The Titan 21 страница

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and cuffs and spoke with a nasal intonation.

Cowperwood had the customary overtures made by seemingly disinterested

parties endeavoring to secure the land at a fair price. But Purdy,

who was as stingy as a miser and as incisive as a rat-trap, had

caught wind of the proposed tunnel scheme. He was all alive for

a fine profit. " No, no, no, " he declared, over and over, when

approached by the representatives of Mr. Sylvester Toomey,

Cowperwood's ubiquitous land-agent. " I don't want to sell. Go

away. "

Mr. Sylvester Toomey was finally at his wit's end, and complained

to Cowperwood, who at once sent for those noble beacons of dark

and stormy waters, General Van Sickle and the Hon. Kent Barrows

McKibben. The General was now becoming a little dolty, and

Cowperwood was thinking of pensioning him; but McKibben was in his

prime--smug, handsome, deadly, smooth. After talking it over with

Mr. Toomey they returned to Cowperwood's office with a promising

scheme. The Hon. Nahum Dickensheets, one of the judges of the

State Court of Appeals, and a man long since attached, by methods

which need not here be described, to Cowperwood's star, had been

persuaded to bring his extensive technical knowledge to bear on

the emergency. At his suggestion the work of digging the tunnel

was at once begun--first at the east or Franklin Street end; then,

after eight months' digging, at the west or Canal Street end. A

shaft was actually sunk some thirty feet back of Mr. Purdy's

building--between it and the river--while that gentleman watched

with a quizzical gleam in his eye this defiant procedure. He was

sure that when it came to the necessity of annexing his property

the North and West Chicago Street Railways would be obliged to pay

through the nose.

" Well, I'll be cussed, " be frequently observed to himself, for he

could not see how his exaction of a pound of flesh was to be evaded,

and yet he felt strangely restless at times. Finally, when it

became absolutely necessary for Cowperwood to secure without further

delay this coveted strip, he sent for its occupant, who called in

pleasant anticipation of a profitable conversation; this should

be worth a small fortune to him.

" Mr. Purdy, " observed Cowperwood, glibly, " you have a piece of

land on the other side of the river that I need. Why don't you

sell it to me? Can't we fix this up now in some amicable way? "

He smiled while Purdy cast shrewd, wolfish glances about the place,

wondering how much he could really hope to exact. The building,

with all its interior equipment, land, and all, was worth in the

neighborhood of two hundred thousand dollars.

" Why should I sell? The building is a good building. It's as

useful to me as it would be to you. I'm making money out of it. "

" Quite true, " replied Cowperwood, " but I am willing to pay you a

fair price for it. A public utility is involved. This tunnel

will be a good thing for the West Side and any other land you may

own over there. With what I will pay you you can buy more land

in that neighborhood or elsewhere, and make a good thing out of

it. We need to put this tunnel just where it is, or I wouldn't

trouble to argue with you.

" That's just it, " replied Purdy, fixedly. " You've gone ahead and

dug your tunnel without consulting me, and now you expect me to

get out of the way. Well, I don't see that I'm called on to get

out of there just to please you. "

" But I'll pay you a fair price. "

" How much will you pay me? "

" How much do you want? "

Mr. Purdy scratched a fox-like ear. " One million dollars. "

" One million dollars! " exclaimed Cowperwood. " Don't you think

that's a little steep, Mr. Purdy? "

" No, " replied Purdy, sagely. " It's not any more than it's worth. "

Cowperwood sighed.

" I'm sorry, " he replied, meditatively, " but this is really too

much. Wouldn't you take three hundred thousand dollars in cash

now and consider this thing closed? "

" One million, " replied Purdy, looking sternly at the ceiling.

" Very well, Mr. Purdy, " replied Cowperwood. " I'm very sorry.

It's plain to me that we can't do business as I had hoped. I'm

willing to pay you a reasonable sum; but what you ask is far too

much--preposterous! Don't you think you'd better reconsider? We

might move the tunnel even yet. "

" One million dollars, " said Purdy.

" It can't be done, Mr. Purdy. It isn't worth it. Why won't you

be fair? Call it three hundred and twenty-five thousand dollars

cash, and my check to-night. "

" I wouldn't take five or six hundred thousand dollars if you were

to offer it to me, Mr. Cowperwood, to-night or any other time. I

know my rights. "

" Very well, then, " replied Cowperwood, " that's all I can say. If

you won't sell, you won't sell. Perhaps you'll change your mind

later. "

Mr. Purdy went out, and Cowperwood called in his lawyers and his

engineers. One Saturday afternoon, a week or two later, when the

building in question had been vacated for the day, a company of

three hundred laborers, with wagons, picks, shovels, and dynamite

sticks, arrived. By sundown of the next day (which, being Sunday,

was a legal holiday, with no courts open or sitting to issue

injunctions) this comely structure, the private property of Mr.

