Бесплатный фрагмент - The Stoic

Chapter 1

There were two most disturbing problems confronting Frank Cowperwood at the time of his Chicago defeat, when, so reducingly and after so long a struggle, he lost his fight for a fifty-year franchise renewal.

First, there was his age. He was nearing sixty, and while seemingly as vigorous as ever, it would be no easy matter, he felt, with younger and equally resourceful financiers on the scene, to pile up the great fortune which assuredly would have been his if his franchise had been extended. That fortune would have been all of $50,000,000.

Secondly, and of even greater importance, in his realistic judgment, was the fact that by this time he had still not achieved social connections of any value; in other words, social prestige. Of course, his youthful incarceration in the penitentiary in Philadelphia had not helped matters, and then, too, his natural varietism, plus his unfortunate marriage to Aileen, who had been no real social help, and his own determined and almost savage individualism, had alienated many who otherwise might have been friendly to him.

For Cowperwood was not one to make friends of those less forceful, subtle, or efficient than himself. It smacked too much of meaningless self-depreciation and was, at best, in his opinion, a waste of time. On the other hand, he found, the strong and cunning or genuinely significant were not always easy to acquire as friends. Particularly here in Chicago, where he had fought so many of them for position and power, they had chosen to combine against him, not because he represented morals or methods different from any they were willing to practice or accept in others, but rather because he, a total stranger, had ventured on financial preserves presumably their own and had risen to greater wealth and power, and in less time, than they had. Moreover, he had attracted the wives and daughters of some of the very men who were most jealous of him financially, and so they had set out to ostracize him socially and had well-nigh succeeded in doing so.

So far as sex was concerned, he had always desired individual freedom and proceeded ruthlessly to achieve it. At the same time, he had always held the thought that somewhere he might well meet a woman so superior that in spite of himself he might be held, not to absolute faithfulness — he was never willing to count upon that in regard to himself — but rather to a genuine union of understanding and affection. For eight years now he had felt that he had really found that ideal individual in the girl, Berenice Fleming. Obviously, she was not overawed by his personality or his fame, nor at all impressed by his usual arts. And because of that, as well as the deep aesthetic and sensual spell she cast over him, there had arisen in him a conviction that she, with her youth, beauty, mental awareness, and certainty as to her own personal value, could contrive and maintain the natural social background for his force and wealth, assuming, of course, that he were ever free to marry her.

Unfortunately, for all his determination in connection with Aileen, he had not been able to divest himself of her. For one thing, she was determined not to give him up. And to have added a contest for freedom to his difficult railway fight in Chicago would have been too much of a burden. Moreover, in Berenice’s attitude, he saw no trace of the necessary acceptance. Her eyes appeared to be set toward men not only younger than himself but with conventional social advantages which his personal record made it impossible for him to offer her. This had given him his first real taste of romantic defeat, and he had sat alone in his rooms for hours at a time convinced that he was hopelessly beaten in his battle for greater fortune and for the love of Berenice.

And then suddenly she had come to him and announced a most amazing and unexpected surrender, so that he experienced a sense of rejuvenation which almost at once definitely restored his old constructive mood. At last, he felt, he had the love of a woman who could truly support him in his quest for power, fame, prestige.

On the other hand, as frank and direct as had been her explanation of why she had come — «I thought you really might need me now… I have made up my mind» — still, there was on her part a certain hurt attitude in regard to life and society which moved her to seek reparation in some form for the cruelties she felt had been imposed on her in her early youth. What she was really thinking, and what Cowperwood, because of his delight at her sudden surrender did not comprehend, was: You are a social outcast, and so am I. The world has sought to frustrate you. In my own case, it has attempted to exclude me from the sphere to which, temperamentally and in every other way, I feel I belong. You are resentful, and so am I. Therefore, a partnership: one of beauty and strength and intelligence and courage on both sides, but without domination by either of us. For without fair play between us, there is no possibility of this unsanctioned union enduring. This was the essence of her motive in coming to him at this time.

And yet Cowperwood, aware as he was of her force and subtlety, was not so fully aware of her chain of thought in this direction. He would not have said, for instance, looking upon her on that wintry night of her arrival (perfect and flowery out of an icy wind), that she was as carefully and determinedly aligned mentally. It was a little too much to expect of one so youthful, smiling, gay and altogether exquisite in every feminine sense. And yet she was. She stood daringly, and yet secretly somewhat nervously, before him. There was no trace of malice in regard to him; rather love, if a desire to be with him and of him for the remainder of his days on these conditions might be called love. Through him and with him she would walk to such victory as might be possible, the two of them whole-heartedly and sympathetically co-operating.

And so, on that first night, Cowperwood turned to her and said: «But Bevy, I’m really curious as to this sudden decision of yours. To think you should come to me now just when I have met my second really important setback.»

Her still blue eyes enveloped him as might a warming cloak or a dissolving ether.

«Well, I’ve been thinking and reading about you for years, you know. Only last Sunday, in New York, I read two whole pages about you in the Sun. They made me understand you a little better, I think.»

«The newspapers! Did they, really?»

«Yes, and no. Not what they said about you critically, but the facts, if they are facts, that they pieced together. You never cared for your first wife, did you?»

«Well, I thought I did, at first. But, of course, I was very young when I married her.»

«And the present Mrs. Cowperwood?»

«Oh, Aileen, yes. I cared for her very much at one time,» he confessed. «She did a great deal for me once, and I am not ungrateful, Bevy. Besides, she was very attractive, very, to me at that time. But I was still young, and not as exacting mentally as I am now. The fault is not Aileen’s. It was a mistake due to inexperience.»

«You make me feel better when you talk that way,» she said. «You’re not as ruthless as you’re said to be. Just the same, I am many years younger than Aileen, and I have the feeling that without my looks my mind might not be very important to you.»

Cowperwood smiled. «Quite true. I have no excuses to offer for the way I am,» he said. «Intelligently or unintelligently, I try to follow the line of self-interest, because, as I see it, there is no other guide. Maybe I am wrong, but I think most of us do that. It may be that there are other interests that come before those of the individual, but in favoring himself, he appears, as a rule, to favor others.»

«I agree, somehow, with your point of view,» commented Berenice.

«The one thing I am trying to make clear to you,» went on Cowperwood, smiling affectionately at her, «is that I am not seeking to belittle or underestimate any hurt I may have inflicted. Pain seems to go with life and change. I just want to state my case as I see it, so that you may understand me.»

«Thanks,» and Berenice laughed lightly, «but you needn’t feel you are on the witness stand.»

«Well, almost. But please let me explain a little about Aileen. Her nature is one of love and emotion, but her intellect is not, and never was, sufficient for my needs. I understand her thoroughly, and I am grateful for all she did for me in Philadelphia. She stood by me, to her own social detriment. Because of that I have stood by her, even though I cannot possibly love her as I once did. She has my name, my residence. She feels she should have both.» He paused, a little dubious as to what Berenice would say. «You understand, of course?» he asked.

«Yes, yes,» exclaimed Berenice, «of course, I understand. And, please, I do not want to disturb her in any way. I did not come to you with that in view.»

«You’re very generous, Bevy, but unfair to yourself,» said Cowperwood. «But I want you to know how much you mean to my entire future. You may not understand, but I acknowledge it here and now. I have not followed you for eight years for nothing. It means that I care, and care deeply.»

«I know,» she said, softly, not a little impressed by this declaration.

«For all of eight years,» he continued, «I have had an ideal. That ideal is you.»

He paused, wishing to embrace her, but feeling for the moment that he should not. Then, reaching into a waistcoat pocket, he took from it a thin gold locket, the size of a silver dollar, which he opened and handed to her. One interior face of it was lined with a photograph of Berenice as a girl of twelve, thin, delicate, supercilious, self-contained, distant, as she was to this hour.

She looked at it and recognized it as a photograph that had been taken when she and her mother were still in Louisville, her mother a woman of social position and means. How different the situation now, and how much she had suffered because of that change! She gazed at it, recalling pleasant memories.

«Where did you get this?» she asked at last.

«I took it from your mother’s bureau in Louisville, the first time I saw it. It was not in this case, though; I have added that.»

He closed it affectionately and returned it to his pocket. «It has been close to me ever since,» he said.

Berenice smiled. «I hope, unseen. But I am such a child there.»

«Just the same, an ideal to me. And more so now than ever. I have known many women, of course. I have dealt with them according to my light and urge at the time. But apart from all that, I have always had a certain conception of what I really desired. I have always dreamed of a strong, sensitive, poetic girl like yourself. Think what you will about me, but judge me now by what I do, not by what I say. You said you came because you thought I needed you. I do.»

She laid her hand on his arm. «I have decided,» she said, calmly. «The best I can do with my life is to help you. But we… I… neither of us can do just as we please. You know that.»

«Perfectly. I want you to be happy with me, and I want to be happy with you. And, of course, I can’t be if you are going to worry over anything. Here in Chicago, particularly at this time, I have to be most careful, and so do you. And that’s why you’re going back to your hotel very shortly. But tomorrow is another day, and at about eleven, I hope you will telephone me. Then perhaps we can talk this over. But wait a moment.» He took her arm and directed her into his bedroom. Closing the door, he walked briskly to a handsome wrought-iron chest of considerable size which stood in a corner of the room. Unlocking it, he lifted from it three trays containing a collection of ancient Greek and Phoenician rings. After setting them in order before her, he said:

«With which of these would you like me to pledge you?»

Indulgently, and a little indifferently, as was her way — always the one to be pleaded with, not the one to plead — Berenice studied and toyed with the rings, occasionally exclaiming over one that interested her. At last, she said:

«Circe might have chosen this twisted silver snake. And Helen, this green bronze circlet of flowers, perhaps. I think Aphrodite might have liked this curled arm and hand encircling the stone. But I will not choose for beauty alone. For myself, I will take this tarnished silver band. It has strength as well as beauty.»

«Always the unexpected, the original!» exclaimed Cowperwood. «Bevy, you are incomparable!» He kissed her tenderly as he placed the ring on her finger.

Chapter 2

The essential thing which Berenice achieved for Cowperwood in coming to him at the time of his defeat was to renew his faith in the unexpected and, better yet, in his own luck. For hers was an individuality, as he saw it, self-seeking, poised, ironic, but less brutal and more poetic than his own. Where he desired money in order to release its essential content, power, to be used by him as he pleased, Berenice appeared to demand the privilege of expressing her decidedly varied temperament in ways which would make for beauty and so satisfy her essentially aesthetic ideals. She desired not so much to express herself in a given form of art as to live so that her life as well as her personality should be in itself an art form. She had more than once thought, if only she had great wealth, very great power, how creatively she would use it. She would never waste it on great houses and lands and show, but rather surround herself with an atmosphere which should be exquisite and, of course, inspirational.

Yet of that she had never spoken. Rather, it was implicit in her nature, which Cowperwood by no means always clearly interpreted. He realized that she was delicate, sensitive, evasive, elusive, mysterious. And, for these reasons, he was never tired of contemplating her, any more than he was of contemplating nature itself: the new day, the strange wind, the changing scene. What would the morrow be like? What would Berenice be like when next he saw her? He could not tell. And Berenice, conscious of this strangeness in herself, could not enlighten him or any other. She was as she was. Let Cowperwood, or any, take her so.

In addition to all this, she was, he saw, an aristocrat. In her quiet and self-confident way, she commanded respect and attention from all who came in contact with her. They could not evade it. And Cowperwood, recognizing this superior phase of her as the one thing he had always, if almost subconsciously, admired and desired in a woman, was deeply gratified as well as impressed. She was young, beautiful, wise, poised — a lady. He had sensed it even in the photograph of the twelve-year-old girl in Louisville eight years before.

But now that Berenice had come to him at last, there was one thing that was troubling him. That was his enthusiastic and, at the moment, quite sincere suggestion of absolute and single devotion to her. Did he really mean that? After his first marriage, particularly after the experience of children and the quite sober and humdrum nature of his domestic life, he had fully realized that the ordinary tenets of love and marriage were not for him. This was proved by his intrigue with the young and beautiful Aileen, whose sacrifice and devotion he subsequently rewarded by marrying her. Yet that was as much an act of equity as of affection. And subsequent to that, he considered himself wholly liberated, sensually as well as emotionally.

He had no desire to attempt, much less achieve, a sense of permanency. Nonetheless, he had for eight years been pursuing Berenice. And now he was wondering how he should present himself honestly to her. She was, as he knew, so extremely intelligent and intuitive. Lies sufficient to placate, if not really deceive, the average woman, would not advantage him much with her.

And worse, at this time, in Dresden, Germany, there was a certain Arlette Wayne. Only a year ago he had entered on the affair with her. Arlette, previously immured in a small town in Iowa and anxious to extricate herself from a fate which threatened to smother her talent, had written Cowperwood, enclosing a picture of her siren self. But not receiving a reply, she had proceeded to borrow money and appear before him in person in his Chicago office. Where the picture had failed, the personality of Arlette had succeeded, for she was not only daring and self-confident, but possessed of a temperament with which Cowperwood was really in sympathy. Besides, her object was not purely mercenary. She was genuinely interested in music, and she had a voice. Of that he became convinced, and he desired to help her. She had also brought with her convincing evidence of her background: a picture of the little house in which she and her widowed mother, a local saleswoman, were living, and a quite moving story of her mother’s struggles to maintain them and further her ambition.

Naturally, the few hundred dollars which her aspirations required were as nothing to Cowperwood. Ambition in any form appealed to him, and now, moved by the girl herself, he proceeded to plan her future. For the time being, she was to have the best training Chicago could offer. Later, should she really prove worth while, he would send her abroad. However, so as not to commit or entangle himself in any way, he had specifically arranged a budget on which she was to live, and that budget was still in force. He had also advised her to bring her mother to Chicago to live with her. She therefore rented a small house, sent for her mother, and established herself, and in due course Cowperwood became a frequent visitor.

Yet because of her intellect and the sincerity of her ambition, their relationship had been based on mutual appreciation as well as affection. She had not been moved by any desire to compromise him in any way, and it had been only shortly before Berenice’s arrival in Chicago that he had persuaded Arlette to go to Dresden, for he had realized that he might not be a personal part of Chicago much longer. And had it not been for Berenice, he would have presently visited Arlette in Germany.

But now, as he compared her to Berenice, he felt no sensual pull in her direction, for in that way, as in all others, Berenice promised to absorb him completely. However, still interested in Arlette as an artistic temperament, and concerned to see her succeed, he intended continuing to aid her. Only, as he now felt, it might be best to drop her from his life completely. It would mean little to him. She had had her day. Best start on a new footing entirely. If Berenice was going to demand absolute romantic faithfulness on pain of separation, then he would do the best he could to conform to her desires. She was surely worthy of really important sacrifices on his part. And in that frame of mind, he was more inclined to dream and promise than at any time since his youth.

Chapter 3

The following morning, a little after ten o’clock, Berenice telephoned Cowperwood and they agreed to meet at his club for a talk.

As she entered by a private stairway to his apartment, she found him waiting to greet her. There were flowers in the living room and bedroom. But still so dubious was he as to the reality of this conquest that, as she came leisurely up the steps, looking at him and smiling, he scanned her face anxiously for any suggestion of change. But as she crossed the threshold and allowed him to seize her and hold her close, he felt reassured.

«So you came!» he said, gaily and warmly, at the same time pausing to survey her.

«Did you think I wouldn’t?» she asked, laughing at the expression on his face.

«Well, how was I to be sure?» he queried. «You never did anything I wanted you to do before.»

«True, but you know why. This is different.» She yielded her lips to his.

«If you only knew the effect your coming has had on me,» he went on, excitedly. «I haven’t slept a wink all night. And I feel as though I’d never need to sleep again… Pearly teeth… Slate blue eyes… rosy mouth…» he went on admiringly. And he kissed her eyes. «And this sunray hair.» He fingered it admiringly.

«The baby has a new toy!»

He was thrilled by her comprehending, yet sympathetic, smile, and bent and picked her up.

«Frank! Please! My hair… you’ll get me all mussed up!»

She protested laughingly as he carried her to the adjoining bedroom, which seemed to flicker with flame from the fireplace, and, and, because he insisted, she allowed him to undress her, amused at his impatience.

It was late in the afternoon before he was satisfied to «be sane and talk,» as she put it. They sat by a tea table before the fire. She insisted that she was anxious to remain in Chicago, so as to be with him as much and as long as possible, but they must arrange things so as not to attract attention. As to this, he agreed. His notoriety was then at its terrific peak, and, in consequence, particularly because Aileen was known to be living in New York, his appearance with anyone as attractive as herself would be the signal for a flood of comment. They would have to avoid being seen together.

For now, he added, this matter of franchise extension, or, rather, as it stood now, no franchise, did not mean a cessation of work any more than it meant that he was to lose his street railway properties. These had been built up over a period of years, and shares in them sold to thousands of investors, and they could not be taken from him or his investors without due process of law.

«What really has to be done, Bevy,» he said to her intimately, «is to find a financier, or a group of them, or a corporation, to take over these properties at a value that is fair to all. And that, of course, can’t be brought about in a minute. It may take years. As a matter of fact, I know that unless I step forward and personally request it as a favor to me, nobody is likely to come in here and offer to do anything. They know how difficult it is to manage street railways profitably. And then there are the courts, which will have to pass on all this, even if these enemies of mine, or any outside concerns, are willing to try and run these roads.»

