Harper Steger was a tall, thin, graceful, rather elegant man, of gentle voice and perfect manners, who walked always as though he were a cat, and a dog were prowling somewhere in the offing.  He had a longish, thin face of a type that is rather attractive to women.  His eyes were blue, his hair brown, with a suggestion of sandy red in it.  He had a steady, inscrutable gaze which sometimes came to you over a thin, delicate hand, which he laid meditatively over his mouth.  He was cruel to the limit of the word, not aggressively but indifferently; for he had no faith in anything.  He was not poor.  He had not even been born poor.  He was just innately subtle, with the rather constructive thought, which was about the only thing that compelled him to work, that he ought to be richer than he was—­more conspicuous.  Cowperwood was an excellent avenue toward legal prosperity.  Besides, he was a fascinating customer.  Of all his clients, Steger admired Cowperwood most.

“Let them proceed against you,” he said on this occasion, his brilliant legal mind taking in all the phases of the situation at once.  “I don’t see that there is anything more here than a technical charge.  If it ever came to anything like that, which I don’t think it will, the charge would be embezzlement or perhaps larceny as bailee.  In this instance, you were the bailee.  And the only way out of that would be to swear that you had received the check with Stener’s knowledge and consent.  Then it would only be a technical charge of irresponsibility on your part, as I see it, and I don’t believe any jury would convict you on the evidence of how this relationship was conducted.  Still, it might; you never can tell what a jury is going to do.  All this would have to come out at a trial, however.  The whole thing, it seems to me, would depend on which of you two—­yourself or Stener—­the jury would be inclined to believe, and on how anxious this city crowd is to find a scapegoat for Stener.  This coming election is the rub.  If this panic had come at any other time—­”

Cowperwood waved for silence.  He knew all about that.  “It all depends on what the politicians decide to do.  I’m doubtful.  The situation is too complicated.  It can’t be hushed up.”  They were in his private office at his house.  “What will be will be,” he added.

“What would that mean, Harper, legally, if I were tried on a charge of larceny as bailee, as you put it, and convicted?  How many years in the penitentiary at the outside?”

Steger thought a minute, rubbing his chin with his hand.  “Let me see,” he said, “that is a serious question, isn’t it?  The law says one to five years at the outside; but the sentences usually average from one to three years in embezzlement cases.  Of course, in this case—­”

“I know all about that,” interrupted Cowperwood, irritably.  “My case isn’t any different from the others, and you know it.  Embezzlement is embezzlement if the politicians want to have it so.”  He fell to thinking, and Steger got up and strolled about leisurely.  He was thinking also.