Текст книги "Финансист / The Financier"

Chapter XXXII

The situation was growing more serious. Cowperwood, from what he could see and hear, was becoming more and more certain that the politicians would try to make a scapegoat of him. He would have to do something about this—see Mollenhauer or Simpson, or both. He could not promise them money for the present—only notes—but they might take them.

The moment Mollenhauer saw Cowperwood he realized, however, that he had a powerful personality to deal with. Cowperwood gave no evidence of fright. He merely stated, in his bland way, that he was borrowing money from the city treasury at a low rate of interest[67]67
  at a low rate of interest – под низкие проценты


[Закрыть], and that he could not possibly return it at present.

“I have heard rumors, Mr. Mollenhauer,” he said, “that some charge is to be brought against me as a partner with Mr. Stener in this matter; but I am hoping that the city will not do that, and I thought I might enlist your influence to prevent it. I need a little time to arrange matters. The newspapers are likely to start talking at any time, unless they are stopped by those who can control them.”

He smiled his most winsome and engaging smile. And Mollenhauer seeing him for the first time, was impressed.

“The trouble with this situation, Mr. Cowperwood,” he said, affably, “is that it has gone so far that it is practically out of my hands.”

Mollenhauer was obviously not frank; and Cowperwood saw it. It irritated him greatly, but he was tactful enough to be quite suave and respectful.

“I don't see exactly what I can do for you,” Mollenhauer continued, blandly. “What did you think I could do? The Republican party is in a very bad position, so far as this election is concerned. And you have helped to put it there, Mr. Cowperwood. I sympathize with you greatly, Mr. Cowperwood, but what I suggest is that you first see Mr. Butler and Mr. Simpson.”

At this point, Mollenhauer rather expected Cowperwood to make an offer of his own holdings, but he did not. Instead he said,

“I'm very much obliged to you, Mr. Mollenhauer, for your kind words. I believe you would help me if you could. Good day.”

And he bowed himself out. He saw clearly how hopeless was his quest.

So finally, on the afternoon of October 26, 1871, Edward Strobik, president of the common council of Philadelphia, appeared before the mayor, and declared that Frank A. Cowperwood, as broker, had committed embezzlement and larceny.

Chapter XXXIII

Aileen Butler, during all this time, was following the situation by the newspapers and the local gossip with interest.

“There,” thought Aileen, when she read the newspapers, “there you have it.”

These politicians—her father among them—were trying to put the blame of their own evil deeds on her Frank. That was just what her Frank had been telling her in those happy, private hours when they had been together. He had stroked her rich hair, caressed her body, and told her it was all a prearranged political scheme to cast the blame as much as possible on him. He would come out of it all right, he said, but he cautioned her not to talk. He did not deny his long and profitable relations with Stener.

As for the two Cowperwood households, so recently and pretentiously joined in success, now so gloomily tied in failure, the life was going out of them. Frank was that life. He was the courage and force of his father: the spirit and opportunity of his brothers, the hope of his children, the estate of his wife, the dignity and significance of the Cowperwood name.

Lillian Cowperwood was utterly unhappy. As for Cowperwood, Senior, his situation at his bank and elsewhere was rapidly nearing a climax. The crisis for him came on the day when Frank was arrested.

“I never thought I'd come to this,” he muttered. “I never thought it.”

And he wiped away his salty hot tears.

Chapter XXXIV

As time went on, Butler grew more and more puzzled as to his duty in regard to his daughter. He was sure that she was still in touch with Cowperwood in some way. He thought once of going to Mrs. Cowperwood, but afterwards he decided that that would not do. Finally he decided to send Aileen to Boston or New Orleans, where a sister of his wife lived. He wrote personally to his wife's sister at New Orleans, and asked her if she would permit Aileen to come and visit her, writing Aileen an invitation; but he tore the letter up. A little later he learned accidentally that Mrs. Mollenhauer and her three daughters, Caroline, Felicia, and Alta, were going to Europe early in December to visit Paris, the Riviera, and Rome; and he decided to ask Mollenhauer to persuade his wife to invite Norah and Aileen, or Aileen only, to go along. It would be a fine way of disposing of Aileen for the present. The party was to be gone six months.