Redmond Purdy, was completely razed and a large excavation substituted

in its stead. The gentleman of the celluloid cuffs and collars,

when informed about nine o'clock of this same Sunday morning that

his building had been almost completely removed, was naturally

greatly perturbed. A portion of the wall was still standing when

he arrived, hot and excited, and the police were appealed to.

But, strange to say, this was of little avail, for they were shown

a writ of injunction issued by the court of highest jurisdiction,

presided over by the Hon. Nahum Dickensheets, which restrained

all and sundry from interfering. (Subsequently on demand of another

court this remarkable document was discovered to have disappeared;

the contention was that it had never really existed or been produced

at all. )

The demolition and digging proceeded. Then began a scurrying of

lawyers to the door of one friendly judge after another. There

were apoplectic cheeks, blazing eyes, and gasps for breath while

the enormity of the offense was being noised abroad. Law is law,

however. Procedure is procedure, and no writ of injunction was

either issuable or returnable on a legal holiday, when no courts

were sitting. Nevertheless, by three o'clock in the afternoon an

obliging magistrate was found who consented to issue an injunction

staying this terrible crime. By this time, however, the building

was gone, the excavation complete. It remained merely for the

West Chicago Street Railway Company to secure an injunction vacating

the first injunction, praying that its rights, privileges, liberties,

etc., be not interfered with, and so creating a contest which

naturally threw the matter into the State Court of Appeals, where

it could safely lie. For several years there were numberless

injunctions, writs of errors, doubts, motions to reconsider, threats

to carry the matter from the state to the federal courts on a

matter of constitutional privilege, and the like. The affair was

finally settled out of court, for Mr. Purdy by this time was a

more sensible man. In the mean time, however, the newspapers had

been given full details of the transaction, and a storm of words

against Cowperwood ensued.

But more disturbing than the Redmond Purdy incident was the rivalry

of a new Chicago street-railway company. It appeared first as an

idea in the brain of one James Furnivale Woolsen, a determined

young Westerner from California, and developed by degrees into

consents and petitions from fully two-thirds of the residents of

various streets in the extreme southwest section of the city where

it was proposed the new line should be located. This same James

Furnivale Woolsen, being an ambitious person, was not to be so

easily put down. Besides the consent and petitions, which Cowperwood

could not easily get away from him, he had a new form of traction

then being tried out in several minor cities--a form of electric

propulsion by means of an overhead wire and a traveling pole, which

was said to be very economical, and to give a service better than

cables and cheaper even than horses.

Cowperwood had heard all about this new electric system some time

before, and had been studying it for several years with the greatest

interest, since it promised to revolutionize the whole business

of street-railroading. However, having but so recently completed

his excellent cable system, he did not see that it was advisable

to throw it away. The trolley was as yet too much of a novelty;

certainly it was not advisable to have it introduced into Chicago

until he was ready to introduce it himself--first on his outlying

feeder lines, he thought, then perhaps generally.

But before he could take suitable action against Woolsen, that

engaging young upstart, who was possessed of a high-power imagination

and a gift of gab, had allied himself with such interested investors

as Truman Leslie MacDonald, who saw here a heaven-sent opportunity

of mulcting Cowperwood, and Jordan Jules, once the president of

the North Chicago Gas Company, who had lost money through Cowperwood

in the gas war. Two better instruments for goading a man whom

they considered an enemy could not well be imagined--Truman Leslie

with his dark, waspish, mistrustful, jealous eyes, and his slim,

vital body; and Jordan Jules, short, rotund, sandy, a sickly crop

of thin, oily, light hair growing down over his coat-collar, his

forehead and crown glisteningly bald, his eyes a seeking, searching,

revengeful blue. They in turn brought in Samuel Blackman, once

president of the South Side Gas Company; Sunderland Sledd, of local

railroad management and stock-investment fame; and Norrie Simms,

president of the Douglas Trust Company, who, however, was little

more than a fiscal agent. The general feeling was that Cowperwood's

defensive tactics--which consisted in having the city council

refuse to act--could be easily met.

