The Financier a novel by Theodore Dreiser

 
 

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Chapter XXIX 
But time was not a thing to be had in this emergency. With the seventy-five 
thousand dollars his friends had extended to him, and sixty thousand 
dollars secured from Stires, Cowperwood met the Girard call and placed the 
balance, thirty-five thousand dollars, in a private safe in his own home. He 
then made a final appeal to the bankers and financiers, but they refused to 
help him. He did not, however, commiserate himself in this hour. He looked 
out of his office window into the little court, and sighed. What more could he 
do? He sent a note to his father, asking him to call for lunch. He sent a note 
to his lawyer, Harper Steger, a man of his own age whom he liked very 
much, and asked him to call also. He evolved in his own mind various plans 
of delay, addresses to creditors and the like, but alas! he was going to fail. 
And the worst of it was that this matter of the city treasurer's loans was 
bound to become a public, and more than a public, a political, scandal. And 
the charge of conniving, if not illegally, at least morally, at the misuse of the 
city's money was the one thing that would hurt him most. 
How industriously his rivals would advertise this fact! He might get on his 
feet again if he failed; but it would be uphill work. And his father! His father 
would be pulled down with him. It was probable that he would be forced out 
of the presidency of his bank. With these thoughts Cowperwood sat there 
waiting. As he did so Aileen Butler was announced by his office-boy, and at 
the same time Albert Stires. 
"Show in Miss Butler," he said, getting up. "Tell Mr. Stires to wait." Aileen 
came briskly, vigorously in, her beautiful body clothed as decoratively as 
ever. The street suit that she wore was of a light golden-brown broadcloth, 
faceted with small, dark-red buttons. Her head was decorated with a 
brownish-red shake of a type she had learned was becoming to her, brimless 
and with a trailing plume, and her throat was graced by a three-strand 
necklace of gold beads. Her hands were smoothly gloved as usual, and her 
little feet daintily shod. There was a look of girlish distress in her eyes, 
which, however, she was trying hard to conceal. 
"Honey," she exclaimed, on seeing him, her arms extended—"what is the 
trouble? I wanted so much to ask you the other night. You're not going to 
fail, are you? I heard father and Owen talking about you last night." 
"What did they say?" he inquired, putting his arm around her and looking 
quietly into her nervous eyes. 
"Oh, you know, I think papa is very angry with you. He suspects. Some one 
sent him an anonymous letter. He tried to get it out of me last night, but he 
didn't succeed. I denied everything. I was in here twice this morning to see 

---

you, but you were out. I was so afraid that he might see you first, and that 
you might say something." 
"Me, Aileen?" 
"Well, no, not exactly. I didn't think that. I don't know what I thought. Oh, 
honey, I've been so worried. You know, I didn't sleep at all. I thought I was 
stronger than that; but I was so worried about you. You know, he put me in 
a strong light by his desk, where he could see my face, and then he showed 
me the letter. I was so astonished for a moment I hardly know what I said or 
how I looked." 
"What did you say?" 
"Why, I said: 'What a shame! It isn't so!' But I didn't say it right away. My 
heart was going like a trip-hammer. I'm afraid he must have been able to tell 
something from my face. I could hardly get my breath." 
"He's a shrewd man, your father," he commented. "He knows something 
about life. Now you see how difficult these situations are. It's a blessing he 
decided to show you the letter instead of watching the house. I suppose he 
felt too bad to do that. He can't prove anything now. But he knows. You 
can't deceive him." 
"How do you know he knows?" 
"I saw him yesterday." 
"Did he talk to you about it?" 
"No; I saw his face. He simply looked at me." 
"Honey! I'm so sorry for him!" 
"I know you are. So am I. But it can't be helped now. We should have 
thought of that in the first place." 
"But I love you so. Oh, honey, he will never forgive me. He loves me so. He 
mustn't know. I won't admit anything. But, oh, dear!" 
She put her hands tightly together on his bosom, and he looked consolingly 
into her eyes. Her eyelids, were trembling, and her lips. She was sorry for 
her father, herself, Cowperwood. Through her he could sense the force of 
Butler's parental affection; the volume and danger of his rage. There were so 
many, many things as he saw it now converging to make a dramatic 
denouement. 
"Never mind," he replied; "it can't be helped now. Where is my strong, 
determined Aileen? I thought you were going to be so brave? Aren't you 
going to be? I need to have you that way now." 
"Do you?" 

