The necessity of a final conference between Butler, Mollenhauer, and
Simpson was speedily reached, for this situation was hourly growing
more serious. Rumors were floating about in Third Street that in
addition to having failed for so large an amount as to have further
unsettled the already panicky financial situation induced by the
Chicago fire, Cowperwood and Stener, or Stener working with Cowperwood,
or the other way round, had involved the city treasury to the extent of
five hundred thousand dollars. And the question was how was the matter
to be kept quiet until after election, which was still three weeks
away. Bankers and brokers were communicating odd rumors to each other
about a check that had been taken from the city treasury after
Cowperwood knew he was to fail, and without Stener’s consent. Also that
there was danger that it would come to the ears of that very
uncomfortable political organization known as the Citizens’ Municipal
Reform Association, of which a well-known iron-manufacturer of great
probity and moral rectitude, one Skelton C. Wheat, was president. Wheat
had for years been following on the trail of the dominant Republican
administration in a vain attempt to bring it to a sense of some of its
political iniquities. He was a serious and austere man—-one of those
solemn, self-righteous souls who see life through a peculiar veil of
duty, and who, undisturbed by notable animal passions of any kind, go
their way of upholding the theory of the Ten Commandments over the
order of things as they are.
The committee in question had originally been organized to protest
against some abuses in the tax department; but since then, from
election to election, it had been drifting from one subject to another,
finding an occasional evidence of its worthwhileness in some newspaper
comment and the frightened reformation of some minor political official
who ended, usually, by taking refuge behind the skirts of some higher
political power—in the last reaches, Messrs. Butler, Mollenhauer, and
Simpson. Just now it was without important fuel or ammunition; and this
assignment of Cowperwood, with its attendant crime, so far as the city
treasury was concerned, threatened, as some politicians and bankers saw
it, to give it just the club it was looking for.
However, the decisive conference took place between Cowperwood and the
reigning political powers some five days after Cowperwood’s failure, at
the home of Senator Simpson, which was located in Rittenhouse Square—a
region central for the older order of wealth in Philadelphia. Simpson
was a man of no little refinement artistically, of Quaker extraction,
and of great wealth-breeding judgment which he used largely to satisfy
his craving for political predominance. He was most liberal where money
would bring him a powerful or necessary political adherent. He fairly
showered offices—commissionerships, trusteeships, judgeships, political
nominations, and executive positions generally—on those who did his
bidding faithfully and without question. Compared with Butler and
Mollenhauer he was more powerful than either, for he represented the
State and the nation. When the political authorities who were trying to
swing a national election were anxious to discover what the State of
Pennsylvania would do, so far as the Republican party was concerned, it
was to Senator Simpson that they appealed. In the literal sense of the
word, he knew. The Senator had long since graduated from State to
national politics, and was an interesting figure in the United States
Senate at Washington, where his voice in all the conservative and
moneyed councils of the nation was of great weight.
The house that he occupied, of Venetian design, and four stories in
height, bore many architectural marks of distinction, such as the
floriated window, the door with the semipointed arch, and medallions of
colored marble set in the walls. The Senator was a great admirer of
Venice. He had been there often, as he had to Athens and Rome, and had
brought back many artistic objects representative of the civilizations
and refinements of older days. He was fond, for one thing, of the
stern, sculptured heads of the Roman emperors, and the fragments of
gods and goddesses which are the best testimony of the artistic
aspirations of Greece. In the entresol of this house was one of his
finest treasures—a carved and floriated base bearing a tapering
monolith some four feet high, crowned by the head of a peculiarly
goatish Pan, by the side of which were the problematic remains of a
lovely nude nymph—just the little feet broken off at the ankles. The
base on which the feet of the nymph and the monolith stood was
ornamented with carved ox-skulls intertwined with roses. In his
reception hall were replicas of Caligula, Nero, and other Roman
emperors; and on his stair-walls reliefs of dancing nymphs in
procession, and priests bearing offerings of sheep and swine to the
sacrificial altars. There was a clock in some corner of the house which
chimed the quarter, the half, the three-quarters, and the hour in
strange, euphonious, and pathetic notes. On the walls of the rooms were
tapestries of Flemish origin, and in the reception-hall, the library,
the living-room, and the drawing-room, richly carved furniture after
the standards of the Italian Renaissance. The Senator’s taste in the
matter of paintings was inadequate, and he mistrusted it; but such as
he had were of distinguished origin and authentic. He cared more for
his curio-cases filled with smaller imported bronzes, Venetian glass,
and Chinese jade. He was not a collector of these in any notable
sense—merely a lover of a few choice examples. Handsome tiger and
leopard skin rugs, the fur of a musk-ox for his divan, and tanned and
brown-stained goat and kid skins for his tables, gave a sense of
elegance and reserved profusion. In addition the Senator had a
dining-room done after the Jacobean idea of artistic excellence, and a
wine-cellar which the best of the local vintners looked after with
extreme care. He was a man who loved to entertain lavishly; and when
his residence was thrown open for a dinner, a reception, or a ball, the
best of local society was to be found there.
