The Die is Cast
The significance of this visit was not long in manifesting itself. At
the top, in large affairs, life goes off into almost inexplicable
tangles of personalities. Mr. McKenty, now that the matter had been
called to his attention, was interested to learn about this gas
situation from all sides--whether it might not be more profitable to
deal with the Schryhart end of the argument, and so on. But his
eventual conclusion was that Cowperwood's plan, as he had outlined it,
was the most feasible for political purposes, largely because the
Schryhart faction, not being in a position where they needed to ask the
city council for anything at present, were so obtuse as to forget to
make overtures of any kind to the bucaneering forces at the City Hall.
When Cowperwood next came to McKenty's house the latter was in a
receptive frame of mind. "Well," he said, after a few genial
preliminary remarks, "I've been learning what's going on. Your
proposition is fair enough. Organize your company, and arrange your
plan conditionally. Then introduce your ordinance, and we'll see what
can be done." They went into a long, intimate discussion as to how the
forthcoming stock should be divided, how it was to be held in escrow by
a favorite bank of Mr. McKenty's until the terms of the agreement under
the eventual affiliation with the old companies or the new union
company should be fulfilled, and details of that sort. It was rather a
complicated arrangement, not as satisfactory to Cowperwood as it might
have been, but satisfactory in that it permitted him to win. It
required the undivided services of General Van Sickle, Henry De Soto
Sippens, Kent Barrows McKibben, and Alderman Dowling for some little
time. But finally all was in readiness for the coup.
On a certain Monday night, therefore, following the Thursday on which,
according to the rules of the city council, an ordinance of this
character would have to be introduced, the plan, after being publicly
broached but this very little while, was quickly considered by the city
council and passed. There had been really no time for public
discussion. This was just the thing, of course, that Cowperwood and
McKenty were trying to avoid. On the day following the particular
Thursday on which the ordinance had been broached in council as certain
to be brought up for passage, Schryhart, through his lawyers and the
officers of the old individual gas companies, had run to the newspapers
and denounced the whole thing as plain robbery; but what were they to
do? There was so little time for agitation. True the newspapers,
obedient to this larger financial influence, began to talk of "fair
play to the old companies," and the uselessness of two large rival
companies in the field when one would serve as well. Still the public,
instructed or urged by the McKenty agents to the contrary, were not
prepared to believe it. They had not been so well treated by the old
companies as to make any outcry on their behalf.
Standing outside the city council door, on the Monday evening when the
bill was finally passed, Mr. Samuel Blackman, president of the South
Side Gas Company, a little, wispy man with shoe-brush whiskers,
declared emphatically:
"This is a scoundrelly piece of business. If the mayor signs that he
should be impeached. There is not a vote in there to-night that has
not been purchased--not one. This is a fine element of brigandage to
introduce into Chicago; why, people who have worked years and years to
build up a business are not safe!"
"It's true, every word of it," complained Mr. Jordan Jules, president
of the North Side company, a short, stout man with a head like an egg
lying lengthwise, a mere fringe of hair, and hard, blue eyes. He was
with Mr. Hudson Baker, tall and ambling, who was president of the West
Chicago company. All of these had come to protest.
"It's that scoundrel from Philadelphia. He's the cause of all our
troubles. It's high time the respectable business element of Chicago
realized just what sort of a man they have to deal with in him. He
ought to be driven out of here. Look at his Philadelphia record. They
sent him to the penitentiary down there, and they ought to do it here."
Mr. Baker, very recently the guest of Schryhart, and his henchman, too,
was also properly chagrined. "The man is a charlatan," he protested to
Blackman. "He doesn't play fair. It is plain that he doesn't belong
in respectable society."
Nevertheless, and in spite of this, the ordinance was passed. It was a
bitter lesson for Mr. Norman Schryhart, Mr. Norrie Simms, and all those
who had unfortunately become involved. A committee composed of all
three of the old companies visited the mayor; but the latter, a tool of
McKenty, giving his future into the hands of the enemy, signed it just
the same. Cowperwood had his franchise, and, groan as they might, it
was now necessary, in the language of a later day, "to step up and see
the captain." Only Schryhart felt personally that his score with
Cowperwood was not settled. He would meet him on some other ground
later. The next time he would try to fight fire with fire. But for
the present, shrewd man that he was, he was prepared to compromise.