He was sitting beside her, talking to her as though she were one of his fellow-investors or financial equals. And while she was not greatly interested in the practical details of his world of finance, she could sense how intense was his intellectual and practical interest in these things.

«Well, I know one thing,» she interpolated at this point, «and that is, you will never really be beaten. You are too wise and too clever.»

«Maybe,» he said, pleased by her tribute. «Anyhow, all that takes time. It may be years before these roads are taken off my hands. At the same time, a long delay of that kind might cripple me, in a way. Supposing I should want to do anything else; I should feel handicapped because of the responsibility here.» And for a moment, his large gray eyes stared into space.

«What I would prefer to do,» he mused, «now that I have you, would be to loaf and travel with you, for a time, anyhow. I’ve worked hard enough. You mean more than money to me, infinitely more. It’s odd, but I feel all at once as though I’ve worked too hard all my life.» He smiled and fondled her.

And Berenice, hearing him say these things, was suffused with pride and power, as well as real tenderness.

«That’s perfectly true, dear. You’ve been like some big engine or machine that’s tearing full speed somewhere, but doesn’t know exactly where.» She toyed with his hair and smoothed his cheek as she talked. «I’ve been thinking of your life, and all you’ve accomplished up to now. I think you should go abroad for a while, and look at things in Europe. I don’t see what else you could do here, unless you want to make more money, and Chicago certainly isn’t a very interesting place. I think it’s terrible.»

«Well, I wouldn’t say that, exactly,» returned Cowperwood, defensive for Chicago. «It has its points. I came here originally to make money, and certainly I have no complaint to make on that score.»

«Oh, I know that,» said Berenice, amused at his loyalty despite the bitterness and worry that his career here had involved. «But, Frank…» and here she paused, weighing her words most carefully, «you know, I think you’re so much bigger than that. I have always thought so. Don’t you think you ought to take a rest, look about and see the world, apart from business? You might find something you could do, some big public project that would bring you praise and fame, rather than money. There might be something you could undertake in England or France. I’d love to live in France with you. Why not go over there and give them something new? What about the traffic situation in London? Something like that! Anyway, leave America.»

He smiled at her approvingly.

«Well, Bevy,» he said, «it does seem a little unnatural to be indulging in a practical conversation like this with a pair of beautiful blue eyes and a sunburst of hair opposite me. But all that you say has the ring of wisdom. By the middle of next month, perhaps sooner, we are going abroad, you and I. And then I think I can find something to please you, for it hasn’t been more than a year since I was approached concerning a proposed tube system for London. At that time I was so busy here I didn’t have time for anything else. But now…» and he patted her hand.

Berenice smiled a satisfied smile.

It was dusk before she departed, discreet and reserved and smiling as she entered the carriage that Cowperwood had called.

A few moments later, it was a gay and much more vital Cowperwood who stepped forth, thinking how, the next day, he would arrange first with his lawyer for a conference with the mayor and certain city officials to determine on ways and means of divesting himself of his various and immense holdings. And after that… after that… well, there was Berenice, the one great dream of his life really come true. What of defeat? There was no defeat! It was love that made life, certainly not wealth alone.

Chapter 4

The proposition to which Cowperwood referred as having come from an English source some twelve months before had been brought to him by two adventuring Englishmen, Messrs. Philip Henshaw and Montague Greaves, who carried letters from several well-known bankers and brokers of London and New York, establishing them as contractors who had already built railroads, street railways, and manufacturing plants in England and elsewhere.

Some time before, in connection with the Traffic Electrical Company (an English company organized for the purpose of promoting railway enterprises), they personally had invested ten thousand pounds in a scheme to promote and construct an underground railway, to run from Charing Cross Station, the center of London, to Hampstead, four or five miles away and a growing residential district. It was a sine qua non of the scheme that the line in prospect was to afford direct means of communication between Charing Cross Station (the terminal of the Southeastern Railway which fed the south and southeast coasts of England and was one of the main arteries of travel to and from the Continent) and Euston Station, the terminal of the London and Northwestern Railway, serving the northwest and connecting with Scotland.

As they explained it to Cowperwood, the Traffic Electrical Company had a paid-up capital of £30,000. It had succeeded in getting through both houses of Parliament an «act» permitting them to build, operate, and own this particular tube or line; but in bringing this about, contrary to the general idea held by the English public in regard to its Parliament, a considerable sum of money had to be expended — not directly to any one group, but, as Messrs. Greaves and Henshaw hinted, and as Cowperwood, of all people, was fully capable of understanding, one must resort to many ways and means of currying favor with those who were in a better position to influence the minds of a committee than outsiders coming directly with a request for a valuable public privilege, especially when, as in England, it was granted in perpetuity. To that end, recourse had been had to a firm of solicitors: Rider, Bullock, Jonson & Chance, as clever, socially reputable, and technic ally well-informed a combination of legal talent as the great Empire’s capital could boast. This distinguished firm had innumerable connections with individual shareholders and chairmen of various enterprises. In fact, this firm had found persons whose influence had not only persuaded the committee of Parliament to grant the act for the Charing Cross and Hampstead, but also, once the act was in hand and the original thirty thousand pounds nearly gone, suggested Greaves and Henshaw, who, for a two-year option for the construction of the tubes, had, about a year before, paid down £10,000.

The provisions of the act were nominally stiff enough. It had required the Traffic Electrical Company to deposit exactly sixty thousand pounds in consols as security that the proposed work would be performed in accordance with provisions requiring partial or final completion of construction on or before certain dates. But, as these two promoters had explained to Cowperwood, a bank or financing group, for the usual brokerage rates, would be willing to maintain the required amount of consols in any designated depository, and the Parliamentary committee, again rightly approached, would doubtless extend the time limit for completion.

Nevertheless, after a year and a half of work on their part, although £40,000 had been paid in, and the £60,000 in consols deposited, still the money to build the tube (estimated at £1,600,000) had not been found. This sprang from the fact that although there was one quite modern tube already in fairly successful operation — the City and South London — there was nothing to show English capital that a new, and particularly a longer and so more expensive, tube would pay. The only other lines in operation were two semi-undergrounds or steam railways running through open cuts and tunnels — the District Railway, about five and one-half miles, and the Metropolitan Railway, not more than two miles, both by agreement having running power over each other’s rails. But the motive power being steam, the tunnels and cuts were dirty and often smoke-filled, and neither paid very well. And without any precedent to show how a line costing millions of pounds to build could be made to pay, English capital was not interested. Hence a search for money in other parts of the world, which had ended with the journey of Messrs. Henshaw and Greaves — via Berlin, Paris, Vienna, and New York — to Cowperwood.

Cowperwood, as he had explained to Berenice, had been so completely occupied with his Chicago troubles at the time that he had listened only casually to all that Messrs. Henshaw and Greaves had said. Now, however, since he had lost his franchise fight, and more particularly since Berenice had suggested his leaving America, he recalled their scheme. To be sure, it had appeared to be sinking under a load of expenditures such as no businessman of his experience would consider taking over; yet it might be well to look into this London tube situation with a view to doing something on a grand scale, and perhaps, in this instance, free from such trickery as he had been compelled to practice here in Chicago, and also without any undue profit-taking. He was already a multimillionaire, so why should he continue this money-grubbing to the day of his death?

Besides, his past being what it was, and his present activities so grossly and savagely distorted by the press and his enemies, how wonderful it would be to win an honest acclaim, particularly in London, where supposedly quite impeccable commercial standards prevailed. It would achieve for him a social standing such as he never could hope to reach in America.

The vision thrilled him. And it had come to him through Berenice, this chit of a girl. For it was her natural gift of knowing and understanding that had enabled her to sense this opportunity. It was amazing to think that all of this, this London idea, everything that could possibly derive from his association with her in the future, had sprung from that purely sporting venture of some nine years before, when, in company with Colonel Nathaniel Gilles, of Kentucky, he had gone to the home of the then déclassée Hattie Starr, mother of Berenice. Who was it said that good could not come out of evil?

Chapter 5

In the meantime, Berenice, now that the first excitement of her union with Cowperwood had worn off, took time to consider and weigh the stumbling blocks and dangers that beset her. Fully aware of these when she had finally decided to go to Cowperwood, nevertheless she now felt that she must face them squarely and unflinchingly, and without loss of any more time.

First, there was Aileen, a jealous, emotional wife, who would certainly use any means at her disposal to destroy her if ever she felt that Cowperwood loved her. Next, the newspapers. They would certainly publicize her connection with him, if they were seen together in any conspicuous way. And then there was her mother, to whom she would have to explain this latest move of hers; and her brother Rolfe, for whom she now hoped to secure some means of livelihood through Cowperwood.

All these things meant that she would have to be consistently and firmly cautious, wily, diplomatic, courageous, and willing to make certain sacrifices and compromises.

At the same time, Cowperwood was thinking much along the same lines. Since Berenice was to be the principal force in his life from now on, he was extremely conscious of her welfare and her prospective movements in connection with himself. Also, the London idea was growing in his mind. Accordingly, on the following day when they met, he began at once discussing seriously all phases of their problems.

«You know, Bevy,» he said. «I have been thinking of your London idea, and it appeals to me very much; it has interesting possibilities.» And from there on he recounted just what he had in mind, and gave her a history of the two men who had called on him.

«The thing for me to do now,» he continued, after his explanation, «is to send someone to London to see whether that offer they made us still holds good. If it does, it may open the door to what you are thinking of.» He smiled affectionately on Berenice as the author of all this. «On the other hand, the thing that stands in our way, as I see it now, is the matter of publicity and what Aileen is likely to do. She is very romantic and emotional; she functions through her emotions rather than through her mind. I have tried for years to make her understand how it is with me, how a man may change without really wanting to. But she cannot see that. She thinks people change deliberately.» He paused and smiled. «She’s the kind of woman who is naturally and entirely faithful in her heart, a one-man woman.»

«And you resent that?» inquired Berenice.

«On the contrary, I think it beautiful. The only trouble is that up to now I haven’t been that way.»

«And will not be, I’m thinking,» Berenice twitted him.

«Silence!» he pleaded. «No arguments! Let me finish, dear. She cannot see why, because I loved her so much at one time, I should not continue to do so. In fact, her sorrow has now turned into something like hatred, I’m afraid, or she tries to make herself think that it has. The worst part of it is that it’s all tied up with her pride in being my wife. She wanted to shine socially, and I wished her to at first because I had the notion that it would be best for both of us. But I soon learned that Aileen was not clever enough. I gave up the idea of trying in Chicago. New York, I thought, was much more important, the real city for a man of wealth. And so I decided to try there. I was beginning to think I might not always want to live with Aileen, but, if you will believe it, that was after I saw your picture in Louisville — the one I have in my pocket. It was only after that that I decided to build the house in New York, and make it into an art gallery as well as a residence. And then, eventually, if you ever became interested in me…»

«And so the great house that I am never to occupy was built for me,» mused Berenice. «How strange!»

«Life is like that,» said Cowperwood. «But we can be happy.»

«I know that,» she said. «I was merely thinking of the strangeness of it. And I wouldn’t disturb Aileen for anything.»

«You are both liberal and wise, I know. You will perhaps manage things better than I could.»

«I believe I can manage,» returned Berenice calmly.

«But besides Aileen, there are the newspapers. They follow me everywhere. And once they hear of this London idea, assuming that I undertake it, there’ll be fireworks! And if ever your name becomes connected with mine, you’ll be pursued as a chicken is by hawks. One solution might be for me to adopt you, or maybe carry this idea of my being your guardian on into England. That would give me the right to be with you and to pretend to be looking after your property. What do you think?»

«Well, yes,» she said slowly. «I can’t see any other way. But that London matter will have to be thought out very carefully. And I am not thinking of myself alone.»

«I’m sure of it,» replied Cowperwood, «but with a little luck, we should get by. One of the things we must do is to avoid being seen together too much, I suppose. But first of all, we must think of a way to distract the attention of Aileen. For, of course, she knows all about you. Because of my contact with you and your mother in New York, she has suspected for a long time that there was an intrigue between us. I was never in a position to tell you that; you didn’t seem to like me well enough.»

«Didn’t really know you well enough,» corrected Berenice. «You were too much of an enigma.»

«And now …?»

«Just as much so as ever, I fear.»

«I doubt that. In regard to Aileen, though, I have no solution. She is so suspicious. As long as I am here in this country, and appear in New York occasionally, she doesn’t seem to mind. But if I left, and appeared to be settling in London, and the newspapers discussed it…» he paused, meditating.

«You’re afraid she will talk, or follow you and make a scene — something of that sort?»

«It’s hard to say what she might or might not do. With a little diversion of some sort, she might not do anything. On the other hand, and particularly since she’s taken to drinking in the last few years, she might do anything. Several years ago, in one of her brooding fits, and when she was drinking, she tried to kill herself.» (Berenice frowned.) «I prevented that by breaking in and talking rather forcibly to her.» He described the scene, but did not picture himself as uncompromising as he had been.

Berenice listened, convinced at last of Aileen’s undying love, and feeling that now she was adding one more thorn to her inescapable crown. Only, as she reasoned, nothing that she could do would change Cowperwood. As for herself, and her desire for some sort of revenge on society… well, she cared for him, too. She really did. He was like a strong drug. His mental as well as his physical charm was enormous, really irresistible. The important thing was to achieve this constructive relationship without doing any additional harm to Aileen.

She paused, thinking, and then said: «It is a real problem, isn’t it? But we have a little time to consider it. Let it go for a day or two. She is certainly on my mind, all of the time…» She looked at Cowperwood, wide-eyed, thoughtfully and affectionately, a faint and yet cheering smile playing about her mouth. «Together we’ll manage, I know.»

She rose from her chair by the fire, walked over to sit on his lap, began to rumple his hair.

«All problems are not financial, are they?» she said, quizzically, touching his forehead with her lips.

«They certainly are not,» he replied lightly, cheered by her affectionate sympathy and encouragement.

And then, for diversion, he suggested that since there had been a heavy snowfall the previous day, a sleigh ride would be a delightful way to end the day. He knew of a charming inn on the North Shore, where they might have dinner beside the lake under a winter moon.

Returning late that night, Berenice sat alone in her room before the fire, thinking and planning. She had already telegraphed her mother to come to Chicago at once. She would have her go to a certain North Side hotel and register for both of them. With her mother there, she could outline the course which she and Cowperwood had in mind.

What troubled her most, however, was Aileen, alone in that great house in New York, with youth, if not beauty, gone forever, and recently, as Berenice had noticed, suffering the handicap of too much flesh, which apparently she had not troubled to overcome. Her clothes, too, ran more to richness and show than to real taste. Years, physical appearance, and lack of a gifted mentality: all of them made it impossible for Aileen to contend against one like Berenice. But never, as she told herself, would she be cruel, however vengeful Aileen might be. Rather, she proposed to be as generous as possible, and also she would not countenance the least cruelty or even thoughtlessness on Cowperwood’s part, if she could detect it in time. Actually, she felt sorry for Aileen, very sorry, realizing how she must be feeling in her torn and discarded heart, for already, as young as she was, she herself had suffered, and her mother also. Their wounds were still all too fresh.

Hence, the thing to do, as she now decided, was to play as subdued and inconspicuous a role as possible in Cowperwood’s life, going about with him, true enough, since that was his greatest desire and need, but without being identified too clearly. If only there were some way of diverting Aileen’s mind from her present ills, and so keep her from hating Cowperwood, and, once she knew all, Berenice herself.

At first she thought of religion, or rather, wondered if there were not a priest or minister whose religious counsel might be of benefit to Aileen. There were always such well-disposed, if politic, souls, who for a bequest, or the hope of it, at her death, might gladly minister to her. Back in New York, as she recalled, was such a person: the Reverend Willis Steele, Rector of St. Swithin’s of the Episcopal Diocese of New York. She had occasionally visited his church, more to dream over the simple architecture and agreeable service than to plead with God. The Reverend Willis was middle-aged, airy, bland, attractive, but without much money, although possessed of a high degree of social polish. She recalled him as once having approached her, but further thought of him only caused her to smile, and she dismissed the idea. But surely Aileen needed to be looked after by someone.

Suddenly she bethought herself at this point of one of those affable social ne’er-do-wells so common in New York society, who, for enough cash or entertainment, might be relied upon to create a fairly gay, if not exactly conventional, social scene about Aileen, and thus divert her, for the time being, anyhow. But how to go about reaching and influencing such a person to that end?

Berenice decided that this idea was really too shrewd and too cunning to come from her as a suggestion to Cowperwood. She did feel, however, that it was too valuable to be neglected. Her mother, perhaps, might throw out the hint to him. Once the bare thought of it was flicked before him, he could be counted on to react in a practical manner.

Chapter 6

Henry de Sota Sippens was the man whom Cowperwood thought of at once to send to London to spy out the physical aspects and financial possibilities of the London underground system.

Years before, he had discovered Sippens, who had been invaluable in the negotiations to secure the contract for Chicago gas. And with the money made from that venture, Cowperwood had invaded the Chicago street railway field, and had included Sippens, because, as he had learned, the man had a genuine talent for spying out and aiding in the development of any public utility or service. He was inclined to be nervous and irritable, easily set jangling, therefore not always diplomatic; but on the other hand, he was wholly loyal, though possessed of an uncompromising midwestern «Americanism» which often proved as irritating as it was valuable.