" Well, I think we can soon fix that, " exclaimed young MacDonald,

one morning at a meeting. " We ought to be able to smoke them out.

A little publicity will do it. "

He appealed to his father, the editor of the Inquirer, but the

latter refused to act for the time being, seeing that his son was

interested. MacDonald, enraged at the do-nothing attitude of the

council, invaded that body and demanded of Alderman Dowling, still

leader, why this matter of the Chicago general ordinances was still

lying unconsidered. Mr. Dowling, a large, mushy, placid man with

blue eyes, an iron frame, and a beefy smile, vouchsafed the

information that, although he was chairman of the committee on

streets and alleys, he knew nothing about it. " I haven't been

payin' much attention to things lately, " he replied.

Mr. MacDonald went to see the remaining members of this same

committee. They were non-committal. They would have to look into

the matter. Somebody claimed that there was a flaw in the petitions.

Evidently there was crooked work here somewhere. Cowperwood was

to blame, no doubt. MacDonald conferred with Blackman and Jordan

Jules, and it was determined that the council should be harried

into doing its duty. This was a legitimate enterprise. A new and

better system of traction was being kept out of the city. Schryhart,

since he was offered an interest, and since there was considerable

chance of his being able to dominate the new enterprise, agreed

that the ordinances ought to be acted upon. In consequence there

was a renewed hubbub in the newspapers.

It was pointed out through Schryhart's Chronicle, through Hyssop's

and Merrill's papers, and through the Inquirer that such a situation

was intolerable. If the dominant party, at the behest of so

sinister an influence as Cowperwood, was to tie up all outside

traction legislation, there could be but one thing left--an appeal

to the voters of the city to turn the rascals out. No party could

survive such a record of political trickery and financial jugglery.

McKenty, Dowling, Cowperwood, and others were characterized as

unreasonable obstructionists and debasing influences. But Cowperwood

merely smiled. These were the caterwaulings of the enemy. Later,

when young MacDonald threatened to bring legal action to compel

the council to do its duty, Cowperwood and his associates were not

so cheerful. A mandamus proceeding, however futile, would give

the newspapers great opportunity for chatter; moreover, a city

election was drawing near. However, McKenty and Cowperwood were

by no means helpless. They had offices, jobs, funds, a well-organized

party system, the saloons, the dives, and those dark chambers where

at late hours ballot-boxes are incontinently stuffed.

Did Cowperwood share personally in all this? Not at all. Or McKenty?

No. In good tweed and fine linen they frequently conferred in the

offices of the Chicago Trust Company, the president's office of

the North Chicago Street Railway System, and Mr. Cowperwood's

library. No dark scenes were ever enacted there. But just the

same, when the time came, the Schryhart-Simms-MacDonald editorial

combination did not win. Mr. McKenty's party had the votes. A

number of the most flagrantly debauched aldermen, it is true, were

defeated; but what is an alderman here and there? The newly elected

ones, even in the face of pre-election promises and vows, could

be easily suborned or convinced. So the anti-Cowperwood element

was just where it was before; but the feeling against him was much

stronger, and considerable sentiment generated in the public at

large that there was something wrong with the Cowperwood method

of street-railway control.

Chapter XXXI

Untoward Disclosures

Coincident with these public disturbances and of subsequent hearing

upon them was the discovery by Editor Haguenin of Cowperwood's

relationship with Cecily. It came about not through Aileen, who

was no longer willing to fight Cowperwood in this matter, but

through Haguenin's lady society editor, who, hearing rumors in the

social world, springing from heaven knows where, and being beholden

to Haguenin for many favors, had carried the matter to him in a

very direct way. Haguenin, a man of insufficient worldliness in

spite of his journalistic profession, scarcely believed it.

Cowperwood was so suave, so commercial. He had heard many things

concerning him--his past--but Cowperwood's present state in Chicago

was such, it seemed to him, as to preclude petty affairs of this

kind. Still, the name of his daughter being involved, he took the

matter up with Cecily, who under pressure confessed. She made the

usual plea that she was of age, and that she wished to live her

own life--logic which she had gathered largely from Cowperwood's

attitude. Haguenin did nothing about it at first, thinking to

send Cecily off to an aunt in Nebraska; but, finding her intractable,

and fearing some counter-advice or reprisal on the part of Cowperwood,

who, by the way, had indorsed paper to the extent of one hundred

thousand dollars for him, he decided to discuss matters first.