The conference was in the Senator’s library, and he received his
colleagues with the genial air of one who has much to gain and little
to lose. There were whiskies, wines, cigars on the table, and while
Mollenhauer and Simpson exchanged the commonplaces of the day awaiting
the arrival of Butler, they lighted cigars and kept their inmost
thoughts to themselves.
It so happened that upon the previous afternoon Butler had learned from
Mr. David Pettie, the district attorney, of the
sixty-thousand-dollar-check transaction. At the same time the matter
had been brought to Mollenhauer’s attention by Stener himself. It was
Mollenhauer, not Butler who saw that by taking advantage of
Cowperwood’s situation, he might save the local party from blame, and
at the same time most likely fleece Cowperwood out of his
street-railway shares without letting Butler or Simpson know anything
about it. The thing to do was to terrorize him with a private threat of
prosecution.
Butler was not long in arriving, and apologized for the delay.
Concealing his recent grief behind as jaunty an air as possible, he
began with:
“It’s a lively life I’m leadin’, what with every bank in the city
wantin’ to know how their loans are goin’ to be taken care of.” He took
a cigar and struck a match.
“It does look a little threatening,” said Senator Simpson, smiling.
“Sit down. I have just been talking with Avery Stone, of Jay Cooke &
Company, and he tells me that the talk in Third Street about Stener’s
connection with this Cowperwood failure is growing very strong, and
that the newspapers are bound to take up the matter shortly, unless
something is done about it. I am sure that the news will also reach Mr.
Wheat, of the Citizens’ Reform Association, very shortly. We ought to
decide now, gentlemen, what we propose to do. One thing, I am sure, is
to eliminate Stener from the ticket as quietly as possible. This really
looks to me as if it might become a very serious issue, and we ought to
be doing what we can now to offset its effect later.”
Mollenhauer pulled a long breath through his cigar, and blew it out in
a rolling steel-blue cloud. He studied the tapestry on the opposite
wall but said nothing.
“There is one thing sure,” continued Senator Simpson, after a time,
seeing that no one else spoke, “and that is, if we do not begin a
prosecution on our own account within a reasonable time, some one else
is apt to; and that would put rather a bad face on the matter. My own
opinion would be that we wait until it is very plain that prosecution
is going to be undertaken by some one else—possibly the Municipal
Reform Association—but that we stand ready to step in and act in such a
way as to make it look as though we had been planning to do it all the
time. The thing to do is to gain time; and so I would suggest that it
be made as difficult as possible to get at the treasurer’s books. An
investigation there, if it begins at all—as I think is very
likely—should be very slow in producing the facts.”
The Senator was not at all for mincing words with his important
confreres, when it came to vital issues. He preferred, in his
grandiloquent way, to call a spade a spade.
“Now that sounds like very good sense to me,” said Butler, sinking a
little lower in his chair for comfort’s sake, and concealing his true
mood in regard to all this. “The boys could easily make that
investigation last three weeks, I should think. They’re slow enough
with everything else, if me memory doesn’t fail me.” At the same time
he was cogitating as to how to inject the personality of Cowperwood and
his speedy prosecution without appearing to be neglecting the general
welfare of the local party too much.
“Yes, that isn’t a bad idea,” said Mollenhauer, solemnly, blowing a
ring of smoke, and thinking how to keep Cowperwood’s especial offense
from coming up at this conference and until after he had seen him.
“We ought to map out our program very carefully,” continued Senator
Simpson, “so that if we are compelled to act we can do so very quickly.
I believe myself that this thing is certain to come to an issue within
a week, if not sooner, and we have no time to lose. If my advice were
followed now, I should have the mayor write the treasurer a letter
asking for information, and the treasurer write the mayor his answer,
and also have the mayor, with the authority of the common council,
suspend the treasurer for the time being—I think we have the authority
to do that—or, at least, take over his principal duties but without for
the time being, anyhow, making any of these transactions public—until
we have to, of course. We ought to be ready with these letters to show
to the newspapers at once, in case this action is forced upon us.”
“I could have those letters prepared, if you gentlemen have no
objection,” put in Mollenhauer, quietly, but quickly.
“Well, that strikes me as sinsible,” said Butler, easily. “It’s about
the only thing we can do under the circumstances, unless we could find
some one else to blame it on, and I have a suggestion to make in that
direction. Maybe we’re not as helpless as we might be, all things
considered.”
There was a slight gleam of triumph in his eye as he said this, at the
same time that there was a slight shadow of disappointment in
Mollenhauer’s. So Butler knew, and probably Simpson, too.
