Part 24 (1/2)
For the present, however, he had to pretend an interest in saving the party at the polls.
”I can't speak for the Senator, that's sure,” pursued Mollenhauer, reflectively. ”I don't know what he may think. As for myself, I am perfectly willing to do what I can to keep up the price of stocks, if that will do any good. I would do so naturally in order to protect my loans. The thing that we ought to be thinking about, in my judgment, is how to prevent exposure, in case Mr. Cowperwood does fail, until after election. We have no a.s.surance, of course, that however much we support the market we will be able to sustain it.”
”We have not,” replied Butler, solemnly.
Owen thought he could see Cowperwood's approaching doom quite plainly.
At that moment the door-bell rang. A maid, in the absence of the footman, brought in the name of Senator Simpson.
”Just the man,” said Mollenhauer. ”Show him up. You can see what he thinks.”
”Perhaps I had better leave you alone now,” suggested Owen to his father. ”Perhaps I can find Miss Caroline, and she will sing for me.
I'll wait for you, father,” he added.
Mollenhauer cast him an ingratiating smile, and as he stepped out Senator Simpson walked in.
A more interesting type of his kind than Senator Mark Simpson never flourished in the State of Pennsylvania, which has been productive of interesting types. Contrasted with either of the two men who now greeted him warmly and shook his hand, he was physically unimpressive. He was small--five feet nine inches, to Mollenhauer's six feet and Butler's five feet eleven inches and a half, and then his face was smooth, with a receding jaw. In the other two this feature was prominent. Nor were his eyes as frank as those of Butler, nor as defiant as those of Mollenhauer; but for subtlety they were unmatched by either--deep, strange, receding, cavernous eyes which contemplated you as might those of a cat looking out of a dark hole, and suggesting all the artfulness that has ever distinguished the feline family. He had a strange mop of black hair sweeping down over a fine, low, white forehead, and a skin as pale and bluish as poor health might make it; but there was, nevertheless, resident here a strange, resistant, capable force that ruled men--the subtlety with which he knew how to feed cupidity with hope and gain and the ruthlessness with which he repaid those who said him nay. He was a still man, as such a man might well have been--feeble and fish-like in his handshake, wan and slightly lackadaisical in his smile, but speaking always with eyes that answered for every defect.
”Av'nin', Mark, I'm glad to see you,” was Butler's greeting.
”How are you, Edward?” came the quiet reply.
”Well, Senator, you're not looking any the worse for wear. Can I pour you something?”
”Nothing to-night, Henry,” replied Simpson. ”I haven't long to stay. I just stopped by on my way home. My wife's over here at the Cavanaghs', and I have to stop by to fetch her.”
”Well, it's a good thing you dropped in, Senator, just when you did,”
began Mollenhauer, seating himself after his guest. ”Butler here has been telling me of a little political problem that has arisen since I last saw you. I suppose you've heard that Chicago is burning?”
”Yes; Cavanagh was just telling me. It looks to be quite serious. I think the market will drop heavily in the morning.”
”I wouldn't be surprised myself,” put in Mollenhauer, laconically.
”Here's the paper now,” said Butler, as John, the servant, came in from the street bearing the paper in his hand. Mollenhauer took it and spread it out before them. It was among the earliest of the ”extras” that were issued in this country, and contained a rather impressive spread of type announcing that the conflagration in the lake city was growing hourly worse since its inception the day before.
”Well, that is certainly dreadful,” said Simpson. ”I'm very sorry for Chicago. I have many friends there. I shall hope to hear that it is not so bad as it seems.”
The man had a rather grandiloquent manner which he never abandoned under any circ.u.mstances.
”The matter that Butler was telling me about,” continued Mollenhauer, ”has something to do with this in a way. You know the habit our city treasurers have of loaning out their money at two per cent.?”
”Yes?” said Simpson, inquiringly.
”Well, Mr. Stener, it seems, has been loaning out a good deal of the city's money to this young Cowperwood, in Third Street, who has been handling city loans.”
”You don't say!” said Simpson, putting on an air of surprise. ”Not much, I hope?” The Senator, like Butler and Mollenhauer, was profiting greatly by cheap loans from the same source to various designated city depositories.
”Well, it seems that Stener has loaned him as much as five hundred thousand dollars, and if by any chance Cowperwood shouldn't be able to weather this storm, Stener is apt to be short that amount, and that wouldn't look so good as a voting proposition to the people in November, do you think? Cowperwood owes Mr. Butler here one hundred thousand dollars, and because of that he came to see him to-night. He wanted Butler to see if something couldn't be done through us to tide him over.
If not”--he waved one hand suggestively--”well, he might fail.”
Simpson fingered his strange, wide mouth with his delicate hand. ”What have they been doing with the five hundred thousand dollars?” he asked.