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"Yes." 
"Are you in trouble?" 
"I think I am going to fail, dear." 
"Oh, no!" 
"Yes, honey. I'm at the end of my rope. I don't see any way out just at 
present. I've sent for my father and my lawyer. You mustn't stay here, sweet. 
Your father may come in here at any time. We must meet somewhere—to-
morrow, say—to-morrow afternoon. You remember Indian Rock, out on the 
Wissahickon?" 
"Yes." 
"Could you be there at four?" 
"Yes." 
"Look out for who's following. If I'm not there by four-thirty, don't wait. You 
know why. It will be because I think some one is watching. There won't be, 
though, if we work it right. And now you must run, sweet. We can't use 
Nine-thirty-one any more. I'll have to rent another place somewhere else." 
"Oh, honey, I'm so sorry." 
"Aren't you going to be strong and brave? You see, I need you to be." 
He was almost, for the first time, a little sad in his mood. 
"Yes, dear, yes," she declared, slipping her arms under his and pulling him 
tight. "Oh, yes! You can depend on me. Oh, Frank, I love you so! I'm so 
sorry. Oh, I do hope you don't fail! But it doesn't make any difference, dear, 
between you and me, whatever happens, does it? We will love each other 
just the same. I'll do anything for you, honey! I'll do anything you say. You 
can trust me. They sha'n't know anything from me." 
She looked at his still, pale face, and a sudden strong determination to fight 
for him welled up in her heart. Her love was unjust, illegal, outlawed; but it 
was love, just the same, and had much of the fiery daring of the outcast 
from justice. 
"I love you! I love you! I love you, Frank!" she declared. He unloosed her 
hands. 
"Run, sweet. To-morrow at four. Don't fail. And don't talk. And don't admit 
anything, whatever you do." 
"I won't." 
"And don't worry about me. I'll be all right." 

---

He barely had time to straighten his tie, to assume a nonchalant attitude by 
the window, when in hurried Stener's chief clerk—pale, disturbed, obviously 
out of key with himself. 
"Mr. Cowperwood! You know that check I gave you last night? Mr. Stener 
says it's illegal, that I shouldn't have given it to you, that he will hold me 
responsible. He says I can be arrested for compounding a felony, and that 
he will discharge me and have me sent to prison if I don't get it back. Oh, 
Mr. Cowperwood, I am only a young man! I'm just really starting out in life. 
I've got my wife and little boy to look after. You won't let him do that to me? 
You'll give me that check back, won't you? I can't go back to the office 
without it. He says you're going to fail, and that you knew it, and that you 
haven't any right to it." 
Cowperwood looked at him curiously. He was surprised at the variety and 
character of these emissaries of disaster. Surely, when troubles chose to 
multiply they had great skill in presenting themselves in rapid order. Stener 
had no right to make any such statement. The transaction was not illegal. 
The man had gone wild. True, he, Cowperwood, had received an order after 
these securities were bought not to buy or sell any more city loan, but that 
did not invalidate previous purchases. Stener was browbeating and 
frightening his poor underling, a better man than himself, in order to get 
back this sixty-thousand-dollar check. What a petty creature he was! How 
true it was, as somebody had remarked, that you could not possibly 
measure the petty meannesses to which a fool could stoop! 
"You go back to Mr. Stener, Albert, and tell him that it can't be done. The 
certificates of loan were purchased before his order arrived, and the records 
of the exchange will prove it. There is no illegality here. I am entitled to that 
check and could have collected it in any qualified court of law. The man has 
gone out of his head. I haven't failed yet. You are not in any danger of any 
legal proceedings; and if you are, I'll help defend you. I can't give you the 
check back because I haven't it to give; and if I had, I wouldn't. That would 
be allowing a fool to make a fool of me. I'm sorry, very, but I can't do 
anything for you." 
"Oh, Mr. Cowperwood!" Tears were in Stires's eyes. "He'll discharge me! He'll 
forfeit my sureties. I'll be turned out into the street. I have only a little 
property of my own—outside of my salary!" 
He wrung his hands, and Cowperwood shook his head sadly. 
"This isn't as bad as you think, Albert. He won't do what he says. He can't. 
It's unfair and illegal. You can bring suit and recover your salary. I'll help 
you in that as much as I'm able. But I can't give you back this sixty-
thousand-dollar check, because I haven't it to give. I couldn't if I wanted to. 