It meant a cessation of relations and some inconvenient financial

readjustments; but it had to be. He was just on the point of

calling on Cowperwood when the latter, unaware as yet of the latest

development in regard to Cecily, and having some variation of his

council programme to discuss with Haguenin, asked him over the

'phone to lunch. Haguenin was much surprised, but in a way relieved.

" I am busy, " he said, very heavily, " but cannot you come to the

office some time to-day? There is something I would like to see

you about. "

Cowperwood, imagining that there was some editorial or local

political development on foot which might be of interest to him,

made an appointment for shortly after four. He drove to the

publisher's office in the Press Building, and was greeted by a

grave and almost despondent man.

" Mr. Cowperwood, " began Haguenin, when the financier entered, smart

and trig, his usual air of genial sufficiency written all over

him, " I have known you now for something like fourteen years, and

during this time I have shown you nothing but courtesy and good

will. It is true that quite recently you have done me various

financial favors, but that was more due, I thought, to the sincere

friendship you bore me than to anything else. Quite accidentally

I have learned of the relationship that exists between you and my

daughter. I have recently spoken to her, and she admitted all

that I need to know. Common decency, it seems to me, might have

suggested to you that you leave my child out of the list of women

you have degraded. Since it has not, I merely wish to say to

you" --and Mr. Haguenin's face was very tense and white--" that the

relationship between you and me is ended. The one hundred thousand

dollars you have indorsed for me will be arranged for otherwise

as soon as possible, and I hope you will return to me the stock

of this paper that you hold as collateral. Another type of man,

Mr. Cowperwood, might attempt to make you suffer in another way.

I presume that you have no children of your own, or that if you

have you lack the parental instinct; otherwise you could not have

injured me in this fashion. I believe that you will live to see

that this policy does not pay in Chicago or anywhere else. "

Haguenin turned slowly on his heel toward his desk. Cowperwood,

who had listened very patiently and very fixedly, without a tremor

of an eyelash, merely said: " There seems to be no common intellectual

ground, Mr. Haguenin, upon which you and I can meet in this matter.

You cannot understand my point of view. I could not possibly adopt

yours. However, as you wish it, the stock will be returned to

you upon receipt of my indorsements. I cannot say more than that. "

He turned and walked unconcernedly out, thinking that it was too

bad to lose the support of so respectable a man, but also that he

could do without it. It was silly the way parents insisted on

their daughters being something that they did not wish to be.

Haguenin stood by his desk after Cowperwood had gone, wondering

where he should get one hundred thousand dollars quickly, and also

what he should do to make his daughter see the error of her ways.

It was an astonishing blow he had received, he thought, in the

house of a friend. It occurred to him that Walter Melville Hyssop,

who was succeeding mightily with his two papers, might come to his

rescue, and that later he could repay him when the Press was more

prosperous. He went out to his house in a quandary concerning

life and chance; while Cowperwood went to the Chicago Trust Company

to confer with Videra, and later out to his own home to consider

how he should equalize this loss. The state and fate of Cecily

Haguenin was not of so much importance as many other things on his

mind at this time.

Far more serious were his cogitations with regard to a liaison he

had recently ventured to establish with Mrs. Hosmer Hand, wife of

an eminent investor and financier. Hand was a solid, phlegmatic,

heavy-thinking person who had some years before lost his first

wife, to whom he had been eminently faithful. After that, for a

period of years he had been a lonely speculator, attending to his

vast affairs; but finally because of his enormous wealth, his

rather presentable appearance and social rank, he had been entrapped

by much social attention on the part of a Mrs. Jessie Drew Barrett

into marrying her daughter Caroline, a dashing skip of a girl who

was clever, incisive, calculating, and intensely gay. Since she

was socially ambitious, and without much heart, the thought of

Hand's millions, and how advantageous would be her situation in

case he should die, had enabled her to overlook quite easily his

heavy, unyouthful appearance and to see him in the light of a

lover. There was criticism, of course. Hand was considered a

victim, and Caroline and her mother designing minxes and cats; but

since the wealthy financier was truly ensnared it behooved friends

and future satellites to be courteous, and so they were. The

wedding was very well attended. Mrs. Hand began to give house-parties,

teas, musicales, and receptions on a lavish scale.