In the opinion of Sippens, at the present moment, Cowperwood had received an almost fatal body blow in the defeat in connection with his local franchises. He could not see how the man could ever restore himself with the local financiers who had invested with him and were now likely to lose some of their money. Since the night of the defeat, Sippens had been nervous about meeting him again. What was he to say? How sympathize with a man who up to a week ago had been one of the world’s seemingly unconquerable financial giants?

Yet now, only the third day after that defeat, there came to Sippens a telegram from one of Cowperwood’s secretaries requesting him to call on his former employer. Meeting him and finding him cheerful, sparkling, vibrating with good humor, Sippens could scarcely believe his eyes.

«Well, how’s the Chief? I’m glad to see you looking so well.»

«I never felt better, De Sota. And how are you? Ready for any fate?»

«Well, you ought to know, Chief. I’ve been standing by. It’s whatever you say with me.»

«I know that, De Sota,» replied Cowperwood, smiling. For in truth, because of his compensating success with Berenice, he was feeling that the greatest pages of his life’s history were about to be opened and written upon, and he felt not only hopeful but kindly toward all. «I have something I want you to undertake for me. I sent for you, De Sota, because I need reliability and secrecy, and I know you’re the man!»

And for the moment his lips stiffened, and his eyes took on that hard, fixed, metallic, inscrutable luster which those who mistrusted and feared him hated. Sippens threw out his chest and chin and stood at attention. He was a little man, not more than five feet four, but heightened by high-heeled shoes and a top hat that he never doffed to anyone but Cowperwood. He wore a long double-breasted and skirted coat, which he thought gave him height and dignity.

«Thanks, Chief,» he said, «you know I’d go to hell for you any time.» His lips almost trembled, so wrought-up was he, not only by Cowperwood’s combined faith and flattery but by all that he had been compelled to endure during the past few months as well as throughout the years of their association.

«But it’s nothing like going through hell this time, De Sota,» said Cowperwood, relaxing and smiling. «We’ve just done that here in Chicago, and we won’t have to do it again. And I’m going to show you why. What I want to talk to you about now, De Sota, is London and its underground system, and the possibility of my doing something over there.»

And here he paused and motioned blandly and easily to Sippens to take the chair closest to him, while Sippens, thoroughly aroused by the bare possibilities of something so different and interesting, fairly gasped.

«London! You don’t say, Chief. Great! I knew you’d do something, Chief! I knew it! Oh, I can’t tell you how this makes me feel, Chief!» As he spoke, his face brightened as with a light turned on within, and his fingers twitched. He half rose and then sat down again, a sure sign of excitement within him. He pulled at his fierce and rather top-heavy mustache, while he contemplated Cowperwood with brooding and wholly reassured admiration.

«Thanks, De Sota,» commented Cowperwood at this point. «I thought it might interest you.»

«Interest me, Chief!» returned Sippens, excitedly. «Why, Chief, you’re one of the wonders of the world! Why, here you are, scarcely through with these Chicago bastards and you’re ready to tackle a thing like this! It’s marvelous! I always knew no one could put you down, but after this last thing, I confess I was prepared to see you sag a little. But not you, Chief! It just isn’t in you to wilt. You’re too big, that’s all. I’d break under a thing like that myself. I know I would. I’d quit, I admit it. But not you! Well, all I want to know is what you want me to do, Chief, and I’ll do it! And no one will know a thing, if that’s what you want, Chief.»

«Well, that’s one of the things, De Sota,» said Cowperwood. «Secrecy and that good hard-boiled traction sense of yours! It’ll come in handy in connection with this idea of mine, if I go through with it. And neither one of us is going to be any the worse off for it, either.»

«Don’t mention it, Chief, don’t mention it,» went on De Sota, tense almost to the breaking point. «I’ve had enough out of you if I never get another cent between now and the time we pass out. Just you tell me what you want and I’ll do it to the best of my ability, or I’ll come back and tell you that I can’t do it.»

«You never told me that yet, De Sota, and I don’t believe you ever will. But here it is, in a nutshell. About a year ago, when we were all busy with this extension business here, there were two Englishmen here from London, representing a London syndicate of some kind. I’ll give you the details later, but this is a rough idea…»

And he outlined all that Greaves and Henshaw had said to him, concluding with the thought which was in his own mind at the time.

«It’s all too top-heavy with money already expended, as you see, De Sota. Nearly $500,000 and nothing to show for it except that act or franchise for a line four or five miles long. And that has to be connected in some way by track rights over these two other systems before it can really come to anything. They admitted that themselves. But what I’m interested in now, De Sota, is to find out not only all about this whole London underground system as it stands now, but the possibility of a much bigger system, if such a thing is possible. You know what I mean, of course — with lines that would pay, say, if pushed into territories not yet reached by any other. You understand?»

«Perfectly, Chief!»

«Besides that,» he went on, «I want maps of the general layout and character of the city, its traction lines, surface or underground, where they start from and where they end, together with the geological formation, if we can find that out. Also the neighborhoods or districts they reach, the sort of people living in them now or who are likely to live there. You understand?»

«Perfectly, Chief, perfectly!»

«Then, too, I want to know all about the franchises covering those lines as they exist now — those acts, I believe they call them — their duration, the length of the lines, who owns them, their biggest stockholders, how they’re operated, how much their shares pay — everything, in fact, that you can find out without attracting too much attention to yourself, and certainly no attention to me. You understand that, of course, and why?»

«Perfectly, Chief, perfectly!»

«Then, De Sota, I’d like to know all about wages, as well as operational costs, in connection with the existing lines.»

«Right, Chief,» echoed Sippens, already in his own mind planning his work.

«Then there’s the matter of digging and equipment costs, the losses and new costs in connection with changing lines which are now in existence from steam — which is what I understand they use over there — to electricity, the new third-rail idea they’re talking about using in New York in that new subway. You know, the English do differently and feel differently about these things, and I want all you can tell me about that. Lastly, maybe you can find out something about the land values that are likely to be made by what we do, and whether it might be worth while to buy in advance in any direction, as we have done here in Lakeview and other places. You remember?»

«Certainly, Chief, certainly,» replied Sippens. «I understand everything, and I’ll get you everything you want, and maybe more. Why, this thing’s wonderful! And I can’t tell you how proud and happy I am that you’ve called on me to do it. When do you suppose you’ll be wanting me to go?»

«At once,» replied Cowperwood; «that is, just as soon as you can arrange your affairs in connection with your present work out there in the suburbs.» He was referring to his rural Union Traction system, of which Sippens was then president. «Better have Kitteredge take over, and you give it out that you’re going to take the winter off somewhere: England, or the Continent. If you can keep any mention of your presence out of the papers, so much the better. If you can’t, make it look as though you were interested in anything but traction. And if you hear of any railroad men over there who appear to be alive and who would be good to take over along with such lines as they are connected with, let me know of them. For, of course, this is going to have to be an English, not an American, enterprise from start to finish, De Sota, if we take it over. You know that. These English don’t like Americans, and I don’t want any anti-American war.»

«Right, Chief, I understand. All I ask, though, is that if I can be useful to you anywhere over there afterward, I hope you’ll keep me in mind. I’ve worked with you so long, Chief, and so close, it would be hard on me if after all this time…» he paused and stared at Cowperwood almost pleadingly, and Cowperwood returned his look blandly but at the same time inscrutably.

«That’s right, that’s right, De Sota. I know, and I understand. When the time comes, I’ll do whatever I can. I won’t forget you.»

Chapter 7

Having instructed Sippens as to his duties and also ascertained that insofar as Chicago was concerned he would have to go east to consult with certain financiers if he were to extract any immediate sums from his holdings, Cowperwood’s mind naturally reverted to Berenice and the matter of traveling and living in such a way as to attract as little attention as possible.

Of course it was all so much clearer in his own mind than in that of Berenice — the long chain of facts and association connecting him with Aileen and with no one else so intimately. It was something which Berenice could not fully realize, particularly because of his ardent pursuit of her. But he himself was compelled to doubt the wisdom of any action in regard to Aileen other than something decidedly diplomatic and placative. It would be too great a risk, particularly if London were invaded, and so soon after this hue and cry in connection with his corporations and his social methods in Chicago. He had been accused of bribery and anti-social methods in general. And now to provoke public complaints as well as possibly some form of public action on the part of Aileen — tips to the newspapers about his relationship with Berenice — that would never do.

And then there was another problem, quite capable of causing trouble between himself and Berenice. And that was his relationship with other women. Several of these affairs were by no means closed. Arlette Wayne was temporarily disposed of, and there were others which had no more than a casual life, but there was still Caroline Hand, the wife of Hosmer Hand, wealthy Chicago investor in railways and packing houses. Caroline had been a mere girl-wife when Cowperwood first met her. She had since been divorced by Hand because of him, but with a handsome settlement. And she was still devoted to Cowperwood. He had given her a house in Chicago, and throughout the Chicago fight he had spent quite a lot of time in her company, for he had become convinced that Berenice would never come to him.

And now Caroline was thinking of going to New York in order to be near him when he finally decided to leave Chicago. She was a clever woman, not jealous — or openly so, at least — beautiful, though a bit unconventional in her style of dress, and witty to a degree which unvariably succeeded in diverting him. She was now thirty, but looked twenty-five, and retained to the full the spirit of twenty. Up to the very hour of Berenice’s arrival, and since — although Berenice did not know of this — Caroline Hand kept open house for Cowperwood, inviting whomsoever he wished to receive there. It was her establishment on the North Side to which the Chicago newspapers had referred in their bitterest attacks on him. She always protested that when he no longer cared for her, he should say so and she would not seek to hold him.

Considering the case of Caroline, he pondered over the idea of taking her at her word, explaining as she had suggested, and then departing. Nevertheless, much as he cared for Berenice, that seemed a little unnecessary. He might be able to explain to both of them. At any rate, nothing should be allowed to mar his relationship with Berenice, to whom he promised to be as faithful as it was possible for him to be.

But his mind returned continually to the problem presented by Aileen. He could not avoid recalling the various happenings that had drawn them together. That first intense and dramatic fever that had bound her to him in Philadelphia, and which had contributed to, if it had not wholly brought about, his first financial ruin! The gay, unreasoning, emotional Aileen of those days, giving all of herself so feverishly and expecting in return that perfect security which love, in all its destructive history, had never yielded to anyone! And even now, after all these years, after what liaisons in his life and hers, she had not changed, she still loved him.

«You know, dear,» he said to Berenice, «I feel really sorry for Aileen. There she is, in that big house in New York, without any connections that are worth while, sought after by a lot of bounders who do nothing but persuade her to drink and carouse and then try to get money from her to pay the bills. I know that from the servants, who are still loyal to me.»

«It certainly is pathetic,» commented Berenice, «but understandable, too.»

«I don’t want to be hard on her,» continued Cowperwood. «As a matter of fact, I take all the blame. What I’d like to do would be to find some attractive fellow in New York society, or on the edge of it, who, for a given sum of money, would undertake the job of socially managing and entertaining her. I don’t mean that too literally, of course.» And here he smiled ruefully at Berenice.

But she pretended to take no notice of it, unless a blank and brief stare, coupled with faint twitchings at the corners of her mouth, could be construed to convey the sense of satisfaction with which she received the news that he was so much in accord with her own idea.

«I’m sure I don’t know,» she said, cautiously. «Maybe there are such people.»

«There must be scores of them,» said Cowperwood, practically. «Of course, he’d have to be an American. Aileen doesn’t like foreigners, male foreigners, I mean. But one thing is sure, this problem should be settled soon if we’re going to have any peace and be able to move about freely.»

«I think I know of a man who might do,» interjected Berenice, thoughtfully. «His name is Bruce Tollifer. Of the Virginia and South Carolina Tollifers. Perhaps you know him.»

«No. Is he anything like the type I have in mind?»

«Well, he’s young, and very good-looking, if that’s what you mean,» went on Berenice. «I don’t know him personally. The only time I ever saw him was at the Dania Moores, in New Jersey, at the tennis matches. Edgar Boncille was telling me that day what a sponger the fellow was, and how he made his living out of rich women, Mrs. Dania Moore, for one.» Here she laughed, and added: «I think Edgar was a little afraid I might become interested in him, and I did like his looks.» She smiled elusively, as though she knew scarcely anything about this person.

«Sounds interesting,» said Cowperwood. «No doubt, he’s pretty well known around New York.»

«Yes. I remember Edgar said he played around Wall Street. Wasn’t really in it; just pretense for the sake of impressing people.»

«Indeed!» said Cowperwood, looking quite pleased. «Well, I dare say I’d have no trouble locating him, although there are plenty of his type. I’ve met quite a few in my time.»

«It’s a little shameful, I feel,» mused Berenice. «I wish we needn’t talk of it. And I think you should make sure that Aileen doesn’t get into any trouble through anyone you decide to use in this way.»

«I mean only the best for her in every sense, Bevy. You must know that. I simply would like to find someone who could do some of the things for her that neither she nor I, singly or together, could achieve.» And here he paused and gazed speculatively at Berenice, and she a little darkly and ruefully at him. «I want someone who can be of service to her in the way of entertainment, and I am willing to pay for it, and pay well.»

«Well, we’ll see,» said Berenice, and then, as if wishing to change an unpleasant subject: «I’m expecting Mother around one o’clock tomorrow. I have arranged for rooms at the Brandingham. But now I want to ask you about Rolfe.»

«What about him?»

«Oh, he’s so impractical. He’s never had any training. I wish I could find something for him to do.»

«Well, don’t worry about it. I’ll have one of my men here take care of him. He can come out here as secretary to one of them. I’ll have Kitteredge write him.»

Berenice looked at him, not a little affected by the ease with which he solved everything, and by his generosity to her.

«I want you to know that I’m not ungrateful, Frank. You’re so good to me.»

Chapter 8

At the very time Berenice was speaking of him, Bruce Tollifer, the handsome ne’er-do-well was resting his considerably abused body, as well as his varied and colorful mind, in one of the lesser bedrooms of Mrs. Selma Hall’s rooming house on East Fifty-third Street, a once semi-fashionable but now rather déclassé New York «brownstone front» neighborhood. In his mouth was a sickly taste, the aftermath of late hours the night before; but at his elbow, just the same on a rather time-eaten taboret, were a bottle of whiskey, a siphon of seltzer, and cigarettes. And lying at his side, in the folding wall-bed, was a decidedly attractive young actress, whose salary, room, and other possessions he shared.

Both were half-dozing at a little before eleven in the morning. But a few moments later Rosalie Harrigan opened her eyes, and surveying the none too attractive room, with its wallpaper once cream-colored but now a faded brown, its low, triple-mirrored dressing table, and chest of drawers, decided that she must get up and remove the unsightly array of clothing strewn around the room. There was also an improvised kitchen and bathroom, and just to the right of the taboret was a writing table upon which Rosalie served such meals as were eaten in the apartment.

Even en déshabillé, Rosalie was an enticing creature. Curly, tousled black hair, a small white face, with small, searching black eyes, red lips, a slightly turned-up nose, a figure gracefully and sensually rounded, all combined to hold, for a time, anyhow, the rakish, restless, handsome Tollifer. She was also thinking that she would mix a drink for Tollifer and hand him a cigarette. Then, if he were interested, she would make some coffee and boil a couple of eggs. Or if he chose not to stir or pay any attention to her, she would dress and leave for rehearsal, which was called for twelve o’clock, and then return to his side to await his eventual wakefulness. For Rosalie was in love.

Essentially a squire of dames, Tollifer was never more than lukewarm in return for all such favors. For why should he be? A Tollifer, of the Virginia and South Carolina Tollifers! He was entitled to go with the best people anywhere! The one trouble was that except for Rosalie or any girl of her type, he was usually without a dime, and worse, drunk and in debt. Nevertheless and notwithstanding, he was a magnet where women were concerned. However, after some twenty-odd years of trifling, he had failed to make an important social connection with any of them, and so was now inclined to be brief, sarcastic, and dictatorial with anyone he might choose to favor.

Tollifer was of a good southern family, one that had once been wealthy and socially prominent. In Charleston, at that very time, was still standing an old and charming residence in which was housed what was left of a branch of the family that had endured since before the Civil War. In their possession were thousands of dollars’ worth of Confederate bonds made worthless by the outcome of that conflict. And in the Army at this time was a brother, Captain Wexford Tollifer, no less, who considered Bruce a waster and a social loafer.

And in San Antonio, Texas, was another brother, a successful rancher, who had gone west, married, had children, and settled down, and now looked on Bruce’s ambitions in connection with New York society as the limit of folly. For if he were ever going to do anything — bag an heiress, for instance — why hadn’t he done so years before? True, his name had been in the papers from time to time, and once it had been rumored that he was about to marry a wealthy New York débutante. But that was ten years before, when he was twenty-eight, and nothing had come of it. Neither of his brothers nor any other relative had by now the least faith in him. He was through. Most of his one-time friends in New York society were inclined to agree. He was too much a victim of his desires. He had too little respect for his social worth or position. And so they had long since reached the point where they would lend him nothing more.