Thereafter, dissembling his chagrin as best he could, he kept on the
lookout for Cowperwood at both of the clubs of which he was a member;
but Cowperwood had avoided them during this period of excitement, and
Mahomet would have to go to the mountain. So one drowsy June afternoon
Mr. Schryhart called at Cowperwood's office. He had on a bright, new,
steel-gray suit and a straw hat. From his pocket, according to the
fashion of the time, protruded a neat, blue-bordered silk handkerchief,
and his feet were immaculate in new, shining Oxford ties.
"I'm sailing for Europe in a few days, Mr. Cowperwood," he remarked,
genially, "and I thought I'd drop round to see if you and I could reach
some agreement in regard to this gas situation. The officers of the
old companies naturally feel that they do not care to have a rival in
the field, and I'm sure that you are not interested in carrying on a
useless rate war that won't leave anybody any profit. I recall that you
were willing to compromise on a half-and-half basis with me before, and
I was wondering whether you were still of that mind."
"Sit down, sit down, Mr. Schryhart," remarked Cowperwood, cheerfully,
waving the new-comer to a chair. "I'm pleased to see you again. No,
I'm no more anxious for a rate war than you are. As a matter of fact,
I hope to avoid it; but, as you see, things have changed somewhat since
I saw you. The gentlemen who have organized and invested their money
in this new city gas company are perfectly willing--rather anxious, in
fact--to go on and establish a legitimate business. They feel all the
confidence in the world that they can do this, and I agree with them.
A compromise might be effected between the old and the new companies,
but not on the basis on which I was willing to settle some time ago. A
new company has been organized since then, stock issued, and a great
deal of money expended." (This was not true.) "That stock will have to
figure in any new agreement. I think a general union of all the
companies is desirable, but it will have to be on a basis of one, two,
three, or four shares--whatever is decided--at par for all stock
involved."
Mr. Schryhart pulled a long face. "Don't you think that's rather
steep?" he said, solemnly.
"Not at all, not at all!" replied Cowperwood. "You know these new
expenditures were not undertaken voluntarily." (The irony of this did
not escape Mr. Schryhart, but he said nothing.)
"I admit all that, but don't you think, since your shares are worth
practically nothing at present, that you ought to be satisfied if they
were accepted at par?"
"I can't see why," replied Cowperwood. "Our future prospects are
splendid. There must be an even adjustment here or nothing. What I
want to know is how much treasury stock you would expect to have in the
safe for the promotion of this new organization after all the old
stockholders have been satisfied?"
"Well, as I thought before, from thirty to forty per cent. of the total
issue," replied Schryhart, still hopeful of a profitable adjustment.
"I should think it could be worked on that basis."
"And who gets that?"
"Why, the organizer," said Schryhart, evasively. "Yourself, perhaps,
and myself."
"And how would you divide it? Half and half, as before?"
"I should think that would be fair."
"It isn't enough," returned Cowperwood, incisively. "Since I talked to
you last I have been compelled to shoulder obligations and make
agreements which I did not anticipate then. The best I can do now is
to accept three-fourths."
Schryhart straightened up determinedly and offensively. This was
outrageous, he thought, impossible! The effrontery of it!
"It can never be done, Mr. Cowperwood," he replied, forcefully. "You
are trying to unload too much worthless stock on the company as it is.
The old companies' stock is selling right now, as you know, for from
one-fifty to two-ten. Your stock is worth nothing. If you are to be
given two or three for one for that, and three-fourths of the remainder
in the treasury, I for one want nothing to do with the deal. You would
be in control of the company, and it will be water-logged, at that.
Talk about getting something for nothing! The best I would suggest to
the stockholders of the old companies would be half and half. And I
may say to you frankly, although you may not believe it, that the old
companies will not join in with you in any scheme that gives you
control. They are too much incensed. Feeling is running too high. It
will mean a long, expensive fight, and they will never compromise. Now,
if you have anything really reasonable to offer I would be glad to hear
it. Otherwise I am afraid these negotiations are not going to come to
anything."
"Share and share alike, and three-fourths of the remainder," repeated
Cowperwood, grimly. "I do not want to control. If they want to raise
the money and buy me out on that basis I am willing to sell. I want a
decent return for investments I have made, and I am going to have it.
I cannot speak for the others behind me, but as long as they deal
through me that is what they will expect."
Mr. Schryhart went angrily away. He was exceedingly wroth. This
proposition as Cowperwood now outlined it was bucaneering at its best.
He proposed for himself to withdraw from the old companies if
necessary, to close out his holdings and let the old companies deal
with Cowperwood as best they could. So long as he had anything to do
with it, Cowperwood should never gain control of the gas situation.
