railways and speculative politicians were his undoing. 
Nevertheless, it was all over now—the possibility of recti- 
fying it. The milk was spilled. The old man walked the 
floor all of the days, realizing that his sun was setting, that 
with Frank's failure he failed, and that this disgrace— 
these public charges—meant his own undoing. His hair 
was very gray, his step slow, his face pallid, his eyes 
sunken. His rather showy side-whiskers looked tremen- 
dously out of place now. They seemed like flags or orna- 
ments of a better day that was gone. His only consola- 
tion in it all was that Frank had actually got out of his 
relationship with the Third National Bank without 
owing it a single dollar. Still the directors of that insti- 
tution realized that Frank had merely cleared up every- 
thing here in order to save his father. He would not 
have done so if his father had not been there. Anyhow, 
the bank could not possibly tolerate the presence of a 
man whose son had helped loot the city treasury, and 
whose name was now in the public prints in this con- 
nection. Besides, Cowperwood, Sr., was too old. He 
ought to retire. 
The crisis came for him when Frank was arrested on 
the embezzlement charge. The directors wanted Cow- 
perwood, Sr., to have sense enough and courtesy enough 
to take the initiative and resign at once. There was 
absolutely no hope of his remaining. Adam Davi, 
the first vice-president, realized it. There was a semi- 
concealed light of triumph in his eyes on the day the 
arrest happened. Cowperwood, Sr., realized that his 
hour had struck. He saw it all suggested in their faces. 
He hardly had the courage to go to the bank. It was 
like struggling under the weight of a heavy stone to do 
it. Still he went; but he wrote his resignation the next 
morning, after a sleepless night, to Frewen Kasson, the 
chairman of the board of directors. Nothing had been 
said to him. He wrote Mr. Kasson to come in, if it were 
possible, on this morning, and then he told him in a vague,