Yet there were still others, men and women, old and young, who, on meeting him occasionally when he was sober and perfectly groomed, could not help regretting that he had not married a fortune and so restored himself to the groups which he could so well adorn. His warm southern accent, when he chose to employ it, was so delightful, and his smile so winsome.

The present affair with Rosalie Harrigan was but eight weeks old, yet bidding fair not to endure much longer. She was merely a chorus girl, earning thirty-five dollars a week. She was gay and sweet and affectionate, but, as he felt, not forceful enough to get anywhere. It was her body, her lust, and her love that held him for the time being.

And now, on this particular morning, Rosalie surveyed his ruffled black hair and his finely modeled mouth and chin with a delight that was wholly pathetic, since it was tinged by the all too desperate fear that he would be taken from her by another. It might be, as she well knew, that he would awaken with growls and savage oaths and orders. Just the same, she wished that she might remain with him for hours, if only to touch his hair.

On the other hand, the mind of Tollifer, half in dreams and half in wakefulness, was contemplating the ills with which his daily life was streaked. For at present, other than the money he took from Rosalie, he had nothing. And now his interest in her was already dulled. If only he could find a woman of wealth, with whom he might splurge financially, even marry, and so show a lot of these local upstarts who now looked down on him what it meant to be a Tollifer, and a rich Tollifer!

Soon after he had come to New York, he had attempted to elope with a lovesick heiress, but her parents had spirited her abroad. And he found himself denounced in the public press as a fortune-hunter, one who should and would be guarded against by all respectable families of wealth who wished their daughters to marry happily and well. And that failure, or mistake, along with drink, lust, gambling, had closed to him for all of these years the doors he wished to enter.

On fully awakening this morning, and while dressing, he began growling at Rosalie about a party of the night before into which she had inveigled him, and at which he had become intoxicated and belittled and ridiculed those around him until they were heartily glad to be rid of him.

«Such people! Such bounders!» he cried. «Why didn’t you tell me those newspapermen were going to be there? Actors are bad enough, God knows, but those newspaper snoops, and those publicity hounds who came with your actress friends! Bah!»

«But I didn’t know they were coming, Bruce,» pleaded Rosalie, who, pale and picturesque, was doing her best to toast a slice of bread over a gas jet. «I thought it was just for the stars of the show.»

«Stars! You call those people stars! If they’re stars, then I’m a whole sidereal system!» (A comparison entirely lost on Rosalie, who had no notion of what he was talking about.) «Those bums! You wouldn’t know a star from an oil lamp!»

Then he yawned, wondering how long before he would find nerve enough to brace up and quit this. How low was he going to fall? Sharing with girls who earned no more than enough for themselves, and then drinking and gambling with men with whom he couldn’t share and share alike!

«God, I can’t stand this!» he cried. «I’ll have to quit. I just can’t hang around here any longer. It’s too damned degrading!»

He walked the length of the room and back again, his hands thrust angrily into his pockets, while Rosalie stood silently near him. Fear would not permit her to speak.

«Well, do you hear me?» he demanded. «Are you going to stand there like a dummy? Oh, you women! You either fight like cats, or lie down and say nothing! God, if I could find one woman, just one, with a little sense in her nut, I’d… I’d…»

Rosalie looked up at him, her mouth twisted into a tortured smile. «Well, what would you do?» she said, quietly.

«I’d hang on to her! I might even love her! But, my God, what’s the use? Here I am, fiddling around in this hole, and accomplishing what? I belong to another world, and I’m going to get back into it! You and I are going to have to separate. It can’t be otherwise. I can’t go on like this a day longer!»

And so saying he went to the closet, and taking out his hat and overcoat, moved toward the door. Rosalie, however, edged in before him, throwing her arms around him and pressing her face to his. She was weeping.

«Oh, Bruce, oh, please! What have I done? Don’t you love me any more? Isn’t it enough that I’ll do anything you want? I don’t ask anything of you, do I? Please, Bruce, you won’t leave me, will you, Bruce?»

But Tollifer, pushing her aside, broke away.

«Don’t, Rosalie, don’t,» he went on. «I won’t stand for it! You can’t hold me this way. I’m getting out because I have to!»

He opened the door, but as he moved, Rosalie threw herself between him and the stairs.

«Oh, Bruce,» she cried, «for God’s sake, you can’t go! Listen, you can’t leave me this way! I’ll do anything, anything at all, I tell you! Oh, Bruce, I’ll get more money, I’ll get a better job. I know I can. We can move to another apartment. I’ll fix it all. Bruce, please sit down, and don’t carry on this way. I’ll kill myself if you leave me!»

But Tollifer was adamant by this time. «Oh, cut that, Rosie! Don’t be a damn fool! I know you’re not going to kill yourself, and you know it, too. Brace up! Just be calm, and I’ll see you tonight or tomorrow, maybe, but I’ve got to make a new deal, that’s all there is to it. Do you get that?»

Rosalie weakened under his gaze. She realized now that the inevitable was not to be avoided. She knew she could not hold him if he wished to go.

«Oh, Bruce,» she pleaded once more, pressing close to him. «I won’t let you go! I won’t! I won’t! You can’t go this way!»

«Can’t I?» he demanded. «Well, just watch me!» And he pulled her away from the door and went out, hurrying down the stairs. Rosalie, breathless and filled with terror, stood staring as the house door slammed, then turned wearily and re-entered the room, closing the door and leaning against it.

It was nearly time to go to rehearsal, but she shuddered as she thought of it. She didn’t care now. There was nothing… unless, maybe, he would come back… he would have to come back for his clothes…

Chapter 9

The thought which Tollifer was cherishing at this time was that he might get a job in a brokerage house or trust company dealing with the affairs, or, more particularly, the fortunes, of widows or daughters of men of wealth. His difficulty, however, was that he had passed out of the group of society handy men that flourished not only on the fringe, but in the very heart, of New York society of that day. Such men were not only useful, but at times absolutely essential, to those with money but no background who sought to enter society, as well as to passé débutantes who, because of encroaching years, wished to maintain a conspicuous place.

The qualifications were considerable, including the best American descent, appearance, social flair, and a sophisticated interest in yachting, racing, polo, tennis, riding, driving — especially the four-in-hand coach — the opera, the theater, the sporting ring. These men followed the wealthy to Paris, Biarritz, Monte Carlo, Nice, Switzerland, Newport, Palm Beach; the duck blinds of the south and the country clubs everywhere. In New York their principal haunts were the smart restaurants, the «Diamond Horseshoe» of the opera, and the theaters. It was necessary that they dress well and appropriately for any occasion; be of service and skill in obtaining the best seats for a horse show, a tennis match, a football game, or the current popular play. It helped if they were able to take a hand at cards and explain the finer points of the game, or, on occasion, give advice or make suggestions as to clothes, jewels, or the decoration of a room. But, above all, they must see that the names of their patrons appeared with comparative frequency in Town Topics or the newspaper society colums.

To work at this sort of thing continuously, however, meant that in some not too discreditable way, the handy man must be rewarded for the efforts, and sometimes sacrifices, he had to make, particularly the sacrifice of the zest and thrill which otherwise would come to him through his companionship with youth and beauty. For principally his attentions must be devoted to the middle-aged, those like Aileen, who feared the dreadful hour of social or emotional boredom.

Well, Tollifer had been through all that, years of it, and at about thirty-one or -two, had begun to tire of it. And, from sheer boredom and sometimes sickness of heart over the whole thing, he would disappear, to drink and amuse himself with a beauty of the stage world who had fire and love and devotion to offer him. Just the same, at this time he was once more entertaining the thought of visiting such restaurants, bars, hotels, and other places as were frequented by the people who could do him the most good. He was going to brace up, stay sober, get a little money from somewhere — from Rosalie, maybe — and with it make such a sartorial and financial display as would cause him to be looked upon again as a possibility in the social sense. And then… well, watch him this time!

Chapter 10

In New York at this time was Aileen racking her wearied and disillusioned wits as to how to make a life for herself. Although by now the Cowperwood mansion, as it was called, was one of the most ornate and beautiful houses in New York, still, for Aileen, it was but a hollow shell, an emotional as well as a social grave.

As she saw it now, she had greatly wronged Cowperwood’s first wife and their children. She did not know then what his wife would have to suffer. But she knew all its bitterness now. In spite of her sacrificial love, having given up home, friends, society, reputation, for Cowperwood, she was now in the depths of despair. Other women, ruthless, cruel, had attached themselves to him, not for love, but for his wealth and fame. He took them because of their youth and charm — which were in no way superior to her own of but a few years before. But she would never let him go! Never! Never should one of these women call herself Mrs. Frank Algernon Cowperwood! She had sealed that tie with a true love and a true marriage, and never should that be taken from her! He would not dare assail her in any open or legal way. The world, as well as she herself, knew too much, or she would see that it did, if ever he sought to displace her. She had never forgotten his open declaration of love for the young and beautiful Berenice Fleming. Where was she now? Possibly with him. But she could never have him legally. Never!

And yet, how lonely she was! This great house, these rooms with their floors of marble, their carved doors and ceilings, their painted and decorated walls! The servants, who might be spies, for all she knew! And so little to do, so few people to see, so few who wanted to see her! The occupants of those great houses that lined the Avenue not deigning to notice either herself or Cowperwood, for all of their wealth!

There were a few seeking admirers whom she tolerated, and one or two relatives, among them her two brothers, who lived in Philadelphia. They were wealthy and socially significant themselves, but because they were religious and conservative and their wives and children did not approve of her, she saw little of them. They came occasionally for lunch or dinner, or to stay the night when they were in New York, but always without their families. And it would be a long time before she would see them again. She knew how it was, and they did, too.

But as for life other than this, there was no one who meant anything to her. Actors and society wastrels, who occasionally sought her company, mainly to borrow money, yet really interested only in their younger friends. How could she, after Cowperwood, imagine herself the beloved of one of these petty pleasure-seekers. Desire, yes! But only after dreary and lagging hours of loneliness and torturing thoughts, turning to anyone, so long as there was physical attraction, a patter of words, and liquor! Oh, life, loneliness, age, its futility, and the flight of all that had been worth while!

What a mockery, this great house, with its galleries of paintings and sculpture and tapestries! For Cowperwood, her husband, so rarely came. And when he did come, always so cautious, though pretending affection before the servants. And they naturally subservient to him as her superior, as in truth he was because of his power to dispose of everything that was here maintained by him. And if she chose to scoff or rebel, how suave and winsome he could be, taking her hand or touching her arm gently, and saying: «But, Aileen, you must remember! You are and always will be Mrs. Frank Cowperwood, and as such you must do your part!»

And if for the moment she raged or wept, eyes filling and lips trembling, or hurried from his presence in a storm of emotion, he would follow her, and after a long argument or subtle appeal bring her to his point of view. Or failing that, he might send her flowers or suggest that after dinner they go together to the opera — a concession which almost invariably betrayed her vain and weak soul. For to appear with him in public: did not that, in part at least, prove that she was still his wife, the châtelaine of his home?

Chapter 11

De Sota Sippens, departing for London with such assistants as he needed, took a house in Knightsbridge when he arrived there, and proceeded to gather all the data he felt Cowperwood would require.

One of the things that struck him at once was the fact that in connection with two oldest undergrounds — the Metropolitan Railway and the District Railway, or Inner Circle, as it was called — there was a downtown loop, similar to that which had made the Cowperwood system of Chicago so useful to himself and so irritating and expensive to his rivals. These two London lines, the first of the world’s undergrounds, both badly built and operated by steam, actually enclosed and reached all of the principal downtown points, and so served as a key to the entire underground situation. Paralleling each other at a distance of about a mile, and joining at the ends in order to afford mutual running rights, they covered everything from Kensington and the Paddington Station on the west to Aldgate in the Bank of England district on the east. In fact, everything of any importance — the main streets, the theater district, the financial district, the shopping district, the great hotels, the railway stations, the houses of Parliament — was in this area.

Sippens was quick to learn that these lines, due to their poor equipment and management, were paying little more than their expenses. But they could be made profitable, for there was as yet, apart from buses, no other such convenient route to these districts.

Moreover, there was not only considerable public dissatisfaction with the old-fashioned steam service on these lines, but a distinct desire on the part of a younger financial element now entering the underground field to see them electrified and brought up to date. Among this element, and one of the principal minority shareholders in the District Railway, was Lord Stane, of whom Cowperwood had spoken. He was also one of the most prominent figures in the London social world.

This picture of the situation, written at great length by Sippens, was sufficient to stir Cowperwood. The central loop idea, if seized upon now, and bolstered with franchises or acts for extensions into the outlying areas, would give him exactly the type of control which he needed to make him the head and center of any future development.

And yet, unless he chose to dig into his own pockets, where was he to get the cash for all this? Probably a $100,000,000 eventually! He was at the moment dubious of inspiring a financial following which would furnish the capital, particularly since no one of the present London tubes appeared to be more than paying expenses. Certainly, this venture was a daring thing to consider at this time, and would have to be preceded and accompanied by an extremely subtle barrage of propaganda which would paint him in the best possible light.

He thought over all of the important American financial leaders, and their institution and banks, principally in the east, to whom, by reason of past dealings, he could now appeal. It should be made plain that he desired the credit rather than any exorbitant financial profit. For Berenice was right: this last and greatest of his financial adventures, if it came to pass, should be on a higher level than any of his previous enterprises, and so atone for all sins coupled with his customary jugglery.

In his heart, of course, he was by no means prepared to give over entirely his old tricks in connection with organizing and managing a traction development. Rather, since his schemes were not as well-known in England as in his own country, he was more than ever bent upon organizing a company for this and a company for that, one for each branch or existing system that was to be added or done over, the watered stocks of which would be sold to a gullible public. That was the way of such things. The public could always be hoodwinked into buying anything that was made to look sufficiently promising. It depended on the strength, respectability and stability that might be given to it by the proper associations. Having decided all this in his own mind, he at once cabled Sippens his thanks and instructions to remain in London pending further word.

In the meantime, Berenice’s mother had arrived in Chicago and established a temporary ménage, and both Berenice and Cowperwood, in their different ways, made clear to her what had happened and how from now on they were all to be joined in this new and possibly troublesome relationship. Although at first, and in the presence of Berenice, Mrs. Carter did indulge in some tears — based principally on self-criticism of her past, which, as she truly enough insisted, was the real cause of her daughter’s present course — nevertheless she was by no means so reduced as her quite unstable conscience at times made her believe. For, after all, she reflected, Cowperwood was a great man, and, as he himself now stated to her, Berenice would not only inherit a goodly portion of his estate, but if Aileen died, or granted him a divorce, he would most certainly marry her. For the present, he, of course, was to continue as before: as Mrs. Carter’s friend and the guardian of her daughter. Whatever happened, and whatever the rumours from time to time, this explanation was to be maintained. And to that end, their public contacts were to be as few and as conventional as possible. What he and Berenice might privately devise for themselves was their own affair, but they would never travel on the same boat or train, nor stop at the same hotel anywhere.

As to London, Cowperwood fancied there might be considerable social life for all of them there, particularly since, if all went well, he expected to ally himself with the higher financial circles and possibly to use his connection with Berenice and her mother as a means of inducing a meeting of forces and friends most favorable to him at their home, since he was looking to Mrs. Carter to maintain such an establishment as would seem natural and proper for a widow and her daughter who were wealthy and of good repute.

Berenice, of course, since originally this was her idea, was enthusiastic. And Mrs. Carter, as she listened to Cowperwood, regardless of her conception of him as ruthless and almost cruelly uncompromising where his personal comforts were concerned, was almost persuaded that all was for the best. Berenice had presented her own case in the most practical manner:

«I really care for Frank, Mother,» she had said to her, «and I want to be with him as much as possible. He never tried to force me, you know; it was I who went to him, and it was I who suggested this. You know, it hasn’t seemed right to me for a long time, ever since I knew that the money we have been living on wasn’t yours but his, to take all and give nothing. And yet, I’ve been just as much of a coward as you have been, too selfish and thin-skinned to face life without anything, as would have been the case if he had left us.»

«Oh, I know you’re right, Bevy,» said her mother, almost pleadingly. «Please don’t reproach me. I suffer so much as it is. Please don’t. It’s your future that I’ve always been thinking of.»

«Please, Mother, please,» begged Berenice, softening toward her, for, after all, she loved her mother, foolish and errant as she had been. True, in her school days she had been inclined to belittle her mother’s taste, knowledge, and judgment. But now that she knew all, she had come to look on her mother in a different light, if by no means exempting her wholly, still forgiving and sympathizing with her in her present state. She made no more belittling or condescending remarks, but on the contrary gave her only kindness and understanding, as if she were trying to make up to her for the human ills that had befallen her.

And so now she added, softly and soothingly: «You remember, Mother, I found out quickly enough, when I tried for myself to see what I could do, that I hadn’t been brought up in a way that prepared me for any of the conditions I would have to face. I had been guarded and petted too much. And I’m not blaming you, or Frank, either. But there’s no future for me in a social way, not in this country. The best I can do, I’m sure, is to join my life with Frank’s, for he’s the one person who can really help me.»

Mrs. Carter nodded in agreement and smiled wistfully. She knew that she must do whatever Berenice wished. She had no life of her own, no way of living outside of dependence on Cowperwood and her daughter.