Better to take him at his suggestion, raise the money and buy him out,
even at an exorbitant figure. Then the old gas companies could go
along and do business in their old-fashioned way without being
disturbed. This bucaneer! This upstart! What a shrewd, quick, forceful
move he had made! It irritated Mr. Schryhart greatly.
The end of all this was a compromise in which Cowperwood accepted
one-half of the surplus stock of the new general issue, and two for one
of every share of stock for which his new companies had been organized,
at the same time selling out to the old companies--clearing out
completely. It was a most profitable deal, and he was enabled to
provide handsomely not only for Mr. McKenty and Addison, but for all
the others connected with him. It was a splendid coup, as McKenty and
Addison assured him. Having now done so much, he began to turn his
eyes elsewhere for other fields to conquer.
But this victory in one direction brought with it corresponding
reverses in another: the social future of Cowperwood and Aileen was now
in great jeopardy. Schryhart, who was a force socially, having met
with defeat at the hands of Cowperwood, was now bitterly opposed to
him. Norrie Simms naturally sided with his old associates. But the
worst blow came through Mrs. Anson Merrill. Shortly after the
housewarming, and when the gas argument and the conspiracy charges were
rising to their heights, she had been to New York and had there chanced
to encounter an old acquaintance of hers, Mrs. Martyn Walker, of
Philadelphia, one of the circle which Cowperwood once upon a time had
been vainly ambitious to enter. Mrs. Merrill, aware of the interest
the Cowperwoods had aroused in Mrs. Simms and others, welcomed the
opportunity to find out something definite.
"By the way, did you ever chance to hear of a Frank Algernon Cowperwood
or his wife in Philadelphia?" she inquired of Mrs. Walker.
"Why, my dear Nellie," replied her friend, nonplussed that a woman so
smart as Mrs. Merrill should even refer to them, "have those people
established themselves in Chicago? His career in Philadelphia was, to
say the least, spectacular. He was connected with a city treasurer
there who stole five hundred thousand dollars, and they both went to
the penitentiary. That wasn't the worst of it! He became intimate with
some young girl--a Miss Butler, the sister of Owen Butler, by the way,
who is now such a power down there, and--" She merely lifted her eyes.
"While he was in the penitentiary her father died and the family broke
up. I even heard it rumored that the old gentleman killed himself."
(She was referring to Aileen's father, Edward Malia Butler.) "When he
came out of the penitentiary Cowperwood disappeared, and I did hear
some one say that he had gone West, and divorced his wife and married
again. His first wife is still living in Philadelphia somewhere with
his two children."
Mrs. Merrill was properly astonished, but she did not show it. "Quite
an interesting story, isn't it?" she commented, distantly, thinking how
easy it would be to adjust the Cowperwood situation, and how pleased
she was that she had never shown any interest in them. "Did you ever
see her--his new wife?"
"I think so, but I forget where. I believe she used to ride and drive
a great deal in Philadelphia."
"Did she have red hair?"
"Oh yes. She was a very striking blonde."
"I fancy it must be the same person. They have been in the papers
recently in Chicago. I wanted to be sure."
Mrs. Merrill was meditating some fine comments to be made in the future.
"I suppose now they're trying to get into Chicago society?" Mrs. Walker
smiled condescendingly and contemptuously--as much at Chicago society
as at the Cowperwoods.
"It's possible that they might attempt something like that in the East
and succeed--I'm sure I don't know," replied Mrs. Merrill, caustically,
resenting the slur, "but attempting and achieving are quite different
things in Chicago."
The answer was sufficient. It ended the discussion. When next Mrs.
Simms was rash enough to mention the Cowperwoods, or, rather, the
peculiar publicity in connection with him, her future viewpoint was
definitely fixed for her.
"If you take my advice," commented Mrs. Merrill, finally, "the less you
have to do with these friends of yours the better. I know all about
them. You might have seen that from the first. They can never be
accepted."
Mrs. Merrill did not trouble to explain why, but Mrs. Simms through her
husband soon learned the whole truth, and she was righteously indignant
and even terrified. Who was to blame for this sort of thing, anyhow?
she thought. Who had introduced them? The Addisons, of course. But
the Addisons were socially unassailable, if not all-powerful, and so
the best had to be made of that. But the Cowperwoods could be dropped
from the lists of herself and her friends instantly, and that was now
done. A sudden slump in their social significance began to manifest
itself, though not so swiftly but what for the time being it was
slightly deceptive.