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It isn't here any more. I've paid for the securities I bought with it. The 
securities are not here. They're in the sinking-fund, or will be." 
He paused, wishing he had not mentioned that fact. It was a slip of the 
tongue, one of the few he ever made, due to the peculiar pressure of the 
situation. Stires pleaded longer. It was no use, Cowperwood told him. Finally 
he went away, crestfallen, fearsome, broken. There were tears of suffering in 
his eyes. Cowperwood was very sorry. And then his father was announced. 
The elder Cowperwood brought a haggard face. He and Frank had had a 
long conversation the evening before, lasting until early morning, but it had 
not been productive of much save uncertainty. 
"Hello, father!" exclaimed Cowperwood, cheerfully, noting his father's gloom. 
He was satisfied that there was scarcely a coal of hope to be raked out of 
these ashes of despair, but there was no use admitting it. 
"Well?" said his father, lifting his sad eyes in a peculiar way. 
"Well, it looks like stormy weather, doesn't it? I've decided to call a meeting 
of my creditors, father, and ask for time. There isn't anything else to do. I 
can't realize enough on anything to make it worth while talking about. I 
thought Stener might change his mind, but he's worse rather than better. 
His head bookkeeper just went out of here." 
"What did he want?" asked Henry Cowperwood. 
"He wanted me to give him back a check for sixty thousand that he paid me 
for some city loan I bought yesterday morning." Frank did not explain to his 
father, however, that he had hypothecated the certificates this check had 
paid for, and used the check itself to raise money enough to pay the Girard 
National Bank and to give himself thirty-five thousand in cash besides. 
"Well, I declare!" replied the old man. "You'd think he'd have better sense 
than that. That's a perfectly legitimate transaction. When did you say he 
notified you not to buy city loan?" 
"Yesterday noon." 
"He's out of his mind," Cowperwood, Sr., commented, laconically. 
"It's Mollenhauer and Simpson and Butler, I know. They want my street-
railway lines. Well, they won't get them. They'll get them through a 
receivership, and after the panic's all over. Our creditors will have first 
chance at these. If they buy, they'll buy from them. If it weren't for that five-
hundred-thousand-dollar loan I wouldn't think a thing of this. My creditors 
would sustain me nicely. But the moment that gets noised around!... And 
this election! I hypothecated those city loan certificates because I didn't 
want to get on the wrong side of Davison. I expected to take in enough by 
now to take them up. They ought to be in the sinking-fund, really." 

---

The old gentleman saw the point at once, and winced. 
"They might cause you trouble, there, Frank." 
"It's a technical question," replied his son. "I might have been intending to 
take them up. As a matter of fact, I will if I can before three. I've been taking 
eight and ten days to deposit them in the past. In a storm like this I'm 
entitled to move my pawns as best I can." 
Cowperwood, the father, put his hand over his mouth again. He felt very 
disturbed about this. He saw no way out, however. He was at the end of his 
own resources. He felt the side-whiskers on his left cheek. He looked out of 
the window into the little green court. Possibly it was a technical question, 
who should say. The financial relations of the city treasury with other 
brokers before Frank had been very lax. Every banker knew that. Perhaps 
precedent would or should govern in this case. He could not say. Still, it was 
dangerous—not straight. If Frank could get them out and deposit them it 
would be so much better. 
"I'd take them up if I were you and I could," he added. 
"I will if I can." 
"How much money have you?" 
"Oh, twenty thousand, all told. If I suspend, though, I'll have to have a little 
ready cash." 
"I have eight or ten thousand, or will have by night, I hope." 
He was thinking of some one who would give him a second mortgage on his 
house. 
Cowperwood looked quietly at him. There was nothing more to be said to his 
father. "I'm going to make one more appeal to Stener after you leave here," 
he said. "I'm going over there with Harper Steger when he comes. If he won't 
change I'll send out notice to my creditors, and notify the secretary of the 
exchange. I want you to keep a stiff upper lip, whatever happens. I know you 
will, though. I'm going into the thing head down. If Stener had any sense—" 
He paused. "But what's the use talking about a damn fool?" 
He turned to the window, thinking of how easy it would have been, if Aileen 
and he had not been exposed by this anonymous note, to have arranged all 
with Butler. Rather than injure the party, Butler, in extremis, would have 
assisted him. Now...! 
His father got up to go. He was as stiff with despair as though he were 
suffering from cold. 
"Well," he said, wearily. 

---

Cowperwood suffered intensely for him. What a shame! His father! He felt a 
great surge of sorrow sweep over him but a moment later mastered it, and 
settled to his quick, defiant thinking. As the old man went out, Harper 
Steger was brought in. They shook hands, and at once started for Stener's 
office. But Stener had sunk in on himself like an empty gas-bag, and no 
efforts were sufficient to inflate him. They went out, finally, defeated. 
"I tell you, Frank," said Steger, "I wouldn't worry. We can tie this thing up 
legally until election and after, and that will give all this row a chance to die 
down. Then you can get your people together and talk sense to them. 
They're not going to give up good properties like this, even if Stener does go 
to jail." 
Steger did not know of the sixty thousand dollars' worth of hypothecated 
securities as yet. Neither did he know of Aileen Butler and her father's 
boundless rage.