Chapter 12

And it was following this general understanding that Cowperwood, Berenice, and her mother left for New York, the women going first and Cowperwood following later. His purpose was to investigate the American investment situation and also to find some international brokerage house through which he might have the original proposition in regard to the Charing Cross line redirected to him for his consideration; that is, without his appearing to be interested.

Of course, there were his own New York and London brokers, Jarkins, Kloorfain & Randolph, but in such a portentous business as this he did not wholly trust them. Jarkins, the principal figure in the American branch of the concern, though cunning and in some ways useful, was still too self-interested and also at times talked too much. Yet to go to a strange brokerage firm would be no better. It might even be worse. He finally decided to have someone whom he could trust suggest to Jarkins that it might be wise for Greaves and Henshaw to approach him again.

In this connection, he recalled that one of the letters of introduction presented to him by Greaves and Henshaw on their first call was from a certain Raphael Cole, a retired New York banker of considerable wealth, who some years before had tried to interest him in New York transit. Though Cowperwood had been too engrossed at the time with his Chicago affairs to consider Cole’s proposition, the conversation had resulted in a friendship, and later Cole had invested in some of Cowperwood’s Chicago properties.

His present idea in regard to Cole was not only to prime him for a possible investment in this London venture but to get him to suggest, through Jarkins, that Greaves and Henshaw approach him again. He decided to invite Cole to dinner at his Fifth Avenue home, with Aileen as hostess. Thus he would begin the placation of Aileen and at the same time give Cole the impression that he was a contented husband, for Cole led a more or less conventional life. And this London plan would certainly require some such conventional background in order to forestall public criticism. In fact, Berenice had said to him, just before leaving for New York: «Now, remember, Frank, the more attention you show Aileen publicly, the better it will be for all of us.» And with that she had given him a still, blue look, which in force and suggestiveness seemed to embody all the subtlety of the ages.

And in consequence, en route to New York, thinking over the wisdom of Berenice’s words, he wired Aileen of his coming. And, incidentally, too, he now planned to get in touch with a certain Edward Bingham, a bond salesman of the social type who came to see him quite frequently, and who would probably be able to supply information in regard to this man Tollifer.

And it was with this full program that he telephoned Berenice at the Park Avenue home which he had recently given her. After arranging for a meeting with her later in the day, he telephoned Cole. He also learned, after calling his office in the Netherlands Hotel, that among other messages there happened to be one from Bingham asking when it would be agreeable for Cowperwood to see him. Finally, he proceeded to his home, a man very different in mood from the one Aileen had seen some months before.

In fact, seeing him enter her bedroom this morning, she sensed at once that something agreeable was afoot, since his look and his stride so indicated.

«Well, how are you, my dear,» he began at once, in the genial manner he had not seen fit to display before her for a long time. «I suppose you got my telegram.»

«Yes,» returned Aileen, calmly and a little dubiously. At the same time, she watched him interestedly, since in her feeling for him there was affection as well as resentment.

«Ah, reading a detective story!» he said, observing the book on her bedside table and at the same time contrasting in his mind her mental resources with those of Berenice.

«Yes,» she replied, crossly. «What would you have me read — the Bible, or one of your monthly balance sheets, or your art catalogues?»

She was sad and hurt because of the fact that throughout his Chicago troubles he had neglected to write to her.

«The truth is, my dear,» he went on, placatingly and graciously, «I’ve been intending to write you, but I’ve been rushed to death. I really have. Besides, I knew you were probably reading the papers. It’s been in all of them. But I did get your wire, and it was nice of you, very! I thought I answered it. I should have, I know.» He referred to an encouraging telegram Aileen had sent him just after his much publicized defeat in the Chicago City Council.

«Oh, all right!» snapped Aileen, who at eleven o’clock in the morning was still idling over her dressing. «I’ll assume that you did. What else?»

He noticed her snowy, flouncy, white dressing gown, the kind she always favored, since it tended to show off her red hair, which at one time he had so greatly admired. He also noticed that her face was heavily powdered. The necessity for it weighed on his mind, as it was probably weighing on hers. Time! Time! Time! Always the erosive process at work! She was getting older, older, older. And she could do nothing except bleed at the heart, for well she knew how much he disliked signs of age in a woman, although he never mentioned it and appeared even to ignore it.

He felt not a little sorry for her, and therefore inclined to be amiable. In fact, looking at her and thinking of Berenice’s broad-minded view in regard to her, he saw no reason why this seeming reconciliation between them should not be stretched to include a trip abroad for Aileen. It need not necessarily be in his immediate company, but rather around the same time, in order to give the impression that all was well in regard to his married life. She might even go on the same boat, if it could be arranged for this Tollifer, or someone else, to take her off his hands. For it would be well that the person chosen to interest himself in her should pursue her abroad as well as here, since she must be kept out of the path of Berenice and himself.

«Doing anything tonight?» he asked, ingratiatingly.

«No, nothing special,» she replied, coldly, since his look, friendly as it was, seemed to imply that he wanted something of her, though what it was she could not guess. «Are you expecting to stay here for a while?»

«Yes, for some little time. At least, I shall be in and out of here. I have some plans which may take me abroad for a few weeks, and I want to talk to you about that.» He paused here, a little uncertain as to how to proceed. It was all very difficult, very complicated. «And I’d like you to do a little entertaining for me while I’m here. Do you mind?»

«No,» she said, briefly, sensing his aloofness. She felt that his thoughts were not with her, even now after their long separation. All at once she was too tired and too discouraged to argue with him.

«You wouldn’t care to go to the opera tonight, would you?» he then asked her.

«Why, yes, if you really want to go.» After all, it was a comfort to have him, even for a little while.

«Certainly, I do,» he replied, «and I want you to go with me. After all, you’re my wife, and mistress here, and regardless of how you feel about me, it’s necessary for us to keep up a favorable public appearance. It can’t do either of us any harm, and it may help us both. The fact is, Aileen,» he continued, confidentially, «now that I’ve had all this trouble in Chicago, I find it necessary to do one of two things: either drop all business activities in this country and retire — and I don’t feel much in the mood for that — or find something different to tackle somewhere else. I don’t want to die of dry rot, exactly,» he concluded.

«Oh, you! «Dry rot’!» interpolated Aileen, looking at him amusedly. «As though dry rot would ever overtake you! More likely you would overtake dry rot and chase it out!» This caused Cowperwood to smile. «At any rate,» he went on, «the only two things I’ve heard of so far that might interest me are a proposed subway scheme in Paris — which doesn’t appeal to me very much — and…» here he paused and meditated, the while Aileen studied him, wondering if this were true … «or something in London; I think I’d like to look over the underground situation there.»

At these words, and for some reason which she could not have explained — telepathy, psychic osmosis — Aileen brightened and seemed to envision something interesting.

«Really!» she said. «That sounds rather promising. But if you do go into something else, I hope you fix it this time so that there will be no possibility of trouble afterwards. You seem almost to create trouble wherever you go, or it creates itself for you.»

«Well, I’ve been thinking,» went on Cowperwood, ignoring her last comments, «that if nothing else turned up, I might try to do something in London, although I hear that the English are very unfriendly to American enterprise in any form. If that’s the case, I wouldn’t have a chance to break in there, particularly after my Chicago trouble.»

«Oh, Chicago!» exclaimed Aileen, at once defensive and loyal. «I wouldn’t worry about Chicago. Everyone with any brains knows what a pack of jealous jackals they are! I think London would be a wonderful place for you to start in again. You certainly ought to know how to fix things so as to avoid all the franchise trouble you appear to be having in Chicago. I’ve always felt, Frank,» she ventured here, and this on the strength of the years she had spent with him, and without any particular hope of ingratiating herself, «you’re too indifferent to the opinion of others. Other people — I don’t care who they are — just don’t seem to exist for you. That’s why you stir up all these fights, and you always will, unless you bother to be a little more considerate of other people. Of course, I don’t know what you have in mind, but I’m sure that if today you wanted to start out and be the least bit nice to people, why, with your ideas and your way of getting around people when you want to, there’d be no stopping you, that’s all,» and with that she paused, waiting to see if he would make any comment.

«Thanks,» he said, «you may be right, at that. I don’t know. At any rate, I’m thinking seriously of this London matter.»

Sensing the certainty of action in some direction on his part, she went on: «Of course, as for us, I know you don’t care for me any more, and never will. I can see that now. But at the same time, I feel that I’ve been an influence in your life, and if for nothing more than that — all I went through with you in Philadelphia and Chicago — I shouldn’t be kicked off like an old shoe. It isn’t right. And it can’t bring you any good in the long run. I’ve always felt, and still feel, that you might at least keep up a public pretense as far as I’m concerned; show me at least a little attention and not leave me to sit here alone week after week and month after month, without one word, one letter, anything…»

And here once more, as so many times in the past, he saw her throat tighten and her eyes mist with tears. And she turned away, as if unable to say more. At the same time, as he saw, here was exactly the compromise of which he had been thinking ever since Berenice had arrived in Chicago. Plainly, Aileen was ready for it, though to what extent he could not guess as yet.

«The thing I have to do,» he said, «is to find something else and find the cash for it. In the meantime, I want to keep this residence here and make it appear that everything is going on as before. It will make a good impression. There was a time, you know, when I wanted a divorce, but if you can bring yourself to let bygones be bygones and go on with an outward relationship, without quarreling with me over my private life, why, I think we might work out something. In fact, I’m sure we can. I’m not as young as I used to be, and while I reserve the right to regulate my private life to suit my personal needs, I see no reason why we shouldn’t go on as we have been, and even make things look better than they do now. Do you agree with that or not?»

And since Aileen had no other desire than to remain his wife, and also, despite his ill-treatment of her, wanted to see him succeed in anything he undertook, she now replied:

«Well, what else is there for me to do? You hold all the cards in your hands. What have I, really? Exactly what?»

And here it was that Cowperwood suggested that in case he found it necessary to go away and Aileen felt it would look better if she accompanied him, he would have no objection to that, or even to press notices indicating a marital harmony between them, so long as she did not insist on any routine form of contact which might embarrass him in his personal life.

«Well, if you want it that way,» she said as to this. «It is certainly no less than I have now,» but at the same time thinking that there might be another woman behind all this — probably that girl, Berenice Fleming. If such were the case, there would be no compromise on her part. For as to Berenice, never, never, would she allow him to humiliate her with any public relations with that vain and selfish upstart! Never, never, never!

And so, interestingly enough, while Cowperwood was thinking that he had made considerable progress, rather quickly, in the direction of his present dreams, Aileen was thinking that she had made at least some little gain; and that the more public attention she caused Cowperwood to pay her, at whatever cost to her private feeling, the stronger would be the evidence of her holding him, and the greater her public if not private triumph.

Chapter 13

The matter of interesting Cole in having Greaves and Henshaw reapproach him was accomplished by Cowperwood in but a few moments out of an evening of dining and drinking. Indeed, Cole expressed the thought that in London Cowperwood might find a better field for his powers than Chicago had ever offered him, in which case he would be glad to hear further in regard to any investment plans which might be devised.

Equally satisfactory was the talk with Edward Bingham, from whom Cowperwood drew out some interesting information regarding Bruce Tollifer. According to Bingham, Tollifer, at present, was in a sorry state. Although at one time a person of excellent social connections, and having some money, today he was without either. Still handsome, he looked dissipated, shabby. Until recently he had been associating with gamblers and other persons of questionable reputation; most of those who had formerly known and liked him had apparently stricken him from their lists.

On the other hand, as Bingham felt called upon to admit, within the past month Tollifer had been exhibiting attempts at rehabilitation. For he was now living alone at a modest so-called bachelor’s club, the Alcove, in Fifty-third Street, and was seen occasionally dining in the best restaurants. He believed that Tollifer was seeking to do one of two things: either to ingratiate himself with a wealthy woman who would be glad to pay him for such services as he could perform for her, or get himself a job in a brokerage firm where his one-time social connections might be considered worth a salary. This critical conclusion on the part of Bingham caused Cowperwood to smile, since it was exactly in this state that he had hoped to find Tollifer.

He thanked Bingham, and after he left telephoned Tollifer at the Alcove. That gentleman, at the moment, was lying down, half-dressed, rather dismally awaiting the arrival of five o’clock, at which time he intended to venture forth on one of his «cruises,» as he called them — those searchings in clubs, restaurants, theaters, bars, in order to exchange such casual greetings as might reopen old or create new friendships. It was three o’clock now, and a windy February day, when he came down into the main corridor to answer Cowperwood’s call, a half-smoked cigarette in his fingers, his hair ruffled, and his lounging slippers a little the worse for wear.

At the announcement: «This is Frank A. Cowperwood speaking,» Tollifer stiffened and pulled himself together, for that name had been a front page headline for months.

«Oh, yes, Mr. Cowperwood, what can I do for you?» and Tollifer’s voice was a blend of extreme awareness, civility, and willingness to accommodate himself to whatever might be asked of him.

«I have in mind a certain matter which I think might interest you, Mr. Tollifer. If you care to call at my office in the Netherlands at ten-thirty tomorrow morning, I’ll be glad to see you. May I expect you at that time?»

The voice, as Tollifer did not fail to note, was not exactly that of a superior addressing an inferior, yet it was authoritative and commanding. Tollifer, for all his social estimate of himself, was intensely curious and not a little thrilled.

«Certainly, Mr. Cowperwood, I’ll be there,» he replied immediately.

What could it mean? It might be a stock- or bond-selling proposition. If so, he would be delighted to take on such a job. Sitting in his room meditating on this unexpected call, he began to recall things he had read in regard to the Cowperwoods. There was that business of their trying to break into New York society, and the rumors of certain discomfitures and snubs in connection therewith. But then he returned to the idea of a job, and what that might mean in the way of social contacts, and he felt strangely cheered. He began to examine his face and figure, as well as the clothes in his closet. He must get a shave and a shampoo, and have his clothes well brushed and pressed. He would not go out this night, but rest and so refresh himself for the morrow.

And on the following morning he was at Cowperwood’s office, more repressed and pliable than he had been for a long time. For this, somehow, seemed to bode a new start in life. At least, so he hoped as he entered and saw the great man sitting behind a large rosewood desk which occupied the center of the room. But at once he felt reduced and a little uncertain of himself, for the man before him, although far from lacking in courtesy and a certain atmosphere of cordial understanding, was still so aloof and remote. Certainly, he decided, he might be described as handsome, forceful, and dominant. Those large, magnetic, and wholly unrevealing blue eyes, and those strong, graceful hands resting so lightly on the desk before him, the little finger of the right hand wearing a plain gold ring.

This ring, years before, Aileen had given him in his prison cell in Philadelphia, when he was at the lowest dip of his ever since ascending arc, as a token of her undying love, and he had never removed it. And here he was now, about to arrange with a somewhat déclassé social dandy to undertake a form of diversion which would preoccupy her in order that he might enjoy himself blissfully and peacefully with another woman. Really nothing short of a form of moral degradation! He fully realized that. But what else was he to do? What he was now planning must be as it was because it sprang out of conditions which life itself, operating through him and others, had created and shaped, and in any event not to be changed now. It was too late. He must work out matters bravely, defiantly, ruthlessly, so as to overawe people into accepting his methods and needs as inevitable. And so now, looking at Tollifer calmly and rather coldly, and motioning him to a chair, he began:

«Mr. Tollifer, do sit down. I telephoned you yesterday because there is something I want to have done which requires a man of considerable tact and social experience. I will explain it more fully a little later. I may say that I did not call you before having made some investigation of your personal history and affairs, but without intending you any harm, I assure you. In fact, quite the contrary. I may be of some service to you, if you can be so to me.» And here he smiled a bright smile, to which Tollifer responded in a somewhat dubious but still genial fashion.

«I hope you didn’t find so much against me as to make this conversation useless,» he said, ruefully. «I haven’t been living a strictly conventional life, I will admit. I wasn’t born for that type of thing, I’m afraid.»

«Very likely not,» said Cowperwood, quite pleasantly and consolingly. «But before we discuss that, I want you to be quite frank and tell me all about yourself. The matter I have in mind requires that I know all about you.»

He gazed encouragingly at Tollifer, and he, in turn, noting this, told in abbreviated form, and yet quite honestly, the entire story of his life, from his boyhood up. Whereupon Cowperwood, not a little entertained by this, decided that the fellow was a better sort than he had hoped for, less calculating — frank and random and pleasure-loving rather than sly and self-seeking. And, in consequence, he decided that he might speak to him more clearly and fully than at first he had intended.

«Financially, you are on the rocks, then?»

«Well, more or less so,» returned Tollifer, with a wry smile. «I think I’ve never been off the rocks, really.»

«Well, they’re usually crowded, I believe. But tell me, aren’t you, just at this time, trying to pull yourself together, and, if possible, reconnect yourself with the set to which you used to belong?»

He noticed an unmistakable shadow of distaste flicker cloudlike across Tollifer’s face as he answered: «Well, yes, I am,» and again that ironic, almost hopeless, yet intriguing, smile.

«And how do you find the fight going?»

«Situated as I am just now, not so good. My experience has been in a world that requires considerably more money than I have. I’ve been hoping to connect myself with some bank or brokerage house that has a pull with the sort of people I know here in New York, because then I might make some money for myself, as well as the bank, and also get in touch again with people who could really be of use to me…»

«I see,» said Cowperwood. «But the fact that you have allowed your social connections to lapse makes it, I take it, a little difficult. Do you really think that with such a job as you speak of you can win back to what you want?»

