one hundred and thirty-five dollars—out of your future 
Nunnekamp had sold the horse to a passing peddler for 
forty dollars. 
He was led away, rolling his cap, uncertain, inefficient, 
not knowing what to think of his crime or his future. 
When it came to Cowperwood's turn to be called, his 
honor himself stiffened and straightened up, for this was 
a different type of man, and he could not be handled in the 
same way. Payderson became much more self-conscious. 
" Frank Algernon Cowperwood," called the clerk. 
Cowperwood stepped briskly forward as his name was 
called, sorry for himself, ashamed of his position, in a way, 
but showing it neither in look nor manner. He stood very 
straight in front of the gate, very simple-mannered, un- 
assuming, and yet courageous. Payderson eyed him as he 
had the others. 
" Name ?" asked the bailiff, for the benefit of the court 
" Frank Algernon Cowperwood." 
" Residence ?" 
" Nineteen hundred thirty-seven Girard Avenue." 
" Occupation ?" 
" Banker and broker." 
Cowperwood had been joined by Steger the moment he 
stepped forward, and the latter stood close beside him, 
very dignified, very forceful, ready to make a final state- 
ment for the benefit of the court and the public, when the 
time should come. Aileen from her position in the crowd 
near the door was for the first time in her life biting her 
fingers nervously, and there were great beads of perspira- 
tion on her brow. Cowperwood's father was tense with 
excitement, and his two brothers looked quickly away, 
doing their best to hide their fear and sorrow. 
" Ever convicted before ?" 
" Never," replied Steger for Cowperwood, quietly. 
" Frank Algernon Cowperwood," called the clerk, in