Mollenhauer was glad to do so, of course. The two families were fairly intimate. Norah was overjoyed. She wanted to see Europe, and had always been hoping for some such opportunity. Aileen was pleased from the point of view that Mrs. Mollenhauer should invite her. Years before she would have accepted in eagerly. But now she felt that it was one of the difficulties that were tending to interrupt her relations with Cowperwood. So she immediately refused.

“Oh, fine!” exclaimed Norah. “I've always wanted to go to Paris. Haven't you, Aileen? Oh, wouldn't that be fine?”

“As for me, I don't want to go,” replied Aileen. “It's coming on winter, and I haven't any clothes. I'd rather wait and go some other time.”

“Oh, Aileen!” exclaimed Norah. “How you talk! I've heard you say a dozen times you'd like to go abroad. Now the chance comes!”

Aileen was adamant. No argument both on the part of Norah and her mother had any effect. Butler witnessed the failure of his plan. When he was finally convinced that there was no hope of persuading her to accept the Mollenhauer's proposition, he decided, after a while, to employ a detective.

At that time, the reputation of William A. Pinkerton[68]68
  William A. Pinkerton – Уильям Э. Пинкертон


[Закрыть], the detective, and of his agency was great. “Well, that is the case,” said Butler to the detectives, “I'll be plain with you. My name's is Butler. I live in Philadelphy. There's a man there, a banker by the name of Cowperwood—Frank A. Cowperwood.”

“Wait a moment,” said the detective; “I've heard of him. He's mixed up in some city embezzlement case over there. Isn't that it?”

“That's the man, and that's the reason,” said Butler. “I want to know about him and a certain woman, or girl, rather.

“A relative of yours—possibly, I suppose,” remarked the detective, tactfully. “You needn't tell me any more—just give me a description if you wish.”

“Yes,” said the old man, dourly. “She is a relative. She's my daughter, in fact. You look to me like a sensible, honest man. I'm her father, and I wouldn't do anything to harm her. Do you understand?”

“Yes, I understand how you feel, Mr. Butler,” the detective observed. “I am a father myself. If you can give me an accurate description of her, I think we can tell you in no time if they are meeting with any regularity. That's all you want to know, is it—just that?”

“That's all,” said Butler, solemnly.

“Well, Mr. Butler—three or four days possibly. It depends on how long you want us to shadow him.”

“I want to know,” replied Butler, bitterly. “I want to know, if it takes a month or two months or three to find out. I want to know. And there'll be no talk about this?”

“None whatever—I assure you.”

“Thank you kindly,” commented Butler. “I'm much obliged to you. I'll pay you well.”

Chapter XXXV

Within a week the detective learned that Aileen and Cowperwood were visiting a private residence. The house on South Sixth Street was of red brick, four stories high. It's patronage was highly exclusive, only those being admitted who were known to the mistress, having been introduced by others. The mere phrase, “I have an appointment,” was sufficient, where either of the parties was known, to cause them to be shown to a private suite. Cowperwood had known of the place from previous experiences, and when it became necessary to abandon the North Tenth Street house, he had directed Aileen to meet him here.

The matter of entering a place of this kind and trying to find anyone was exceedingly difficult. The only way would be to take the woman who ran the place into one's confidence, and by paying her sufficiently.

It was an afternoon in November, when the detective, duly informed of the presence of Aileen and Cowperwood in the South Sixth Street house, drove rapidly up to Butler's office and invited him to come with him. Yet even now Butler could scarcely believe that he was to find his daughter there. The shame! The horror! What would he say to her? How reproach her? What would he do to Cowperwood? His large hands shook as he thought. They drove rapidly there. It was almost four-thirty in the afternoon. In a room within the house, Cowperwood, his coat and vest off, was kissing Aileen's pretty mouth.

While this was enacting, Butler and the detective had stepped out of sight, to one side of the front door of the house, while another detective rang the bell. A servant appeared.

“Is Mrs. Davis in?” he asked, “I'd like to see her.”

“Just come in,” said the maid. The detective took off his hat and entered. When the maid went upstairs he immediately returned to the door and let in Butler and two detectives. The four stepped into the reception-room unseen. In a few moments the “madam” appeared.

“Sorry to trouble you, Mrs. Davis,” the detective said, “but we are looking for a couple who are in your house here. We're after a runaway girl. We don't want to make any disturbance—merely to get her and take her away.”

