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whiskies and wines of various dates and cigars in profusion. Owen was the new type of young
financier who neither smoked nor drank. His father temperately did both.
"It's a comfortable place you have here," said Butler, without any indication of the important
mission that had brought him. "I don't wonder you stay at home Sunday evenings. What's new
in the city?"
"Nothing much, so far as I can see," replied Mollenhauer, pacifically. "Things seem to be
running smooth enough. You don't know anything that we ought to worry about, do you?"
"Well, yes," said Butler, draining off the remainder of a brandy and soda that had been prepared
for him. "One thing. You haven't seen an avenin' paper, have you?"
"No, I haven't," said Mollenhauer, straightening up. "Is there one out? What's the trouble
anyhow?"
"Nothing--except Chicago's burning, and it looks as though we'd have a little money-storm here
in the morning."
"You don't say! I didn't hear that. There's a paper out, is there? Well, well--is it much of a fire?"
"The city is burning down, so they say," put in Owen, who was watching the face of the
distinguished politician with considerable interest.
"Well, that is news. I must send out and get a paper. John!" he called. His man-servant
appeared. "See if you can get me a paper somewhere." The servant disappeared. "What makes
you think that would have anything to do with us?" observed Mollenhauer, returning to Butler.
"Well, there's one thing that goes with that that I didn't know till a little while ago and that is that
our man Stener is apt to be short in his accounts, unless things come out better than some
people seem to think," suggested Butler, calmly. "That might not look so well before election,
would it?" His shrewd gray Irish eyes looked into Mollenhauer's, who returned his gaze.
"Where did you get that?" queried Mr. Mollenhauer icily. "He hasn't deliberately taken much
money, has he? How much has he taken--do you know?"
"Quite a bit," replied Butler, quietly. "Nearly five hundred thousand, so I understand. Only I
wouldn't say that it has been taken as yet. It's in danger of being lost."
"Five hundred thousand!" exclaimed Mollenhauer in amazement, and yet preserving his usual
calm. "You don't tell me! How long has this been going on? What has he been doing with the
money?"
"He's loaned a good deal--about five hundred thousand dollars to this young Cowperwood in
Third Street, that's been handlin' city loan. They've been investin' it for themselves in one thing
and another--mostly in buyin' up street-railways." (At the mention of street-railways
Mollenhauer's impassive countenance underwent a barely perceptible change.) "This fire,
accordin' to Cowperwood, is certain to produce a panic in the mornin', and unless he gets
considerable help he doesn't see how he's to hold out. If he doesn't hold out, there'll be five
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