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"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 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
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