Mrs. Davis paled and opened her mouth.

“Now don't make any noise or try to scream, or we'll have to stop you. My men are all around the house. Nobody can get out. Do you know anybody by the name of Cowperwood?”

Mrs. Davis was more or less philosophic. What good would it do to cry out? she thought. The place was surrounded. She did not know Cowperwood by his name, nor Aileen by hers. They were a Mr. and Mrs. Montague to her.

“I don't know anybody by that name,” she replied nervously.

“Isn't there a girl here with red hair? And a man with a gray suit and a light-brown mustache? They came in here half an hour ago. You remember them, don't you?”

“There's just one couple in the house, but I'm not sure whether they're the ones you want. I'll ask them to come down if you wish.”

“We merely want to see the girl and take her away. Now, you stay where you are. What room are they in?”

“In the second one in the rear upstairs. Won't you let me go, though? It will be so much better. I'll just tap and ask them to come out.”

“No. We'll do that. You stay where you are.”

Butler was thinking that he had made a mistake. He did not want to quarrel with Cowperwood, in any public way.

“Let her go,” he said grimly, referring to Mrs. Davis, “But watch her. Tell the girl to come downstairs to me.”

Reaching the door of the room occupied by Cowperwood and Aileen, Mrs. Davis, tapped lightly. At the time Aileen and Cowperwood were sitting in a big arm-chair. At the first knock Aileen blanched and leaped to her feet. Cowperwood's eyes instantly hardened.

“Don't be nervous,” he said, “no doubt it's only the servant. I'll go.”

He started, but Aileen interfered. “Wait,” she said. She went to the closet, and taking down a dressing-gown, slipped it on. Meanwhile the tap came again. Then she went to the door and opened it.

“Mrs. Montague,” exclaimed Mrs. Davis, “there's a gentleman downstairs who wishes to see you.”

“A gentleman to see me!” exclaimed Aileen, astonished and paling. “Are you sure?”

“Yes; he says he wants to see you. There are several other men with him.”

Aileen realized on the instant, as did Cowperwood: Butler or Mrs. Cowperwood had trailed them.

“I'll dress and go down,” Frank said, when he saw Aileen's pale face. “You stay here. And don't worry. This is my affair. I got you in it and I'll get you out of it.”

He went for his hat and coat and added, as he did so,

“You go ahead and dress; but let me go first.”

“No, Frank,” Aileen whispered, excitedly; “if it's father, you'd better let me go. I know how to talk to him. You stay here. I'm not afraid—really, I'm not. If I want you, I'll call you.”

“Very well,” he said, “only I'll go with you.”

They went to the door and he opened it. Outside were detectives and Mrs. Davis, standing perhaps five feet away.

“Well,” said Cowperwood, commandingly, looking at Alderson.

“There's a gentleman downstairs wishes to see the lady,” said the detective. “It's her father, I think,” he added quietly.

Cowperwood walked slowly toward the head of the stairs, listening.

“What made you come here, father?” he heard Aileen ask.

“I never expected to find you in a place like this, daughter,” Butler said. “I know who you're here with. The dog! I'll get him yet. I've had men watching you all the time. Oh, the shame of this day! The shame of this day! You'll come home with me now.”

Chapter XXXVI

They reached the house, and Aileen got out. The old man thought about Aileen. What could he do with her?

“I've been thinking about you, Aileen, and what ought to be done in this case,” began her father. “You're on the road to ruin. I tremble when I think of your immortal soul. I want to do something for you, my child, before it's too late. Oh, the shame—the shame!”

“But father,” protested Aileen, “I love Mr. Cowperwood. It's almost the same as if I were married to him. He will marry me some day when he gets a divorce from Mrs. Cowperwood. You don't understand. He's very fond of me, and I love him. He needs me.”

Butler looked at her with strange, non-understanding eyes.

“Divorce, did you say,” he began, “He'll divorce his own wife and children—and for you, will he? He needs you, does he?” he added, sarcastically. “What about his wife and children? And they don't need him, do they?”

“It's true, nevertheless,” she reiterated. “You just don't understand.”

“How long have you had these notions, my child?” he suddenly asked, calmly. “Where did you get them? You certainly never heard anything like that in this house, I suppose.”

