The Financier a novel by Theodore Dreiser

 
 

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Chapter XXXI 
The suspension of the banking house of Frank A. Cowperwood & Co. created 
a great stir on 'change and in Philadelphia generally. It was so unexpected, 
and the amount involved was comparatively so large. Actually he failed for 
one million two hundred and fifty thousand dollars; and his assets, under 
the depressed condition of stock values, barely totaled seven hundred and 
fifty thousand dollars. There had been considerable work done on the matter 
of his balance-sheet before it was finally given to the public; but when it 
was, stocks dropped an additional three points generally, and the papers the 
next day devoted notable headlines to it. Cowperwood had no idea of failing 
permanently; he merely wished to suspend temporarily, and later, if 
possible, to persuade his creditors to allow him to resume. There were only 
two things which stood in the way of this: the matter of the five hundred 
thousand dollars borrowed from the city treasury at a ridiculously low rate 
of interest, which showed plainer than words what had been going on, and 
the other, the matter of the sixty-thousand-dollar check. His financial wit 
had told him there were ways to assign his holdings in favor of his largest 
creditors, which would tend to help him later to resume; and he had been 
swift to act. Indeed, Harper Steger had drawn up documents which named 
Jay Cooke & Co., Edward Clark & Co., Drexel & Co., and others as 
preferred. He knew that even though dissatisfied holders of smaller shares 
in his company brought suit and compelled readjustment or bankruptcy 
later, the intention shown to prefer some of his most influential aids was 
important. They would like it, and might help him later when all this was 
over. Besides, suits in plenty are an excellent way of tiding over a crisis of 
this kind until stocks and common sense are restored, and he was for many 
suits. Harper Steger smiled once rather grimly, even in the whirl of the 
financial chaos where smiles were few, as they were figuring it out. 
"Frank," he said, "you're a wonder. You'll have a network of suits spread 
here shortly, which no one can break through. They'll all be suing each 
other." 
Cowperwood smiled. 
"I only want a little time, that's all," he replied. Nevertheless, for the first 
time in his life he was a little depressed; for now this business, to which he 
had devoted years of active work and thought, was ended. 
The thing that was troubling him most in all of this was not the five hundred 
thousand dollars which was owing the city treasury, and which he knew 
would stir political and social life to the center once it was generally 
known—that was a legal or semi-legal transaction, at least—but rather the 
matter of the sixty thousand dollars' worth of unrestored city loan 
certificates which he had not been able to replace in the sinking-fund and 

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could not now even though the necessary money should fall from heaven. 
The fact of their absence was a matter of source. He pondered over the 
situation a good deal. The thing to do, he thought, if he went to Mollenhauer 
or Simpson, or both (he had never met either of them, but in view of Butler's 
desertion they were his only recourse), was to say that, although he could 
not at present return the five hundred thousand dollars, if no action were 
taken against him now, which would prevent his resuming his business on a 
normal scale a little later, he would pledge his word that every dollar of the 
involved five hundred thousand dollars would eventually be returned to the 
treasury. If they refused, and injury was done him, he proposed to let them 
wait until he was "good and ready," which in all probability would be never. 
But, really, it was not quite clear how action against him was to be 
prevented—even by them. The money was down on his books as owing the 
city treasury, and it was down on the city treasury's books as owing from 
him. Besides, there was a local organization known as the Citizens' 
Municipal Reform Association which occasionally conducted investigations 
in connection with public affairs. His defalcation would be sure to come to 
the ears of this body and a public investigation might well follow. Various 
private individuals knew of it already. His creditors, for instance, who were 
now examining his books. 
This matter of seeing Mollenhauer or Simpson, or both, was important, 
anyhow, he thought; but before doing so he decided to talk it all over with 
Harper Steger. So several days after he had closed his doors, he sent for 
Steger and told him all about the transaction, except that he did not make it 
clear that he had not intended to put the certificates in the sinking-fund 
unless he survived quite comfortably. 
Harper Steger was a tall, thin, graceful, rather elegant man, of gentle voice 
and perfect manners, who walked always as though he were a cat, and a dog 
were prowling somewhere in the offing. He had a longish, thin face of a type 
that is rather attractive to women. His eyes were blue, his hair brown, with a 
suggestion of sandy red in it. He had a steady, inscrutable gaze which 
sometimes came to you over a thin, delicate hand, which he laid 
meditatively over his mouth. He was cruel to the limit of the word, not 
aggressively but indifferently; for he had no faith in anything. He was not 
poor. He had not even been born poor. He was just innately subtle, with the 
rather constructive thought, which was about the only thing that compelled 
him to work, that he ought to be richer than he was—more conspicuous. 
Cowperwood was an excellent avenue toward legal prosperity. Besides, he 
was a fascinating customer. Of all his clients, Steger admired Cowperwood 
most. 
"Let them proceed against you," he said on this occasion, his brilliant legal 
mind taking in all the phases of the situation at once. "I don't see that there 

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is anything more here than a technical charge. If it ever came to anything 
like that, which I don't think it will, the charge would be embezzlement or 
perhaps larceny as bailee. In this instance, you were the bailee. And the only 
way out of that would be to swear that you had received the check with 
Stener's knowledge and consent. Then it would only be a technical charge of 
irresponsibility on your part, as I see it, and I don't believe any jury would 
convict you on the evidence of how this relationship was conducted. Still, it 
might; you never can tell what a jury is going to do. All this would have to 
come out at a trial, however. The whole thing, it seems to me, would depend 
on which of you two—yourself or Stener—the jury would be inclined to 
believe, and on how anxious this city crowd is to find a scapegoat for Stener. 
This coming election is the rub. If this panic had come at any other time—" 
Cowperwood waved for silence. He knew all about that. "It all depends on 
what the politicians decide to do. I'm doubtful. The situation is too 
complicated. It can't be hushed up." They were in his private office at his 
house. "What will be will be," he added. 
"What would that mean, Harper, legally, if I were tried on a charge of larceny 
as bailee, as you put it, and convicted? How many years in the penitentiary 
at the outside?" 
Steger thought a minute, rubbing his chin with his hand. "Let me see," he 
said, "that is a serious question, isn't it? The law says one to five years at 
the outside; but the sentences usually average from one to three years in 
embezzlement cases. Of course, in this case—" 
"I know all about that," interrupted Cowperwood, irritably. "My case isn't 
any different from the others, and you know it. Embezzlement is 
embezzlement if the politicians want to have it so." He fell to thinking, and 
Steger got up and strolled about leisurely. He was thinking also. 
"And would I have to go to jail at any time during the proceedings—before a 
final adjustment of the case by the higher courts?" Cowperwood added, 
directly, grimly, after a time. 
"Yes, there is one point in all legal procedure of the kind," replied Steger, 
cautiously, now rubbing his ear and trying to put the matter as delicately as 
possible. "You can avoid jail sentences all through the earlier parts of a case 
like this; but if you are once tried and convicted it's pretty hard to do 
anything—as a matter of fact, it becomes absolutely necessary then to go to 
jail for a few days, five or so, pending the motion for a new trial and the 
obtaining of a certificate of reasonable doubt. It usually takes that long." 
The young banker sat there staring out of the window, and Steger observed, 
"It is a bit complicated, isn't it?" 

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"Well, I should say so," returned Frank, and he added to himself: "Jail! Five 
days in prison!" That would be a terrific slap, all things considered. Five 
days in jail pending the obtaining of a certificate of reasonable doubt, if one 
could be obtained! He must avoid this! Jail! The penitentiary! His 
commercial reputation would never survive that.