«I can’t say because I don’t know,» Tollifer replied. «I hope so.»

A slightly disconcerting note of disbelief, or at least doubt, in Cowperwood’s tone just then had caused Tollifer to feel much less hopeful than only a moment before he had felt. At any rate, he went on bravely enough:

«I’m not so old, and certainly not any more dissipated than a lot of fellows who have been out and gotten back. The only trouble with me is that I don’t have enough money. If I’d ever had that, I’d never have drifted out. It was lack of money, and nothing else. But I don’t feel that I’m wholly through by any means, even now. I haven’t stopped trying, and there’s always another day.»

«I like that spirit,» commented Cowperwood, «and I hope you’re right. At any rate, it should not prove difficult to get you a place in a brokerage house.»

Tollifer stirred eagerly and hopefully. «I wish I thought so,» he said, earnestly, and almost sadly. «It certainly would be a start toward something for me.»

Cowperwood smiled.

«Well, then,» he went on, «I think it might be arranged for you without any trouble. But only on one condition, and that is that you keep yourself free from any entanglements of any kind for the present. I say that because there is a social matter in which I am interested and which I may want you to undertake for me. It involves no compromise of your present bachelor’s freedom, but it may mean that for a time at least you will have to show particular attention to just one person, doing about the same sort of thing you were telling me of a while ago: paying attention to a rather charming woman a little older than yourself.»

As Cowperwood said this, Tollifer felt that there must be, perhaps, a wealthy, elderly woman of Cowperwood’s acquaintance on whom he had financial designs and that he was to be the cat’s-paw.

«Certainly,» he said, «if it is anything I feel I can do for you, Mr. Cowperwood.»

At this point Cowperwood leaned back easily in his chair, and, putting the fingers of his hands together, regarded Tollifer with a cold and calculating gaze.

«The woman I refer to is my wife, Mr. Tollifer,» he announced sharply and brazenly. «For years now, Mrs. Cowperwood and I have been — I will not say on bad terms, for that is not true — but more or less estranged.»

At this point Tollifer nodded as though he understood fully, but Cowperwood continued hastily:

«I do not mean that we are permanently so. Or that I wish to obtain any legal evidence of any kind against her. I do not. Her life is her own to live as freely as she chooses, yet within limits, of course. I would not tolerate any public scandal, and I would not allow anyone to intrigue her into scandal of any kind.»

«I can understand that,» commented Tollifer, who by now was beginning to sense demarcations which would need to be fully grasped and carefully observed if he were to have the opportunity of profiting by the proposal.

«Not quite yet, I believe,» retorted Cowperwood, a little coldly, «but I shall make myself perfectly clear. Mrs. Cowperwood was a very beautiful girl, one of the most beautiful I have ever seen. She is still very attractive, although she is middle-aged. And she could make herself much more attractive if she were not so despondent and inclined to be morbid. It is because of our break — and for that I accept all the responsibility and charge her with nothing — you understand that fully, I hope…»

«I do,» said Tollifer, interested and respectful.

«Mrs. Cowperwood has been allowing herself to slip — physically as well as socially — a course which may have justification to her mind, but none in reality. That is, she is still too young and has too much to live for, whatever she may think.»

«I can understand her feeling, though,» again interrupted Tollifer, with a trace of philosophic defiance which Cowperwood liked. It indicated sympathy and understanding.

«Very likely,» said Cowperwood, dryly and rather pointedly. «The task I am offering you, and for which I will, of course, provide the means, is that of intervening in some way — ostensibly without my knowledge and, of course, without her knowing anything about this conversation of ours — to make her life more interesting and colorful than it is now. She is alone too much. She sees too few people, and those not of the right sort. My purpose in calling you here is to see whether — the necessary money provided for you, of course, and no conduct in any way open to question indulged in — you cannot find ways of broadening her interests, surround her with a type of person more in keeping with her means and her mentality. I may say here, I am not seeking any contact with society, either for her or myself. But there are intermediate worlds with which I think she might be brought in touch, to her advantage, as well as, in a way, to my own. If you understand what I mean, perhaps you can make some suggestions.»

Whereupon Tollifer proceeded to outline as exactly as he could the possibilities of a life for Aileen such as Cowperwood had indicated. Cowperwood listened and seemed pleased with Tollifer’s grasp of the situation.

«There is one thing more, Mr. Tollifer,» he continued. «I want you to understand that your services in connection with the brokerage house which I will select will be directed by me personally. I hope we understand each other as to that,» and he rose from his chair, indicating that the interview was at an end.

«Yes, Mr. Cowperwood,» said Tollifer, rising and smiling.

«All right. Now I may not be able to see you very soon again, but you will not be left without instructions. I will see that a drawing account is arranged for you. That is all, I believe. Good morning!»

And this salutation, accompanied by a resumption of aloof dignity, was sufficient once more to impress Tollifer with a sharp sense of the vast gulf that still lay between himself and this man.

Chapter 14

The effect on Tollifer of this amazing interview was extremely exhilarating. Leaving Cowperwood’s office, he walked north along Fifth Avenue, in order to gaze at the beautiful Cowperwood mansion. After examining the impressive Italian palace lines and decorations, he turned, and with a sense of adventure, hailed a hansom cab for a ride to Delmonico’s, at Fifth Avenue and Twenty-seventh Street. This region was alive at the luncheon hour with the most pretentious and ambitious of the New York social world and stars of the theatrical, artistic, and legal world, coming to see and be seen. Before he left the restaurant, he had spoken with at least six of the better known patrons, and because of his exuberant and authoritative manner, had registered himself sharply on the minds of many others.

In the meantime, Cowperwood had instructed the Central Trust Company, of which he was a director and stockholder, to notify a certain Bruce Tollifer, then resident at the Alcove, on Fifty-third Street near Park Avenue, that his services in connection with its special account department were to be considered, and that if he would call at once he would receive instructions. The execution of this arrangement, which took place on the same day, with an advance of one month’s salary at $200 a week, so thrilled Tollifer that he felt as though he were walking on air. At once he made it his business to inquire, as casually as possible, concerning the New York history of the Cowperwoods, not only among newspapermen but the various know-it-alls of the bohemian bars and restaurants of the city: the Gilsey House, the Martinique, the Marlborough, and the Metropolitan at Broadway and Forty-second Street, the mecca for sports and rounders of the day.

And discovering that Aileen had been seen with this and that actor, and at certain restaurants, or races, or other public events, with various personalities, he decided to get himself somehow included in those gatherings where she was certain to be. A proper formal introduction, of course, would be the best possible entrance for him.

And now Cowperwood, having moved in this matter of a social chaperonage for Aileen, was free to devote his attention to the business of arranging for the sale of at least a portion of his Chicago holdings. At the same time, he was awaiting developments of negotiations by Cole with the representatives of the Charing Cross line. His main object, at the present time, was to reduce them to such a state that when he did see them they would be willing to make a reasonable offer.

And so, upon the arrival of Jarkins, with news that Greaves and Henshaw were once more anxious to obtain an interview with him, he affected no great interest. If they really had an advantageous offer to make, and were not merely haggling as before, and if they would appear within the next ten days…

Whereupon Jarkins immediately cabled his London partner, Kloorfain, emphasizing the necessity for prompt action. Within twenty-four hours Messrs. Greaves and Henshaw were on a boat sailing for New York. And for several days after their arrival they were closeted with Jarkins and Randolph, going over the data which they would present to Cowperwood. And after arranging for an interview, and ignorant of the fact that Cowperwood himself was the instigator of this meeting, they were finally brought into his presence by Jarkins and Randolph, equally unenlightened as to their part in the matter.

True enough, as Cowperwood knew, Greaves and Henshaw were men of great contracting and engineering import in England. They were comparatively wealthy, as he had been informed by Sippens. Also, in addition to their contract with the Traffic Electrical Company to build the tunnels and stations of the new underground, they had recently paid an additional £30,000 for a further option to take over the entire «act.»

But plainly the Traffic Electrical Company was on the rocks. Consisting of Rider, Lord Stane, Johnson, and some of their friends, it had the advantage of considerable legal and financial knowledge, but none of these men had any real conception of how to finance or successfully operate such a road, and were in no position to finance it themselves. Stane had already invested heavily in the two central loop roads: the District and the Metropolitan, but had not made any money. Hence his desire to divest himself of the Charing Cross line and the offer of it to Greaves and Henshaw upon payment of £30,000 additional to the £10,000 previously paid by them to secure the right to construct it. Actually, since he now had this larger loop scheme in mind, Cowperwood was interested, because, as he saw it, it might either be operated separately, or, better yet, should he secure control of the District and the Metropolitan, be combined with those as an extension, a most excellent entering wedge for him.

Nonetheless, when Greaves and Henshaw, shouldered and bolstered by Jarkins and Randolph, entered his office, his manner was not overwhelmingly cordial. Greaves was a man of great height and bulk, of florid complexion, and a solid middle-class conviction of his own worth. Henshaw, though also tall, was thin and pale, with the air of a gentleman. Allowing them to spread out their maps and papers, and once more listening to the entire story as though he did not already know it, Cowperwood asked only a few questions.

«One thing, gentlemen,» he announced, «assuming that I chance to be interested in this idea to the extent of looking into it further, how much time may I have for an investigation? I assume, of course, that what you really want to do is to sell the complete control of this project, together with your contract to construct the line. Am I right?»

At this both Greaves and Henshaw stiffened visibly, for it was not at all what they wished to do. What they really desired, as they now explained, was to sell for £30,000 a 50 per cent interest. The other 50 per cent, together with their contract for construction, was to remain in their hands. For this share, however, as they naively stated, they were willing to use their influence to help market the $8,000,000 worth of $100 shares which the Traffic Electrical Company had already printed but had never been able to sell, surrendering a portion of their 50 per cent so to do. But, as they added, a man like Cowperwood could help finance and operate the road in such a way that it would be sure to pay — a suggestion which caused Cowperwood to smile, for it was not the building or operation of this line which was so important, it was the control of the entire underground system that was his dream.

«But I judge from our talk so far that you expect to make a reasonable profit out of constructing the road for the parent company, not much less than 10 per cent, I take it,» said Cowperwood.

«Well, yes, we expect to make the usual contractors’ profit, but no more,» returned Greaves.

«That may be true,» said Cowperwood, suavely, «but if I understand you correctly, you two gentlemen expect to make at least $500,000 for yourselves out of the construction of this road, and entirely apart from your return as partners in the company for which you are doing the work.»

«But for our 50 per cent we expect to bring in some English capital,» explained Henshaw.

«How much English capital?» asked Cowperwood, warily, for he was thinking that if he could secure 51 per cent of the road, it might be worth considering.

But as to that, as he now discovered, they were a little vague. If he came in and took over the load of consols and gave the actual construction an appearance of certainty, perhaps as much as 25 per cent of the entire cost could be sold to the public.

«But would you guarantee to do that?» asked Cowperwood, rather interested by the idea. «That is, would you make your share of the company contingent upon your raising so much money before you received your share?»

Well, no, they could not do that, exactly, but if they failed, they might be willing to take something less than 50 per cent, say 30 or 35, provided they were permitted to retain their contract to construct.

Cowperwood smiled again at this point.

«What interests me, gentlemen,» he went on, «is that you who appear to understand the engineering business thoroughly should assume the business of financing to be less difficult. For it isn’t, of course. Just as you have had to study for years, and then by practical work get to the place where your reputations would command such contracts as I knew you are accustomed to, so I, as a financier, have had to do exactly the same thing. And, of course, you cannot expect any man, however great his wealth, to step forward and agree to construct and operate a road as large as this out of his own pocket. He couldn’t do it. It would be too great a risk. He would have to do what you are planning to do: get other people to invest. And he would not raise money for any enterprise without first a profit for himself, and, second, a profit for those whose money he was using. And in order to do that he must have much more than a 50 per cent interest in anything he undertakes.»

Greaves and Henshaw were silent, and he went on talking.

«Now, you are not only asking me to raise the money, or most of it, while I make it possible for you to raise the rest, but to pay you to construct the line and then afterward operate it jointly with you. If that is what is really in your minds, of course we need not talk any further, for I am not interested. What I might do would be to take over your £30,000 option, provided it gave me full control of the road, and possibly leave you the £10,000 you have paid in and your contract to build, but not more than that. For in addition to all this, as I know, there are £60,000 of consols, carrying interest at 4 per cent, which have to be looked after.»

Jarkins and Randolph were beginning to feel by now that they had in some way mishandled all of this. At the same time, Greaves and Henshaw, sensing that they had overreached themselves in a situation where they might have profited, gazed at each other dubiously.

«Very well,» said Greaves, finally. «You are your own best judge, Mr. Cowperwood. But we want you to understand clearly that there isn’t a sounder proposition in the world. London is the ideal field for undergrounds. It has no united system, and lines like this are absolutely necessary, and will come. The money will be found for them.»

«Possibly,» said Cowperwood, «but as for myself, if after again looking over the situation you still find yourselves unable to work out your plan and are willing to accept mine, you may say so in writing, and I will then consider it. However, if I decide to become interested, it would have to be with an option to close on my own terms. That, of course, would not mean that I would disturb you in the matter of your construction contract. That could stand, I think, provided your specifications were satisfactory.»

He drummed on his desk with his fingers as if to indicate that the interview was over, and then paused to add that since there was no proposition before him now that he could consider, he would take it as a favor if no publicity of any kind resulted from what he had said. Then he signaled Jarkins to remain, and the moment the others had gone, turned to him and said:

«The trouble with you, Jarkins, is that you never completely grasp an opportunity even when it’s in your hands. Look what’s happened here today! You bring me two men, who, according to your story and theirs, control an important traction proposition in London, which, if rightly handled, might readily lead to much larger things for everyone concerned. Yet they come here with no conception of the way I do business. You know what that is: full control for myself. I doubt if even now they have any clear knowledge of my experience in this field and what I could do with such a project. They thought they could sell me a half-interest in something which they and their friends would control. I tell you, Jarkins,» and here he glared with a finality which sent chills up and down the spine of Mr. Jarkins, «if you’re to be of any service to me in this matter, I would advise you not to bother with this particular proposition but to look into the entire London underground situation and see what can be done with that. And furthermore, I want you to keep all of your private speculations in regard to me and my affairs to yourself. If you had gone to London before bringing these men to me, and ascertained all there was to know about them, you would not have wasted my time and theirs.»

«Yes, sir,» said Jarkins, who was fat and forty, a very model of sartorial excellence, and, at the moment, because of nervousness, wet with perspiration. He was a flabby, waxlike man, with black, acquisitive eyes, below which a small, pointed nose stuck out, and below that a soft, puffy mouth. He was forever dreaming of some speculative coup which would make him a multimillionaire, and a well-known figure at first nights at the theater, polo games, dog shows, and other society functions. In London he had as many friends as he had in New York.

In consequence, Cowperwood had the feeling that he might have some use for him, and yet, at the moment, he was not willing to do more than throw out vague hints, knowing that they would, in all probability, cause him to go tearing after Greaves and Henshaw to set himself right with them, and, who knows, he might even go over to London, where… well, what better press agent could he have than Mr. Jarkins?

Chapter 15

And true enough, it was not many days after Greaves and Henshaw had departed for London that Jarkins also sailed, all aquiver with the expectation of becoming a part of an enormous adventure which might lead to those dreamed-of millions.

And while this preliminary move in connection with Greaves and Henshaw and their Charing Cross line appeared to have ended less definitely than Cowperwood had hoped, it made no change in his determination to proceed. For there was the information provided by Sippens, and because of that he was determined to get control of some underground line, if not the Charing Cross. And so there were not only consultations, but a number of dinners at his home, from which latter Aileen took the impression that her husband was at least a little interested in the old life which had made her early days in Chicago with him her most colorful and happy memory. She was beginning to wonder whether, by some strange turn of fate, the Chicago failure might not have sobered him, so that he had decided to accept, if not necessarily relish, the old-time outward relationship, which, little as it meant to him, could still be so comforting to her.

But the truth was that Cowperwood was becoming more and more intrigued by the temperament of Berenice. There was about her a certain playful and inventive whimsy, which, combined with her practical as well as poetic and rhapsodic moods, delighted him. In fact, he was never weary of studying her, and in the comparatively short period since she had arrived in Chicago, he had come to experience and relish the equivalent of a mental fever in regard to her.

One of Berenice’s fancies, and one which had affected Cowperwood most profoundly, had occurred more recently in Chicago. One late afternoon they had driven out for dinner to the inn where they had dined a couple of evenings previously. But before entering, she had led him to the nearby woods, where in a snow-flecked patch of scrub oak and pine stood a snow figure in his own image, part caricature and part an arresting likeness. She had driven out alone early that very morning and shaped it. For the eyes she had used two bright gray-blue stones, and for the mouth and nose, small pine cones of different sizes. She had even brought out one of his hats and placed it jauntily atop the snowman’s head, thus serving to emphasize the likeness. Suddenly confronted with this figure at dusk, a wintry wind whispering among the trees and the last rays of a blood-red sun spearing through, Cowperwood was startled.