“Oh, don't talk nonsense, father,” flared Aileen, angrily, thinking how hopeless it was to talk to her father about such things anyhow. “I'm not a child any more. I'm twenty-four years of age. You just don't understand. Mr. Cowperwood doesn't like his wife. He's going to get a divorce when he can, and will marry me. I love him, and he loves me, and that's all.”

“Is it, though?” asked Butler, grimly. “And the fact that he's going to jail is nothing to you, I suppose.”

“That's what you would like!” she sneered. “I know what you've been doing. Frank does, too. You're trying to bring him to prison for something he didn't do. Oh, I know. But you won't hurt him. You can't! He'll get out again. I'll marry him anyhow. I love him, and I'll wait for him and marry him, and you can do what you please. So there![69]69
  So there! – Вот так!


[Закрыть]”

“You'll marry him, will you?” asked Butler, astounded. “So you'll wait for him and marry him? You'll take him away from his wife and children. And marry him? You'd disgrace your father and your mother and your family? I've raised you to be a fine lady, and this is what I get. You love a convict, a robber, an embezzler, a bankrupt, a thief…”

“Father!” exclaimed Aileen, determinedly. “I'll not listen to you talking that way. He's not any of the things that you say. I'll not stay here.”

She moved toward the door; but Butler jumped up now and stopped her.

“Stop. It's the last word. You're my girl—I'll do everything I can in this world to make you happy. I've been a good father to you—you can't deny that.”

His voice weakened.

“I love you, father,” she said, softly, tenderly. “Yes, I do. I want to please you; but I I love Frank Cowperwood. You don't understand—really you don't!”

“Very well, then,” he said, sadly. “But you must go. It can't be any other way.”

“Such a situation!” he said to himself. “Such a complication!”

Chapter XXXVII

The situation which confronted Aileen was really a difficult one. For in spite of her various social connections and acquaintances, the people to whom Aileen could run in an emergency of the present kind were not numerous. She could scarcely think of any one who would be likely to take her in[70]70
  to take her in – приютить её


[Закрыть] for any lengthy period, without question. There were a number of young women of her own age, married and unmarried, who were very friendly to her, but there were few with whom she was really intimate. The only person who stood out in her mind, as having any real possibility of refuge for a period, was a certain Mary Calligan[71]71
  Mary Calligan – Мэри Кэллигэн


[Закрыть], better known as “Mamie” among her friends, who had attended school with Aileen in former years and was now a teacher in one of the local schools.

The Calligan family consisted of Mrs. Katharine Calligan, the mother, a dressmaker by profession, and Mamie, her twenty-three-year-old daughter. They lived in a small two-story brick house in Cherry Street, near Fifteenth. Mrs. Calligan was not a very good dressmaker, not good enough, at least, for the Butler family. Mamie was earning forty dollars a month as the teacher in one of the nearby public schools.

Mamie Calligan was not good-looking. Yet she was kindly, honest, earnest, and a good Catholic.

In spite of the fact that her mother was a dressmaker, Mamie's clothes never looked smart or attractive.

If Aileen had to leave home for a time, she could go to the Calligans. They would receive her and say nothing. And it came to thinking of leaving. Aileen decided she must act at once. The next morning, after her father had gone, she decided to step in at the Calligans' about noon. If they had no objection, she would go there.

Mrs. Calligan was alone when she arrived and was delighted to see her. Then Aileen went to the piano.

“Oh, it's lovely, Aileen,” observed Mrs. Calligan. “I love to hear you. I wish you'd come oftener to see us. You're so rarely here nowadays.”

“Oh, I've been so busy, Mrs. Calligan,” replied Aileen. “They wanted me to go to Europe; but I didn't want to. Oh, dear!” she sighed. The door opened and Mamie came in. Her face brightened at the sight of Aileen.

“Well, Aileen Butler!” she exclaimed. “Where did you come from?”

Aileen rose to exchange kisses.

“Oh, I've been very busy, Mamie. I've just been telling your mother. How are you, anyway? How are you getting along in your work?”

“Not bad. But what's the matter with you, Aileen, today?” Mamie asked. “You look so…”

“How do I look?” asked Aileen.

“Well, as if you were troubled about something. I never saw you look that way before. What's the matter?”

“Oh, nothing,” replied Aileen. “I was just thinking.”

She went to one of the windows which looked into the little yard.

