suppose. I don't know.”

“I thought so,” said Cowperwood, comprehendingly. “They're robbing you, George. They're simply trying to get your stocks away from you. Mollenhauer knows I can't do what you want—give you back the five hundred thousand dollars. He wants you to throw your stocks on the market so that he can pick them up. They want to get together on this local street-railway situation, and I know it, I feel it. Do you think he'll turn a hand to keep you out of the penitentiary? He will not. And if you think so, you're a bigger fool than I take you to be, George. Don't go crazy. Don't lose your head. Be sensible. Look the situation in the face. Let me explain it to you. If you don't help me now—if you don't let me have three hundred thousand dollars by tomorrow noon, at the very latest, I'm ruined, and so are you. Those stocks of ours are as good today as they ever were. The railways are there behind them. What better evidence do you want than You're frightened, George. These damned political schemers have scared you. Don't throw your chances away, George. Don't quit now. You'll be worth millions in a few years, and you won't have to turn a hand. All you will have to do will be to keep what you have. What difference does it make—five hundred thousand or eight hundred thousand? For Heaven's sake, George, be sensible! Be reasonable!”

He paused.

“I can't, Frank,” Stener wailed. “I tell you I can't. They'll punish me. You don't know these people.”

What could you do with a man like that? You couldn't! And with a gesture of infinite disgust, Cowperwood started to walk out. At the door he turned.

“George,” he said, “I'm sorry. I'm sorry for you, not for myself. I'll be rich. But, George, you're making the one great mistake of your life. You'll be poor; you'll be a convict, and you'll have only yourself to blame. You sit there, and you allow these schemers, highbinders to frighten you and prevent you from doing the one thing that will save your life. Three hundred thousand dollars that in three or four weeks from now I can pay back to you four and five times over! I can't understand it, George. You're out of your mind.”

He waited a few moments to see if this would have any effect; then, noting that Stener still remained a wilted, helpless mass of nothing, he shook his head gloomily and walked out.

Chapter XXIX

Cowperwood made a final appeal to the bankers and financiers, but they refused to help him. He evolved in his own mind various plans of delay, but alas! He was going to fail. With these thoughts Cowperwood sat waiting. As he did so Aileen Butler was announced by his office-boy.

Aileen came briskly, vigorously in, her beautiful body clothed as decoratively as ever.

“Honey,” she exclaimed, on seeing him, “what is the trouble? I wanted so much to ask you the other night. You're not going to fail, are you? I heard father and Owen talking about you last night.”

“What did they say?” he inquired, putting his arm around her and looking quietly into her nervous eyes.

“Oh, you know, I think papa is very angry with you. He suspects. Someone sent him an anonymous letter. I denied everything. Oh, honey, I've been so worried. You know, I didn't sleep at all. I was so worried about you. He showed me the letter. I was so astonished for a moment I hardly know what I said or how I looked.”

“What did you say?”

“Why, I said: 'What a shame! It isn't so! But I'm afraid he must have been able to tell something from my face.”

“He's a shrewd man, your father,” he commented. “He knows something about life. Now you see how difficult these situations are. He knows. You can't deceive him.”

“How do you know he knows?”

“I saw him yesterday.”

“Did he talk to you about it?”

“No; I saw his face. He simply looked at me.”

“Honey! I'm so sorry for him!”

“I know you are. So am I.”

She put her hands tightly together on his bosom, and he looked into her eyes. Her eyelids, were trembling, and her lips. She was sorry for her father, herself, Cowperwood.

“Never mind,” he replied; “it can't be helped now. Where is my strong Aileen? I thought you were going to be so brave. Aren't you going to be?”

“Are you in trouble?”

“I think I am going to fail, dear.”

“Oh, no!”

“Yes, honey. I've sent for my father and my lawyer. You mustn't stay here, sweet. Your father may come in here at any time. We must meet somewhere—tomorrow, say—tomorrow afternoon. You remember Indian Rock, out on the Wissahickon[64]64
  Indian Rock, out on the Wissahickon – Индейская скала на берегу Уиссахикона


[Закрыть]?”

“Yes.”

“Could you be there at four?”

“Yes.”