«Why, Bevy! Of all the odd things to do! When did you do this, you pixie?» And he laughed at the touch of the comic, for she had placed one eye the least bit askew, and the nose was a little exaggerated.

«I did it this morning. I drove out here alone and made my lovely snowman!»

«It does look like me, by Jove!» he said, amazedly. «But, Bevy, how long did it take you to do it?»

«Oh, perhaps an hour,» and she stepped back and eyed it appraisingly. Then, taking his cane from him, she placed it against one of the snowman’s pockets, which were indicated by small stones. «Now, see how perfect you are! All snow and cones and stone buttons!» and she reached up and kissed the mouth.

«Bevy! If you’re going to do that, come here!» and he seized her in his arms, feeling that there was something here that was eerie, elfin. «Berenice, dear, I swear you puzzle me. Have I a real flesh-and-blood girl, or a sprite, a witch?»

«Didn’t you know?» and she turned and spread out her fingers at him. «I’m a witch, and I can turn you into snow and ice,» and she came eerily toward him.

«Berenice, for heaven’s sake! What nonsense! Sometimes I think you are the one who is bewitched. But you may witch me all you care to, only don’t leave me,» and he kissed her and held her tight in his arms.

But she drew away and turned back to the snowman. «There, now!» she exclaimed, «you’ve gone and spoiled it all. He’s not real, after all, darling. And I made him so real. He was so big and cold, and needed me so much out here. And now I’ll have to destroy him, my poor snowman, so that no one will have ever truly known him but me.» And all of a sudden she dashed the figure apart with Cowperwood’s cane. «See, I made you, and now I’m unmaking you!» And as she talked she powdered the snow through her gloved fingers, while he gazed at her wonderingly.

«Come, come, Bevy, sweet. What are you saying? And as for making and unmaking, do both, but don’t leave me. You are taking me into strange places, new and strange moods, a wonder world of your own, and I am happy to go. Do you believe that?»

«Of course, dear, of course,» she now replied as brightly and as differently as though no such scene as this had ever been. «It’s meant to be so. It must be.» And she slipped her arm under his. She appeared to have come out of some trance or illusion of her own, concerning which he would have liked to question her, but he felt that he should not. Yet, and more at this moment than ever before, there was that about her which thrilled him, as he realized that he could come and see and touch her, without let or hindrance, and that now, as never before, he was allowed to walk and talk and be with her. This was the substance quite, of all real earthly good and delight. Truly, he would never wish to part from her, for never before had he encountered anyone so varied, so different, so reasoning and practical and yet at the same time so unreal and whimsical as this. Histrionic, yes, and yet the most resourceful and colorful of all the women he had known!

And on the purely sensual side, there was something about her which from the beginning not only surprised but enticed him. She refused to permit herself either to be lost in or wholly ravished by the male. No mere commonplace fleshly instrument for the satisfaction of the lust of himself or any other was she. On the contrary, and always, however amorous or fevered she might be, still she was quite definitely conscious of her charms: the swirl of her red-gold hair about her face, the magnetism and implication of her inciting and compelling blue eyes, the sweetness of her mouth, with its enchanting and enigmatic smile.

Indeed, as he thought after the most shaking and reducing transports with her, hers was never a mere gross and savage lust, but a glorified and intense awareness and evaluation of her own beauty, enforcing its claims by the art of suggestion and thereby producing an effect that was different from any he had ever known. For it was not Berenice but himself who was most ravished mentally and sensually, indeed all but submerged in her own exotic consciousness of what this relationship implied.

Chapter 16

Realizing that it would be necessary for him to cooperate with Tollifer, at least in some small way, in order to bring about effective results in regard to Aileen, Cowperwood decided that he would inform her of his planned trip to London in a few weeks’ time, suggesting that if she chose to she might accompany him. And he would notify Tollifer to this effect, making plain to him that he would be expected to entertain her so that she would not be torturing herself with her husband’s neglect as she had in the past. His mood at the time was one of the best. After the long period of tragic emotional cleavage between them, he felt that at last he was about to adjust matters in such a way as would ease her sufferings and bring about at least a semblance of peace.

At sight of him — ruddy, assured, genial, a gardenia in his lapel, grey hat, grey gloves, and swinging a cane — Aileen was compelled to restrain herself in order not to smile more pleasantly than she felt he deserved. At once he began to talk of his affairs. Had she noticed from the papers that one of his bitterest enemies in Chicago had recently died? Well, that was the end of that worry! What were they going to have for dinner? He would like Adrian to prepare some sole Marguéry, if it wasn’t too late. By the way, he had been very busy; he had been to Boston and to Baltimore, and shortly he must go to Chicago. But this London matter… he had been looking into that, and probably, very shortly, he would be going over there. How would she like to go along? Of course, he would be very busy while there, but she could run over to Paris, or Biarritz, and he might meet her week ends.

Whereupon Aileen, taken aback by this new development, leaned forward in her chair, her eyes alight with pleasure. Then catching herself, remembering her true relationship to this husband of hers, she sank back again. There had been too many subterfuges on his part for her to be sure of anything. Nevertheless, she decided it was best to assume that this invitation meant a genuine desire for her company.

«Fine! Do you really want me?» she asked.

«Would I be asking you, dear, if I didn’t? Of course, I want you. This is a serious move for me. It may prove a success, and it may not. Anyway,» and here he lied with his usual bland utilitarianism — a stab in the very vitals of love — «you were with me at the beginning of my other two adventures, and I think you should come in on this one, don’t you?»

«Yes, Frank, I would like to be in on it, if you feel that way. It would be wonderful. I’ll be ready whenever you decide to go. When do we sail — what boat?»

«I’ll have Jamieson find out, and let you know,» he said, referring to his personal secretary.

She walked to the door and rang for Carr to give him the order for dinner, her whole being suddenly revivified. A touch of the old life, this seemed, wherein she had been a part of both power and efficiency. She also ordered Carr to get out the luggage and report on its condition.

And then Cowperwood, expressing concern for the health of the tropical birds he had imported for his conservatory, suggested that they go and look at them. Aileen, now in a most cheerful mood, walked briskly beside him, watching him as he studied the two alert troupials from the Orinoco, and attempted by whistling to induce the male to utter his pellucid cry. Suddenly he turned to Aileen, and said:

«As you know, Aileen, I’ve always planned to make this house into a really fine museum. I keep buying these things, and eventually it should be one of the finest private collections. And I’ve been thinking a lot lately about how to arrange with you so that when I pass on, as I will, sooner or later, it will be kept, not so much as a memorial to me, but as a pleasure for people who care for things like this. I’m going to draw up a new will, and that’s one of the things I want to consider.»

Aileen was a little puzzled by all this. What did it mean?

«I’ll soon be sixty,» he went on, quietly, «and while I’m not thinking of dying just yet, I certainly feel that I ought to clear matters up. As three of my five executors, I’ve been intending to name Mr. Dolan, of Philadelphia, and Mr. Cole, as well as the Central Trust Company here. Both Dolan and Cole are men who understand the financial and executive side of things, and I’m sure they would carry out my wishes. But since I intend leaving you the use of this house for your lifetime, I’ve been thinking of joining you up with Dolan and Cole, so that you can either open the house to the public yourself or see that arrangements are made to do so. I want the house to be beautiful, and remain beautiful after I die.»

Aileen was now even more thrilled. She could not imagine what had brought about this serious consideration of herself in connection with her husband’s affairs, but she was flattered and gratified. It must be that he was beginning to take a more sobered view of life.

«You know, Frank,» she said, trying not to be too emotional, «how I’ve always felt about everything in connection with you. I’ve never had any other real life, and never want to have any, apart from you, although you don’t seem to feel that way any more. But as far as this house is concerned, if you leave it to me or make me one of your executors, you can rest assured that nothing will ever be changed by me. I never pretended to have the taste and knowledge that you have, but you know that your wishes will always be sacred to me.»

While she talked, Cowperwood was poking his finger at a green and orange macaw, whose harsh voice, harmonizing with his brazen colors, seemed to mock at the solemnity of his mood. Yet he was touched by Aileen’s words, and reached over and patted her on the shoulder.

«I know that, Aileen. I only wish the two of us could look at life from the same standpoint. But since we cannot, I want to make the best of all possible compromises, because I know that whatever has been or may be, you care for me and are likely to continue to do so. And whether you believe it or not, if I can make any return for that, I am only too anxious to do it. This matter of the house, and some other things I am going to talk to you about presently, are a part of it.»

At the dinner table later, he told her of his idea of endowing a hospital with extensive research facilities, and spoke of other bequests. In this connection, he indicated how necessary it would be for him to make frequent returns to New York and to this house. And on such occasions he would prefer her to be there. Of course, there would be intermittent trips abroad for her, too.

And seeing her so happy and satisfied, he congratulated himself on the manner in which he had brought her around to his terms. If only they could continue that way, all would be well.

Chapter 17

In London at this time Jarkins was busily engaged in impressing his partner, Kloorfain, with the news that the great Cowperwood, he believed, was really interested in the London underground situation as a whole! He described Cowperwood’s attitude and words, and at the same time he explained that they had made a mistake in not sensing that a man with such immense holdings would certainly not want to bother with one little underground system. How ridiculous for Greaves and Henshaw to think they could interest him in 50 per cent of their line! Why, here was no chance of him accepting any such terms. Nothing short of a full 51 per cent control for him! Did Kloorfain think that Greaves and Henshaw were ever likely to find the money for their line in England?

To which Kloorfain, a stout, oleaginous Dutchman, as shrewd in small practical ways as he was deficient in large financial vision or courage, replied:

«Not at all! Too many „acts,“ as it is. Too many companies fighting each other for single routes. No willingness on the part of any one company to join up with any other to give the public a through route at a reasonable fare. I’ve seen it myself, for I’ve been riding around London for years. Why, just think, there are these two central lines, the Metropolitan and the District, which together control a circle around the very business heart of London» … and he proceeded to point out some of the practical as well as financial errors made by these two lines, and their resulting difficulties. They had never been willing to merge and build feeder lines, not even to electrify and modernize those they had. They were still running steam engines through tunnels and open cuts. The only company which had shown any sense at all was the City and South London, which ran from the Monument to Clapham Common. It had an electric system which operated with a third rail, and it ran smoothly, was well lighted, and the only well-patronized road in the city. But even so, it was too short; its passengers had to transfer and pay an extra fare on the London loop. London certainly needed a man like Cowperwood or a group of English financiers who would get together and finance and enlarge the system.

As to proposed lines which Cowperwood might secure, well, there was the Baker Street and Waterloo, being promoted by a Londoner by the name of Abington Scarr. Scarr had had his act for the last sixteen months and done nothing. Then there was some talk of extensions being made by the District, but in both cases capital was wanting.

«In fact,» concluded Kloorfain, «if Cowperwood really wants that Charing Cross, I don’t think he’d have much trouble getting it. Traffic Electrical gave up trying to finance it over two years ago. Since then these two engineers have had it, but until this suggestion in regard to Cowperwood came up, I’m sure they never had a bid of any kind. Besides, they’re not railroad men, and unless they find a man with as much money as Cowperwood has, I doubt if they’ll ever be able to put it through.»

«Well, then, there’s no use worrying about them, is there?» commented Jarkins.

«I think not,» reiterated Kloorfain. «But I think we ought to look up some of the people connected with the two old central loop lines, the District and the Metropolitan, or some of the bankers down in Threadneedle Street, and see what we can find out. You know Crawshaw, of Crawshaw and Vokes. They’ve been trying to find money for Greaves and Henshaw ever since they took over the option. Of course, they’ve failed, just as the Traffic Electrical crowd failed before them. They want too much.»

«Traffic Electrical?» queried Jarkins. «That’s the company that had this line originally. What sort of people are they?»

At once, and quite briskly, Kloorfain recalled a number of things in connection with them, not all that Sippens had discovered, but enough to interest both men. For now, emerging out of the pool of Kloorfain’s memories came Stane, Rider, Bullock, and Johnson, but more particularly Johnson and Stane. They had been among the principal promoters of Charing Cross and Kampstead, Stane was of the nobility and a large stockholder in District as well as City and South London. Johnson was counsel for Stane, as well as for District and Metropolitan, and also a stockholder in both lines.

Well, why not try and see this man Johnson?» queried Jarkins, all ears and attention because of his rift with Cowperwood. «He must be pretty well informed on all that’s going on.»

Kloorfain was standing at a window, looking down into the street. «Capital!» he exclaimed, turning around to face Jarkins. «The very idea! Why not? Only…» And now he paused and looked dubiously at Jarkins. «Is this all quite ethical? As I understand it, we haven’t the right to say we represent Cowperwood. From what you say he only agreed to hear Greaves and Henshaw in New York because we asked him to. He didn’t appoint us to do any work in connection with them.»

«Well, anyhow, I think it might be a good thing to sound out this fellow Johnson,» returned Jarkins, «indicate to him that Cowperwood, or some American millionaire that he know, is interested in a plan to unite some of these lines, and then suggest that the Charing Cross line, if they could get it back, might be sold to him. In that case, as the agents bringing them together, we ought to come in for a pretty neat bonus, and we’d be entitled to it. Besides, if any shares can be picked up now or sold for them or Cowperwood, we might come in as purchasing or selling agents. Why not?»

«Not a bad idea,» said Kloorfain, becoming more eager. «I’ll see if I can get him on the telephone.»

He lumbered into an inner office, and was about to make the call when he stopped and looked at Jarkins.

«The simplest way, I think, is to ask for a consultation in connection with a financial problem which is before us but which cannot be explained over the telephone. He’ll think there’s a fee in it for him, and we’ll just let him think so until we explain what it is.»

«Good!» said Jarkins. «Let’s call him now.»

So, after a very cautious explanation by Kloorfain to Johnson over the telephone, he turned and said: «He says he’ll see us tomorrow at eleven o’clock.»

«Capital!» exclaimed Jarkins. «I think we’re on the right track now. Anyway, we’re moving. And if he isn’t interested himself, he may know someone who is.»

«Quite right, quite right,» repeated Kloorfain, who was mainly concerned at this time to see that due credit for his share of all this fell to him. «I’m glad I thought of him. This may turn out to be the biggest thing we’ve ever done.»

«Quite right, quite right!» echoed Jarkins, who was elated enough, but not as elated as he would have been had the whole problem been worked out by himself. For Jarkins had always thought of himself as not only the brains but the dynamic force of this combination.

Chapter 18

The offices of Rider, Bullock, Johnson & Chance, as well as that of Lord Stane, were in one of the dingiest sections of Storey Street, adjacent to the Inns of Court. In fact, the whole region, except for the Inns of Court, would be regarded by Americans as most inappropriate housing for distinguished legal talent. Small, remodeled three- and four-story residences or one-time lofts and stores now contained offices, libraries, consulting chambers, for as many as a dozen solicitors, their stenographers, clerks, errand boys, and other assistants.

Storey Street itself was so narrow as almost to forbid the companionable stroll of two pedestrians arm in arm. As for the roadway proper, it might admit the easy passage of two pushcarts, but by no means two vehicles of any greater size. Yet through this lane poured a veritable host of workers, including those who used it for a quick cut to the Strand and adjacent thoroughfares.

The firm of Rider, Bullock, Johnson & Chance occupied all of the four floors of 33 Storey Street, a building no more than twenty-three feet wide, though fifty feet deep. The ground floor, originally the reception and living room of the residence of a singularly retiring judge of a preceding generation, was now the general reception room and library. Lord Stane occupied a small office in the rear of first floor; the second floor was given over to the three most important members of the firm: Rider, Johnson, and Bullock. Chance, along with the various assistants, occupied the third floor. Elverson Johnson’s office, at the extreme rear of the second floor, looked down on a small court. Its cobbled paving had once been part of an ancient Roman courtyard, but its historic luster was dimmed by too great familiarity for those who were compelled to contemplate it day after day.

There was no elevator, or «lift,» to use the English term. A fairly large air shaft extended from the middle of the second floor to the roof. The offices were also equipped with a rather antique form of air wheel, which was supposed to add to the oxygenization of the air within. In addition, each room contained a fireplace — in which soft coal was burned throughout the foggy, rainy days of winter — and this added immensely to the comfort as well as charm of these interiors. In each solicitor’s room were spacious and well-made desks and chairs, and a white marble mantelpiece on which stood books or bits of statuary. The walls were hung with rather dusty engravings of bygone English legal lights or bits of British scenery.

Johnson, the authoritative and financially ambitious member of the firm was, in the main, a practical person, and followed, for the most part, an individual course that would be most advantageous to his personal plans. In one corner of his mind, however, was a complex which led him to speculate on the value of religion and even sympathize with the advancement of the nonconformist doctrines. He was given to meditating upon the hypocrisy and spiritual stagnation of the High Church party, and also upon the earthly as well as heavenly significance of such famous religionists as John Knox, William Penn, George Fox, and John Wesley. In his complicated and curious mental cosmos, he sheltered obviously rival and even antagonistic notions. He felt that there should be a ruling class which should advance and maintain itself by a desirable if not always justifiable cunning. Since in England this class was already buttressed by laws of property, inheritance, and primogeniture, it was important, correct, and all but unalterable. Hence the poor in mind as well as substance might best trust themselves to obedience, hard work, and a faith in a Heavenly Father who would, in the last analysis — perhaps — look after them. On the other hand, the immense gulf between not always witless poverty and unearned wealth seemed to him cruel and almost evil. This viewpoint supported his more urgent religious moods, which verged at times upon the sanctimonious.

