Another thing that made Cowperwood pause and consider at this time was a letter from Aileen, detailing a conversation which had taken place at the Butler dinner table one evening when Butler, the elder, was not at home.  She related how her brother Owen in effect had stated that they—­the politicians—­her father, Mollenhauer, and Simpson, were going to “get him yet” (meaning Cowperwood), for some criminal financial manipulation of something—­she could not explain what—­a check or something.  Aileen was frantic with worry.  Could they mean the penitentiary, she asked in her letter?  Her dear lover!  Her beloved Frank!  Could anything like this really happen to him?

His brow clouded, and he set his teeth with rage when he read her letter.  He would have to do something about this—­see Mollenhauer or Simpson, or both, and make some offer to the city.  He could not promise them money for the present—­only notes—­but they might take them.  Surely they could not be intending to make a scapegoat of him over such a trivial and uncertain matter as this check transaction!  When there was the five hundred thousand advanced by Stener, to say nothing of all the past shady transactions of former city treasurers!  How rotten!  How political, but how real and dangerous.

But Simpson was out of the city for a period of ten days, and Mollenhauer, having in mind the suggestion made by Butler in regard to utilizing Cowperwood’s misdeed for the benefit of the party, had already moved as they had planned.  The letters were ready and waiting.  Indeed, since the conference, the smaller politicians, taking their cue from the overlords, had been industriously spreading the story of the sixty-thousand-dollar check, and insisting that the burden of guilt for the treasury defalcation, if any, lay on the banker.  The moment Mollenhauer laid eyes on Cowperwood he realized, however, that he had a powerful personality to deal with.  Cowperwood gave no evidence of fright.  He merely stated, in his bland way, that he had been in the habit of borrowing money from the city treasury at a low rate of interest, and that this panic had involved him so that he could not possibly return it at present.

“I have heard rumors, Mr. Mollenhauer,” he said, “to the effect that some charge is to be brought against me as a partner with Mr. Stener in this matter; but I am hoping that the city will not do that, and I thought I might enlist your influence to prevent it.  My affairs are not in a bad way at all, if I had a little time to arrange matters.  I am making all of my creditors an offer of fifty cents on the dollar now, and giving notes at one, two, and three years; but in this matter of the city treasury loans, if I could come to terms, I would be glad to make it a hundred cents—­only I would want a little more time.  Stocks are bound to recover, as you know, and, barring my losses at this time, I will be all right.  I realize that the matter has gone pretty far already.  The newspapers