“Just what do you mean?” asked the Senator, looking at Butler
interestedly. He knew nothing of the sixty-thousand-dollar check
transaction. He had not followed the local treasury dealings very
closely, nor had he talked to either of his confreres since the
original conference between them. “There haven’t been any outside
parties mixed up with this, have there?” His own shrewd, political mind
was working.
“No-o. I wouldn’t call him an outside party, exactly, Senator,” went on
Butler suavely. “It’s Cowperwood himself I’m thinkin’ of. There’s
somethin’ that has come up since I saw you gentlemen last that makes me
think that perhaps that young man isn’t as innocent as he might be. It
looks to me as though he was the ringleader in this business, as though
he had been leadin’ Stener on against his will. I’ve been lookin’ into
the matter on me own account, and as far as I can make out this man
Stener isn’t as much to blame as I thought. From all I can learn,
Cowperwood’s been threatenin’ Stener with one thing and another if he
didn’t give him more money, and only the other day he got a big sum on
false pretinses, which might make him equally guilty with Stener.
There’s sixty-thousand dollars of city loan certificates that has been
paid for that aren’t in the sinking-fund. And since the reputation of
the party’s in danger this fall, I don’t see that we need to have any
particular consideration for him.” He paused, strong in the conviction
that he had sent a most dangerous arrow flying in the direction of
Cowperwood, as indeed he had. Yet at this moment, both the Senator and
Mollenhauer were not a little surprised, seeing at their last meeting
he had appeared rather friendly to the young banker, and this recent
discovery seemed scarcely any occasion for a vicious attitude on his
part. Mollenhauer in particular was surprised, for he had been looking
on Butler’s friendship for Cowperwood as a possible stumbling block.
“Um-m, you don’t tell me,” observed Senator Simpson, thoughtfully,
stroking his mouth with his pale hand.
“Yes, I can confirm that,” said Mollenhauer, quietly, seeing his own
little private plan of browbeating Cowperwood out of his street-railway
shares going glimmering. “I had a talk with Stener the other day about
this very matter, and he told me that Cowperwood had been trying to
force him to give him three hundred thousand dollars more, and that
when he refused Cowperwood managed to get sixty thousand dollars
further without his knowledge or consent.”
“How could he do that?” asked Senator Simpson, incredulously.
Mollenhauer explained the transaction.
“Oh,” said the Senator, when Mollenhauer had finished, “that indicates
a rather sharp person, doesn’t it? And the certificates are not in the
sinking-fund, eh?”
“They’re not,” chimed in Butler, with considerable enthusiasm.
“Well, I must say,” said Simpson, rather relieved in his manner, “this
looks like a rather good thing than not to me. A scapegoat possibly. We
need something like this. I see no reason under the circumstances for
trying to protect Mr. Cowperwood. We might as well try to make a point
of that, if we have to. The newspapers might just as well talk loud
about that as anything else. They are bound to talk; and if we give
them the right angle, I think that the election might well come and go
before the matter could be reasonably cleared up, even though Mr. Wheat
does interfere. I will be glad to undertake to see what can be done
with the papers.”
“Well, that bein’ the case,” said Butler, “I don’t see that there’s so
much more we can do now; but I do think it will be a mistake if
Cowperwood isn’t punished with the other one. He’s equally guilty with
Stener, if not more so, and I for one want to see him get what he
deserves. He belongs in the penitentiary, and that’s where he’ll go if
I have my say.” Both Mollenhauer and Simpson turned a reserved and
inquiring eye on their usually genial associate. What could be the
reason for his sudden determination to have Cowperwood punished?
Cowperwood, as Mollenhauer and Simpson saw it, and as Butler would
ordinarily have seen it, was well within his human, if not his strictly
legal rights. They did not blame him half as much for trying to do what
he had done as they blamed Stener for letting him do it. But, since
Butler felt as he did, and there was an actual technical crime here,
they were perfectly willing that the party should have the advantage of
it, even if Cowperwood went to the penitentiary.
“You may be right,” said Senator Simpson, cautiously. “You might have
those letters prepared, Henry; and if we have to bring any action at
all against anybody before election, it would, perhaps, be advisable to
bring it against Cowperwood. Include Stener if you have to but not
unless you have to. I leave it to you two, as I am compelled to start
for Pittsburg next Friday; but I know you will not overlook any point.”
The Senator arose. His time was always valuable. Butler was highly
gratified by what he had accomplished. He had succeeded in putting the
triumvirate on record against Cowperwood as the first victim, in case
of any public disturbance or demonstration against the party. All that
was now necessary was for that disturbance to manifest itself; and,
from what he could see of local conditions, it was not far off. There
was now the matter of Cowperwood’s disgruntled creditors to look into;
and if by buying in these he should succeed in preventing the financier
from resuming business, he would have him in a very precarious
condition indeed. It was a sad day for Cowperwood, Butler thought—the
day he had first tried to lead Aileen astray—and the time was not far
off when he could prove it to him.