“There is something the matter with you today, Aileen,” observed Mamie, coming over to her and looking in her face. “You're not like yourself at all.”

“I've got something on my mind,” replied Aileen, “something that's worrying me. I don't know just what to do—that's what's the matter.”

“Well, what can it be?” commented Mamie. “Can't you tell me? What is it?”

“No, I don't think I can—not now, anyhow.” Aileen paused. “Do you suppose your mother would object,” she asked, suddenly, “if I came here and stayed a little while? I want to get away from home for a time for a certain reason.”

“Why, Aileen Butler!” exclaimed her friend. “Object! You know she'd be delighted, and so would I. But what makes you want to leave home?”

“That's just what I can't tell you—not now, anyhow. Not you, so much, but your mother. You know, I'm afraid of what she'd think,” replied Aileen. “But, you mustn't ask me yet, anyhow. I want to think. Oh, dear! But I want to come, if you'll let me. Will you speak to your mother, or shall I?”

“Why, I will,” said Mamie. “You can bring your things and come. That's all. She'd never say anything or ask anything, either.” Mamie wanted the companionship of Aileen very much.

Aileen looked at her solemnly, and understood well enough why she was so enthusiastic—both she and her mother. Both wanted her presence to brighten their world.

“But neither of you must tell anybody that I'm here, do you hear? I don't want anyone to know—particularly no one of my family. You'll promise not to tell any one.”

“Oh, of course,” replied Mamie eagerly. “But you're not going to run away for good, are you, Aileen?” she concluded curiously and gravely.

“Oh, I don't know; I don't know what I'll do yet. I only know that I want to get away for a while, just now—that's all.”

“Well,” replied her friend. “Mama will be pleased. Of course, we won't tell anybody if you don't want us to. You could have this big room next to me. Oh, wouldn't that be nice? I'm perfectly delighted. Come on, why not tell mama right now?”

Mamie burst in upon her mother with: “Oh, mama, isn't it lovely? Aileen's coming to stay with us for a while. She doesn't want anyone to know, and she's coming right away.”

“Aileen, you're certainly welcome here as long as you want to stay, and that's forever, if you want to,” Mrs. Calligan said.

“I want to pay you, of course,” she said to Mrs. Calligan, “if I come.”

“Aileen Butler!” exclaimed Mamie. “You'll do nothing of the sort. You'll come here and live with me as my guest.”

“No, I won't! If I can't pay I won't come,” replied Aileen. She knew that the Calligans could not afford to keep her.

In the meantime Cowperwood made no effort to communicate with Aileen, but had awaited a letter from her. And, as usual, it was a long, optimistic, affectionate, and defiant screed in which she related all that had occurred to her and her present plan of leaving home. This last puzzled and troubled him.

“Are you sure,” he asked, after he had listened to her description of the Calligan homestead, “that you would like it there?”

“I like them so much,” replied Aileen.

“Very well,” he concluded. “You know what you're doing. I don't want to advise you against your will. If I were you, though, I'd take your father's advice and go away for a while. I'll still be here. I can write you occasionally, and you can write me.”

“Why, how you talk!” she exclaimed. “You know I won't leave Philadelphia now. You certainly don't expect me to leave you.”

“Honey,” he said, quickly, when he saw her eyes, “you don't understand. I want you to do what you want to do. But the situation is getting serious. We must be as wise as we can, don't you see? So, think it over, and do what you think best and then write me and whatever you do will be all right with me.”

He drew her to him and kissed her.

“You haven't any money, have you?” he concluded wisely. “Here's two hundred dollars, sweet.”

Aileen protested that she did not need so much—that she did not really need any—she had some at home; but he knew that she must have money.

“Don't talk, honey,” he said. “I know what you need.”

On arriving home, however, she saw Mr. and Mrs. Steinmetz[72]72
  Steinmetz – Стейнмец


[Закрыть]. They were eager to have Aileen and Norah accompany them for a fortnight's stay at their new home in West Chester. They were exceedingly agreeable people—comparatively young and surrounded by a coterie of interesting friends. Aileen decided to delay her flight and go. Her father was most cordial. The presence and invitation of the Steinmetzes was as much a relief to him as it was to Aileen. She wrote Cowperwood of the changed condition and departed, and he breathed a sigh of relief.