The first evidence of change which Aileen observed was when the
customary cards and invitations for receptions and the like, which had
come to them quite freely of late, began to decline sharply in number,
and when the guests to her own Wednesday afternoons, which rather
prematurely she had ventured to establish, became a mere negligible
handful. At first she could not understand this, not being willing to
believe that, following so soon upon her apparent triumph as a hostess
in her own home, there could be so marked a decline in her local
importance. Of a possible seventy-five or fifty who might have called
or left cards, within three weeks after the housewarming only twenty
responded. A week later it had declined to ten, and within five weeks,
all told, there was scarcely a caller. It is true that a very few of
the unimportant--those who had looked to her for influence and the
self-protecting Taylor Lord and Kent McKibben, who were commercially
obligated to Cowperwood--were still faithful, but they were really
worse than nothing. Aileen was beside herself with disappointment,
opposition, chagrin, shame. There are many natures, rhinoceros-bided
and iron-souled, who can endure almost any rebuff in the hope of
eventual victory, who are almost too thick-skinned to suffer, but hers
was not one of these. Already, in spite of her original daring in
regard to the opinion of society and the rights of the former Mrs.
Cowperwood, she was sensitive on the score of her future and what her
past might mean to her. Really her original actions could be
attributed to her youthful passion and the powerful sex magnetism of
Cowperwood. Under more fortunate circumstances she would have married
safely enough and without the scandal which followed. As it was now,
her social future here needed to end satisfactorily in order to justify
herself to herself, and, she thought, to him.
"You may put the sandwiches in the ice-box," she said to Louis, the
butler, after one of the earliest of the "at home" failures, referring
to the undue supply of pink-and-blue-ribboned titbits which, uneaten,
honored some fine Sevres with their presence. "Send the flowers to the
hospital. The servants may drink the claret cup and lemonade. Keep
some of the cakes fresh for dinner."
The butler nodded his head. "Yes, Madame," he said. Then, by way of
pouring oil on what appeared to him to be a troubled situation, he
added: "Eet's a rough day. I suppose zat has somepsing to do weeth it."
Aileen was aflame in a moment. She was about to exclaim: "Mind your
business!" but changed her mind. "Yes, I presume so," was her answer,
as she ascended to her room. If a single poor "at home" was to be
commented on by servants, things were coming to a pretty pass. She
waited until the next week to see whether this was the weather or a
real change in public sentiment. It was worse than the one before.
The singers she had engaged had to be dismissed without performing the
service for which they had come. Kent McKibben and Taylor Lord, very
well aware of the rumors now flying about, called, but in a remote and
troubled spirit. Aileen saw that, too. An affair of this kind, with
only these two and Mrs. Webster Israels and Mrs. Henry Huddlestone
calling, was a sad indication of something wrong. She had to plead
illness and excuse herself. The third week, fearing a worse defeat
than before, Aileen pretended to be ill. She would see how many cards
were left. There were just three. That was the end. She realized that
her "at homes" were a notable failure.
At the same time Cowperwood was not to be spared his share in the
distrust and social opposition which was now rampant.
His first inkling of the true state of affairs came in connection with
a dinner which, on the strength of an old invitation, they
unfortunately attended at a time when Aileen was still uncertain. It
had been originally arranged by the Sunderland Sledds, who were not so
much socially, and who at the time it occurred were as yet unaware of
the ugly gossip going about, or at least of society's new attitude
toward the Cowperwoods. At this time it was understood by nearly
all--the Simms, Candas, Cottons, and Kingslands--that a great mistake
had been made, and that the Cowperwoods were by no means admissible.
To this particular dinner a number of people, whom the latter knew, had
been invited. Uniformly all, when they learned or recalled that the
Cowperwoods were expected, sent eleventh-hour regrets--"so sorry."
Outside the Sledds there was only one other couple--the Stanislau
Hoecksemas, for whom the Cowperwoods did not particularly care. It was
a dull evening. Aileen complained of a headache, and they went home.
Very shortly afterward, at a reception given by their neighbors, the
Haatstaedts, to which they had long since been invited, there was an
evident shyness in regard to them, quite new in its aspect, although
the hosts themselves were still friendly enough. Previous to this,
when strangers of prominence had been present at an affair of this kind
they were glad to be brought over to the Cowperwoods, who were always
conspicuous because of Aileen's beauty. On this day, for no reason
obvious to Aileen or Cowperwood (although both suspected),
introductions were almost uniformly refused. There were a number who
knew them, and who talked casually, but the general tendency on the
part of all was to steer clear of them. Cowperwood sensed the
difficulty at once. "I think we'd better leave early," he remarked to
Aileen, after a little while. "This isn't very interesting."
They returned to their own home, and Cowperwood to avoid discussion
went down-town. He did not care to say what he thought of this as yet.