“If I'm not there by four-thirty, don't wait. You know why. It will be because I think some one is watching. And now you must run, sweet. We can't use our house any more. I'll have to rent another place somewhere else.”

“Oh, honey, I'm so sorry.”

“Aren't you going to be strong and brave? You see, I need you to be.”

He was almost, for the first time, a little sad in his mood.

“Yes, dear, yes,” she declared. “Oh, yes! You can depend on me. Oh, Frank, I love you so! I'm so sorry. Oh, I do hope you don't fail! But it doesn't make any difference, dear, between you and me, whatever happens, does it? We will love each other just the same. I'll do anything for you, honey! I'll do anything you say. You can trust me.”

Her love was unjust, illegal, outlawed; but it was love, just the same.

“I love you! I love you! I love you, Frank!” she declared.

“Run, sweet. Tomorrow at four. And don't worry about me. I'll be all right.”

Chapter XXX

The same day that brought Edward Butler the anonymous communication in regard to his daughter, brought almost a duplicate of it to Mrs. Frank Algernon Cowperwood, only in this case the name of Aileen Butler had curiously been omitted.

“Perhaps you don't know that your husband is running with another woman. If you don't believe it, watch the house at 931 North Tenth Street.”

Mrs. Cowperwood's face paled slightly as she read it; and then her hand trembled—not much. Her soul did not love passionately, hence she could not suffer passionately. She was hurt, disgusted, enraged for the moment, and frightened; but she was not broken in spirit entirely. Frank Cowperwood had taught her a number of things. He was selfish, self-centered, and not as much charmed by her as he had been. Frank did not love her as he had; she had felt it.

Would he cast her off? Where would she go? What would she do? She was not helpless, of course, for she had money of her own. But who was this other woman? Was she young and beautiful? Was it—? Suddenly she stopped. Her mouth opened—Aileen Butler?

She had observed often, how friendly Aileen had been to him and he to her. He liked her; he never lost a chance to defend her. He liked young people. But, of course, he was married, and he had two children and herself. Where would she go if she left him? What would people think? What about the children?

Mrs. Cowperwood really knew nothing about life. She was charming if you loved placidity. If you did not, she was not. She was not engaging, brilliant, or forceful. Frank Cowperwood might well have asked himself in the beginning why he married her. He did not do so now because he did not believe it was wise to question the past as to one's failures and errors. It was, according to him, most unwise to regret. He kept his face and thoughts to the future.

But Mrs. Cowperwood was truly distressed, and she went about the house thinking, feeling wretchedly. She decided to wait.

For it had suddenly appeared from news from Lillian's father and Frank and Anna and her mother-in-law that Frank was about to fail. Frank was too busy to explain. The Chicago fire was to blame. Frank was caught in a trap, and was fighting for his life.

She was astonished, frightened, dumbfounded, confused. There were the children. They must not be injured. Frank must be reclaimed, if possible. But what a blow!

Chapter XXXI

To see Mollenhauer or Simpson, or both, for Cowperwood was important; but before doing so he decided to talk to Harper Steger[65]65
  Harper Steger – Харпер Стеджер


[Закрыть], the lawyer. Harper Steger was a tall, thin, graceful, rather elegant man, of gentle voice and perfect manners.

“Let them proceed against you,” Steger said on this occasion. “The whole thing, it seems to me, would depend on which of you two—yourself or Stener—the jury would be inclined to believe.”

Cowperwood knew all about that.

“It all depends on what the politicians decide to do. The situation is too complicated.”

They were in his private office at his house.

“What will be will be,” he added.

Steger was rubbing his chin with his hand.

“That is a serious question, isn't it? The law says one to five years at the outside[66]66
  at the outside – лишения свободы


[Закрыть]. Embezzlement.”

“I know all about that,” interrupted Cowperwood, irritably. “My case isn't any different from the others, and you know it. Embezzlement is embezzlement if the politicians want to have it so.”

Steger got up and strolled about leisurely. He observed,

“It is a bit complicated, isn't it?”

“Well, I should say so,” returned Frank, and he added to himself: “Jail! Five days in prison!” He must avoid this! Jail! The penitentiary! His commercial reputation would never survive that.