Though he had come out of the lesser world of the socially weak and ineffective, he was ever aspiring to those upper walks where, if not he, then his children — two sons and one daughter — would be as secure as those whom he so greatly admired and criticized. In fact, he was aspiring to a title for himself: an unpretentious «Sir» to begin with, which later, if luck favored him, might be accentuated by further royal consideration. To win to that, as he well knew, he must not only secure more money than he now had, but also the favor of those who possessed money and title. In consequence, he intuitively attuned his actions to the ambitions and welfare of the members of that class.

He was small, pompous, wiry, authoritative. His father, a bibulous carpenter of Southwark, had wretchedly maintained a family of seven. Young Johnson was apprenticed to a baker, for whom he delivered bread. His diligence attracted the attention of a customer who was a printer, and by him he was taken on as a «devil» and encouraged to read and fix his mind on some practical line of work which would lift him out of the drab and miserable state in which he then moved. And Johnson was an eager pupil. Delivering printed matter to all manner of merchants and tradesmen, he finally came in contact with a young solicitor, Luther Fletcher by name, who, campaigning to represent one of the Southwark divisions in the London County Council, found in young Johnson, then not more than twenty years old, one who interested him as a legal possibility. His inquisitiveness and industry so fascinated Fletcher that he sent him to night school for the study of law.

From that point on, Johnson’s affairs prospered. The firm to which he was ultimately articled was not long in being impressed with his intuitive legal sense, and he was soon undertaking most of the detail work of the phases of law in which this firm was interested: contracts, property rights, wills, and the organization of companies. At the age of twenty-two, he passed the necessary examinations and was admitted solicitor. At twenty-three he encountered Mr. Byron Chance, of Bullock & Chance, solicitors, who offered him a partnership in that firm.

Bullock, a man of standing with the barristers of the Inns of Court, had for a friend one Wellington Rider, a solicitor of even more influential connections than himself. Rider managed the affairs of a number of large estates, among them that of the Earl of Stane, as well as the legal business of the District Railway. Also becoming interested in Johnson, he was seriously moved to persuade him to leave Bullock and join up with him. However, both self-interest and friendship dictated that he seek some other way of obtaining Johnson’s services. A talk with Bullock finally brought about the present legal union, which had now lasted for ten years.

With Rider came Gordon Roderick, Lord Stane, eldest son of the Earl of Stane. At that time Stane was fresh from Cambridge and, his father thought, properly equipped to succeed to the paternal dignities. Actually, however, because of certain quirks and idiosyncrasies of temperament, the young man was more concerned with the practical and decidedly unhistoric phases of the world about him. He had come into the world just when the luster and supremacy of mere title were not only being questioned but, in many instances, overshadowed by financial genius. At Cambridge he was an interested student of economics, politics, sociology, and inclined to give ear to the socialists of the Fabian school, without by any means losing consciousness of his prospective inheritance. Encountering Rider, himself interested almost solely in the immense companies which he was constantly being called upon to represent, Stane was easily converted to Rider’s view that the real lords of the future would be financiers. What the world needed was advanced material equipment, and the financier who devoted himself to supplying that need would be the greatest factor in society’s progression.

It was with such thoughts in his mind that Stane pursued the study of English company law in the office of Rider, Bullock, Johnson & Chance. And one of his chief intimacies was with Elverson Johnson. In Johnson he saw a shrewd commoner with a determination to rise to high places, while in Stane, Johnson recognized an inheritor of social and financial privilege who yet chose to inform and bestir himself in practical pursuits.

Both Johnson and Stane had from the first recognized the enormous possibilities of the London underground traction field, and their interest was by no means confined to the formation of the Traffic Electrical Company, of which, in its origin, they formed the nucleus. When the City and South London, with its up-to-date construction, was first proposed, they and their friends put money into it, with the understanding that a combination of the two old lines then threading the heart of London — the Metropolitan and the District — was to be considered. Like Demosthenes addressing the Athenians, Johnson persisted in his belief that whoever could find the money to pick up enough of the ordinary stock of these two lines to provide a 51 per cent control, could calmly announce himself in charge and thereafter do as he pleased with them.

After his father’s death, Stane and some of his friends, together with Johnson, sought to buy a control of the ordinary stock of the District, hoping in this way to gain control of both roads, but it had all proven too much for them. There was too much stock outstanding, and they could not get together enough money. Therefore, since the management was unprogressive and the stock did not pay well, they had resold a large part of what they had acquired.

And as for the still unconstructed Charing Cross line, to promote which they had formed the Traffic Electrical Company, they had never been able to raise enough money or resell enough of the printed shares to provide the £1,660,000 needed to build it. At last, through Greaves and Henshaw, they had been seeking to find a financier, or group of financiers, who would either take this Charing Cross line off their hands or unite with them in their dream to take over the Metropolitan and the District.

But so far, nothing had come of this. Johnson by this time was forty-seven and Lord Stane forty, and both had become a little weary and more than slightly dubious of this great task.

Chapter 19

Into this situation, and into the office of Elverson Johnson, enter Mr. Jarkins and Mr. Kloorfain, desiring to confer with Mr. Johnson on a highly important matter. It related to the Messrs. Greaves and Henshaw, who had recently gone to New York, as Mr. Johnson probably knew, to confer with their client, Mr. Frank Cowperwood, whom Mr. Johnson knew, of course.

Mr. Johnson admitted that he had heard of him. And what could he do for these gentlemen?

It was one of London’s best spring mornings. Sunshine poured down on the cobbled Roman pavement below. Johnson, when they entered, had been stirring in a basket of briefs relating to a certain damage suit against the City and South London. And he was in a cheerful mood because the day was warm and bright; there had been a slight rise in the shares of the District; and a very earnest speech which he had delivered the day before to the International Epworth League had been favorably mentioned by not less than two of the morning papers.

«I’ll be as brief as possible,» began Jarkins, who, arrayed in a gray suit, a gray silk shirt, a brilliant blue and white tie, a derby and a cane in his hand, was surveying Johnson with an inquiring eye, and deciding that his task would not be easy. Johnson was plainly a canny individual.

«You must understand, of course, Mr. Johnson,» went on Jarkins, smiling his best smile, «this visit of ours is unauthorized as far as Mr. Cowperwood is concerned. But I believe you will grant the importance of it, just the same. As you know, Greaves and Henshaw have been dealing with Traffic Electrical, for which I believe you act as solicitor.»

«One of the solicitors,» said Mr. Johnson, cautiously. «But it has been some time since I’ve been consulted by them.»

«Quite so, quite so,» returned Jarkins, «but I think you will be interested, nevertheless. You see, ours was the firm that brought Greaves and Henshaw and Mr. Cowperwood together. As you know, Mr. Cowperwood is an extremely wealthy man. He has been active in all kinds of traction matters in America. And he is rumored to be closing out his Chicago holdings for not less than twenty millions.»

At the mention of this sum, Mr. Johnson pricked up his ears. Traffic was traffic — Chicago, London, or elsewhere — and a man who knew enough about it to have extracted twenty million dollars out of it must have some definite knowledge of what he was about. His interest was immediately apparent to Jarkins.

«That may be true,» bluffed Mr. Johnson, a little testily, and seemingly unimpressed, «but just what has that to do with me? You must remember that I am merely one of the solicitors for Traffic Electrical, and have nothing whatsoever to do with either Mr. Greaves or Mr. Henshaw.»

«But you are interested in the London underground situation in general, or so Mr. Kloorfain tells me,» persisted Jarkins. «That is,» he added diplomatically, «you represent people who are interested in the development of the underground system.»

«I ventured to mention the fact, Mr. Johnson,» interpolated Kloorfain here, «that you are referred to from time to time in the newspapers as representing the Metropolitan and the District, as well as the City and South London and the Central of London.»

«That is true,» returned Johnson, seemingly calm and reassured. «I do represent those companies in a legal way. But I’m still not clear as to what you wish. If it relates to the purchase or sale of anything in connection with the Charing Cross and Hampstead line, I am certainly not the person to see.»

«If you will bear with me for just a minute,» persisted Jarkins, leaning closer to Johnson. «The point is just this: that Mr. Cowperwood is divesting himself of all his Chicago street railway holdings, and without those to employ him, he will have nothing to do. He is not the kind of man who would want to quit. He has been working in Chicago, you know, for over twenty-five years. I don’t mean he is running after an investment of any kind. Mr. Greaves and Mr. Henshaw found that out. They were brought to him by our firm: Jarkins, Kloorfain & Randolph. Mr. Kloorfain here is in charge of our London branch.»

Johnson nodded and now listened attentively.

«Of course,» continued Jarkins, «neither Mr. Kloorfain nor myself has the least authority from Mr. Cowperwood to speak for him. But we feel there is something in this London situation which, if put before him by the right person in the right way, might bring about something of great value to whomsoever was connected with it. For I know it to be a fact that Mr. Cowperwood rejected this Charing Cross line, not because he thought it might not pay, but because he was not offered a 51 per cent control, which he always insists on. And then, too, it appeared to him to be just a short branch line which had no important connection with the underground system as a whole, and so could only be operated as a small separate property. He is interested only in the traffic problems of an entire city.»

Jarkins’ voice now took on a note of flattery.

«I asked Mr. Kloorfain,» he said, smoothly, «to take me to the one man who would know most about the London underground situation and grasp the importance of interesting Mr. Cowperwood. For if we understand things correctly,» and here he eyed Mr. Johnson almost ominously, «we feel that the time has come to unify and modernize the entire system, and it is pretty well known that Mr. Cowperwood is a genius in the traction field. He is to be in London shortly, and we feel he should be met and talked to by someone who could make him see the need here for a man like him.

«If you do not care to go into the matter, Mr. Johnson,» and here Jarkins was thinking of Stane and his rumored connections, «you may know someone who would, and perhaps advise us in regard to that person. Of course, we are brokers, and we would like to see Mr. Cowperwood interested, in order that we might come in for our share of the brokerage, which is naturally part of an undertaking like this.»

Johnson sat at his desk and stared, not at either Jarkins or Kloorfain, but at the floor.

«Ahem!» he began. «Mr. Cowperwood is an American multimillionaire. He has had enormous experience in running street railways and elevated roads, I believe, in Chicago and elsewhere. I am supposed to interest him in solving the London underground problem. And if I do, I am supposed to pay you — or at least see that you are paid — for getting Mr. Cowperwood to help some other Londoners interested in the traction field to make money.» He looked up, eyebrows lifted, while Jarkins stared knowingly but without deigning to comment.

«Very practical, I must say,» continued Johnson, «and I don’t doubt there are quite a few who might be benefited, and, again, who might not be. London underground problems are very great. Too many lines already planned, too many different companies to be harmonized, too many acts already acquired by speculators and promoters without a shilling between them.» He stared depressingly at the two men. «A great deal of money would be required, millions of pounds, not less than twenty-five millions, I should say.» He pressed his hands together almost sadly, so great was the financial weight of all this, «Of course, we are not unaware of Mr. Cowperwood over here. If I am not mistaken, there have been charges of various kinds made against him in Chicago — charges, I will admit, that should not stand in the way of the prosecution of a great public enterprise such as you two gentlemen are suggesting — but still, considering the conservatism of the English public…»

«Oh, you mean those political charges against his financial methods in Chicago,» interjected Jarkins defiantly at this point. «Merely politics, the work of financial rivals, jealous because of his success.»

«I know, I know,» interrupted Mr. Johnson, still depressively. «Financial men everywhere naturally understand and discount that sort of opposition. At the same time, he would meet with opposition here. For this is a very conservative and tight little island. And we do not like outsiders to come in and manage our affairs for us. However, as you say, Mr. Cowperwood is plainly a very able and resourceful man. Whether there are people here who might care to join with him, I cannot say. Certainly I know that there are few, if any, who would be willing to grant him the sole financial control of such a system as you speak of,» and here he got up and brushed from his trousers and waistcoat some flecks of imaginary dust. «He has, you say, rejected the Greaves and Henshaw offer?» he added.

«He has,» echoed both Jarkins and Kloorfain.

«But what were their exact terms?»

Jarkins explained.

«I see, I see. So they wished to retain their contract and 50 per cent. Well, until I have had time to think about this and consult with one or two of my associates, I shall be unable to offer an opinion one way or the other. However,» he added, «it may be worth while for some of the leading investors to talk with him when he gets here.»

Actually, by now, Johnson was of the opinion that Cowperwood was sending these two men about to spy out the situation. In addition, however, he was doubtful as to whether Cowperwood, being an American, and however great his wealth, would ever be able to wrest from the present management even so much as a 50 per cent division. It would be extremely difficult for him to enter this field. At the same time, considering his own and Stane’s investments, and the Charing Cross still likely to be thrown back on Traffic Electrical, and so bring about the loss of more money for its investors, well…

He addressed the two men now in a tone of finality.

«I shall have to think the matter over, gentlemen. Call me again, say next Tuesday or Wednesday, and I will tell you finally whether I can be of help to you.»

And with that he led the way to the door and pulled a bell in order that an office boy might show his visitors to the street door. After they had gone, he walked to one of the windows that looked down into the ancient court, where the April sun was still brightly shining. He had a habit, when thinking, of placing his tongue in his cheek and clasping his hands in a prayerful position, fingers down. In this instance he stood so for some time, staring out the window.

And outside in Storey Street, Kloorfain and Jarkins were saying, one to the other: «Excellent! Very shrewd fellow, that… but really interested… it’s a way out for them, if only they have the sense to see it…»

«But that Chicago business! I knew it would come up!» exclaimed Jarkins. «It always does: that prison record of his, or his interest in women… as though that made any difference in this case.»

«Stupid! Unbelievably stupid!» echoed Kloorfain.

«Just the same, something will have to be done about it. We’ll have to fix the press some way,» said Jarkins.

«Let me tell you one thing,» concluded Kloorfain. «If any of these wealthy people over here should go into this with Cowperwood, they’d soon close down on all unfavorable publicity. Our laws are different from yours, you know. Here, the truer the scandal, the more libelous it is. And it becomes very dangerous to say anything unless the biggest people want it said. In your country, apparently, it’s just the other way. But I know most of the financial editors on the papers here, and if it should become necessary to hush things up, I think it could be arranged.»

Chapter 20

The sum total of what Jarkins and Kloorfain achieved in their approach to Johnson was well set forth in a conversation which took place that same afternoon between Johnson and Lord Stane in Stane’s office on the ground floor of the Storey Street building.

It should be said, in this connection, that it was Johnson’s commercial honesty and his utterly practical ideas that caused Stane to prize him. For Johnson, as Stane always told himself, was the embodiment of a self-conscious religious and moral rectitude which would not allow him to err too far on the side of cunning and sheer legal trickery, however much he might be tempted to gain success for himself. A stickler for the law, he could still search for all the loopholes with the intention of using them, either to his own advantage or the discomfiture of his adversaries. «His honor compels him to keep books, but it allows him to send out large due bills,» someone had once said of him. And Stane accepted that as a fair picture. At the same time, he liked him for his very eccentricities and quite frequently laughed over his seemingly honest interest in the International Epworth League, its Sunday-school conventions, and his rigid adherence to a total abstinence from liquor in any form. In money matters, he was not petty. He gave quite liberally for the size of his income to churches, Sunday schools, hospitals, and a Southwark institute for the blind, of which he was one of the board of managers and also its unpaid counsel.

For Stane personally, and for a very modest charge, Johnson looked after his investments, insurance rates, and whatsoever legal problems might beset him. They also discussed together politics and the world’s international problems, and usually, as Stane noted, Johnson remained quite close to reality in all matters. Of art, architecture, poetry, letters, women, and the non-acquisitive and purely social pleasures, however, he knew nothing. He once confessed to Stane years before, when both were much younger, that he had no head for such things. «I was brought up under circumstances which did not permit my knowing anything about them,» he said. «It pleases me, of course, to see my boys at Eton and my girl at Bedford, and personally I would not deny them any social tastes they may develop. But as for myself, well, I am a solicitor, and very glad to be as well placed as I am.»

Young Stane had smiled, for he liked the rugged realism of this statement. At the same time, he was content that they should travel different social levels, with only now and then an invitation on the part of Stane to Johnson to visit his family estate in Tregasal or his handsome old house in Berkeley Square, but nearly always on business.

On this particular occasion Johnson found Stane reclining in a round-armed, high-backed, comfortable Chippendale chair, his long legs stretched out and his feet on the heavy mahogany desk before him. He was wearing well-cut tweeds, sand-colored, a light coffee-colored shirt and a dark orange tie, and from time to time he nonchalantly flicked the ashes from a cigarette he was smoking. He was studying a De Beers South African Diamond Mine report, in which company he was personally interested. Some twenty shares he held, as he reflected, were yielding him approximately two hundred pounds annually. He had a long, sallow face, with a large and slightly beaked nose, low forehead, sharp dark eyes, and a large and decidedly genial mouth and slightly defiant chin.

«So there you are!» he called out as Johnson entered after knocking at the door. «Well, what’s up with you now, you honest old Methodist. I read something, this morning, about that address of yours, in Stickney, I believe.»