Cowperwood never met either her or her husband until he was well

launched on his street-car programme. Needing two hundred and

fifty thousand dollars in a hurry, and finding the Chicago Trust

Company, the Lake City Bank, and other institutions heavily loaded

with his securities, he turned in a moment of inspirational thought

to Hand. Cowperwood was always a great borrower. His paper was

out in large quantities. He introduced himself frequently to

powerful men in this way, taking long or short loans at high or

low rates of interest, as the case might be, and sometimes finding

some one whom he could work with or use. In the case of Hand,

though the latter was ostensibly of the enemies' camp--the

Schryhart-Union-Gas-Douglas-Trust-Company crowd--nevertheless

Cowperwood had no hesitation in going to him. He wished to overcome

or forestall any unfavorable impression. Though Hand, a solemn

man of shrewd but honest nature, had heard a number of unfavorable

rumors, he was inclined to be fair and think the best. Perhaps

Cowperwood was merely the victim of envious rivals.

When the latter first called on him at his office in the Rookery

Building, he was most cordial. " Come in, Mr. Cowperwood, " he said.

" I have heard a great deal about you from one person and another

--mostly from the newspapers. What can I do for you? "

Cowperwood exhibited five hundred thousand dollars' worth of West

Chicago Street Railway stock. " I want to know if I can get two

hundred and fifty thousand dollars on those by to-morrow morning. "

Hand, a placid man, looked at the securities peacefully. " What's

the matter with your own bank? " He was referring to the Chicago

Trust Company. " Can't it take care of them for you? "

" Loaded up with other things just now, " smiled Cowperwood,

ingratiatingly.

" Well, if I can believe all the papers say, you're going to wreck

these roads or Chicago or yourself; but I don't live by the papers.

How long would you want it for? "

" Six months, perhaps. A year, if you choose. "

Hand turned over the securities, eying their gold seals. " Five

hundred thousand dollars' worth of six per cent. West Chicago

preferred, " he commented. " Are you earning six per cent.? "

" We're earning eight right now. You'll live to see the day when

these shares will sell at two hundred dollars and pay twelve per

cent. at that. "

" And you've quadrupled the issue of the old company? Well, Chicago's

growing. Leave them here until to-morrow or bring them back.

Send over or call me, and I'll tell you. "

They talked for a little while on street-railway and corporation

matters. Hand wanted to know something concerning West Chicago

land--a region adjoining Ravenswood. Cowperwood gave him his best

advice.

The next day he 'phoned, and the stocks, so Hand informed him,

were available. He would send a check over. So thus a tentative

friendship began, and it lasted until the relationship between

Cowperwood and Mrs. Hand was consummated and discovered.

In Caroline Barrett, as she occasionally preferred to sign herself,

Cowperwood encountered a woman who was as restless and fickle as

himself, but not so shrewd. Socially ambitious, she was anything

but socially conventional, and she did not care for Hand. Once

married, she had planned to repay herself in part by a very gay

existence. The affair between her and Cowperwood had begun at a

dinner at the magnificent residence of Hand on the North Shore

Drive overlooking the lake. Cowperwood had gone to talk over with

her husband various Chicago matters. Mrs. Hand was excited by his

risque reputation. A little woman in stature, with intensely white

teeth, red lips which she did not hesitate to rouge on occasion,

brown hair, and small brown eyes which had a gay, searching, defiant

twinkle in them, she did her best to be interesting, clever, witty,

and she was.

" I know Frank Cowperwood by reputation, anyhow, " she exclaimed,

holding out a small, white, jeweled hand, the nails of which at

their juncture with the flesh were tinged with henna, and the palms

of which were slightly rouged. Her eyes blazed, and her teeth

gleamed. " One can scarcely read of anything else in the Chicago

papers. "

Cowperwood returned his most winning beam. " I'm delighted to meet

you, Mrs. Hand. I have read of you, too. But I hope you don't

believe all the papers say about me. "

" And if I did it wouldn't hurt you in my estimation. To do is to

be talked about in these days. "

Cowperwood, because of his desire to employ the services of Hand,

was at his best. He kept the conversation within conventional

lines; but all the while he was exchanging secret, unobserved

smiles with Mrs. Hand, whom he realized at once had married Hand

for his money, and was bent, under a somewhat jealous espionage,

to have a good time anyhow. There is a kind of eagerness that

goes with those who are watched and wish to escape that gives them

a gay, electric awareness and sparkle in the presence of an

opportunity for release. Mrs. Hand had this. Cowperwood, a past

master in this matter of femininity, studied her hands, her hair,

her eyes, her smile. After some contemplation he decided, other

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