who were advised by Butler, Simpson, and Mollenhauer, 
that he would formally, during the course of the year, set 
over on the city's books all of the two millions in city loan, 
Cowperwood was delighted. It meant enormous transac- 
tions to and fro between himself and others. It was not 
exactly a legitimate matter. Certain officials expected to 
make money out of these manipulated rises and falls. But 
it was legal, anyhow. No criminal intention attached to 
him, and it certainly was not his money. He had been 
called in as a financial adviser, and he had given his ad- 
vice. Cowperwood was not a man who inherently was 
troubled with conscientious scruples. He believed he was 
financially honest. He was no sharper or shrewder than 
any other financier—certainly no sharper than any other 
one would be if he could. On the day he received word 
from Stener that he was to be given manipulative control 
of the full amount of city loan, he sent a note down 
the street to his father asking him to drive home with 
him, and on the way they discussed his wonderful future. 
The old gentleman had not heard any of the details of 
this before, and was dazzled. He looked upon his son 
as a very remarkable person—extraordinary He tried 
to be impartial, hoped he would be, but somehow his son 
seemed to know more and see farther. 
" What do you think of that, father ?" Frank asked, 
his own conclusions reached long before. 
The old gentleman weighed all the facts judicially, 
thinking that his own opinion was exceedingly impor- 
tant. He sat bolt upright as he drove, his hands incased 
in new leather driving-gloves, his body tightly fitted into 
a frock-coat. He wore a high silk hat, and his side- 
whiskers—mutton-chops they were derisively termed— 
were brushed out in little fluffy gray tufts. His eyebrows 
were heavy and shaded, and marked his eyes in a distinc- 
tive way. He had always a smoothly shaven face, the 
bare upper lip of which seemed long. 
" Why, it seems all right to me, Frank. You know