It was previous to a reception given by the Union League that the first
real blow was struck at him personally, and that in a roundabout way.
Addison, talking to him at the Lake National Bank one morning, had said
quite confidentially, and out of a clear sky:
"I want to tell you something, Cowperwood. You know by now something
about Chicago society. You also know where I stand in regard to some
things you told me about your past when I first met you. Well, there's
a lot of talk going around about you now in regard to all that, and
these two clubs to which you and I belong are filled with a lot of
two-faced, double-breasted hypocrites who've been stirred up by this
talk of conspiracy in the papers. There are four or five stockholders
of the old companies who are members, and they are trying to drive you
out. They've looked up that story you told me, and they're talking
about filing charges with the house committees at both places. Now,
nothing can come of it in either case--they've been talking to me; but
when this next reception comes along you'll know what to do. They'll
have to extend you an invitation; but they won't mean it." (Cowperwood
understood.) "This whole thing is certain to blow over, in my judgment;
it will if I have anything to do with it; but for the present--"
He stared at Cowperwood in a friendly way.
The latter smiled. "I expected something like this, Judah, to tell you
the truth," he said, easily. "I've expected it all along. You needn't
worry about me. I know all about this. I've seen which way the wind
is blowing, and I know how to trim my sails."
Addison reached out and took his hand. "But don't resign, whatever you
do," he said, cautiously. "That would be a confession of weakness, and
they don't expect you to. I wouldn't want you to. Stand your ground.
This whole thing will blow over. They're jealous, I think."
"I never intended to," replied Cowperwood. "There's no legitimate
charge against me. I know it will all blow over if I'm given time
enough." Nevertheless he was chagrined to think that he should be
subjected to such a conversation as this with any one.
Similarly in other ways "society"--so called--was quite able to enforce
its mandates and conclusions.
The one thing that Cowperwood most resented, when he learned of it much
later, was a snub direct given to Aileen at the door of the Norrie
Simmses'; she called there only to be told that Mrs. Simms was not at
home, although the carriages of others were in the street. A few days
afterward Aileen, much to his regret and astonishment--for he did not
then know the cause--actually became ill.
If it had not been for Cowperwood's eventual financial triumph over all
opposition--the complete routing of the enemy--in the struggle for
control in the gas situation--the situation would have been hard,
indeed. As it was, Aileen suffered bitterly; she felt that the slight
was principally directed at her, and would remain in force. In the
privacy of their own home they were compelled eventually to admit, the
one to the other, that their house of cards, resplendent and forceful
looking as it was, had fallen to the ground. Personal confidences
between people so closely united are really the most trying of all.
Human souls are constantly trying to find each other, and rarely
succeeding.
"You know," he finally said to her once, when he came in rather
unexpectedly and found her sick in bed, her eyes wet, and her maid
dismissed for the day, "I understand what this is all about. To tell
you the truth, Aileen, I rather expected it. We have been going too
fast, you and I. We have been pushing this matter too hard. Now, I
don't like to see you taking it this way, dear. This battle isn't lost.
Why, I thought you had more courage than this. Let me tell you
something which you don't seem to remember. Money will solve all this
sometime. I'm winning in this fight right now, and I'll win in others.
They are coming to me. Why, dearie, you oughtn't to despair. You're
too young. I never do. You'll win yet. We can adjust this matter
right here in Chicago, and when we do we will pay up a lot of scores at
the same time. We're rich, and we're going to be richer. That will
settle it. Now put on a good face and look pleased; there are plenty of
things to live for in this world besides society. Get up now and
dress, and we'll go for a drive and dinner down-town. You have me yet.
Isn't that something?"
"Oh yes," sighed Aileen, heavily; but she sank back again. She put her
arms about his neck and cried, as much out of joy over the consolation
he offered as over the loss she had endured. "It was as much for you
as for me," she sighed.
"I know that," he soothed; "but don't worry about it now. You will
come out all right. We both will. Come, get up." Nevertheless, he was
sorry to see her yield so weakly. It did not please him. He resolved
some day to have a grim adjustment with society on this score.
Meanwhile Aileen was recovering her spirits. She was ashamed of her
weakness when she saw how forcefully he faced it all.
"Oh, Frank," she exclaimed, finally, "you're always so wonderful.
You're such a darling."
"Never mind," he said, cheerfully. "If we don't win this game here in
Chicago, we will somewhere."
He was thinking of the brilliant manner in which he had adjusted his
affairs with the old gas companies and Mr. Schryhart, and how
thoroughly he would handle some other matters when the time came.