city-loan transaction. It was a serious matter if he could 
not open his doors in the morning; and he couldn't. He 
was never left alone by a half-dozen of his helpful friends 
from then on until morning; but he had to suspend just 
the same. And when he did that he knew he was prac- 
tically defeated in this first brilliant race for wealth and 
Once, and once only, when he was really and finally 
quite alone in his private bedroom at four in the morning 
—he and his wife had always occupied separate rooms in 
the new house—he stared at himself in the mirror. His 
face was pale and tired, he thought, but strong and effec- 
tive. " Pshaw!" he said to himself, " I'm not whipped. 
I'll get out of this. Certainly I will. I'll find some way." 
And he began to undress, cogitating heavily, wearily. 
Finally he sank upon his bed, and in a little while, strange 
as it may seem, with all the tangle of trouble around 
him, slept. He could do that — sleep and gurgle most 
peacefully, the while his old father paced the floor in his 
room, refusing to be comforted. All was dark before the 
older man—the future hopeless. He turned wearily to 
and fro in his short space and sighed. Frank only turned 
once in his slumber, and he did not dream. He was in- 
tensely weary. 
Mrs. Frank Cowperwood in her room turned and 
tossed in the face of a new calamity. It had suddenly 
appeared from news from her father and Frank and Anna 
and her mother-in-law that Frank was about to fail, or 
would, or had—it was almost impossible to say just how 
it was. Frank was too busy to explain. The Chicago fire 
was to blame. There was no mention as yet of the city 
treasurership. Frank was caught in a trap, and was 
fighting for his life. 
In this crisis, for the moment, she forgot about the note 
as to his infidelity, or rather ignored it. She was as- 
tonished, frightened, dumfounded, confused. Her little, 
placid, beautiful world was going around in a dizzy ring.