_ The very next day there called at Butler's office a long,
preternaturally solemn man of noticeable height and angularity,
dark-haired, dark-eyed, sallow, with a face that was long and
leathery, and particularly hawk-like, who talked with Butler for
over an hour and then departed. That evening he came to the
Butler house around dinner-time, and, being shown into Butler's
room, was given a look at Aileen by a ruse. Butler sent for her,
standing in the doorway just far enough to one side to yield a
good view of her. The detective stood behind one of the heavy
curtains which had already been put up for the winter, pretending
to look out into the street.
"Did any one drive Sissy this mornin'?" asked Butler of Aileen,
inquiring after a favorite family horse. Butler's plan, in case
the detective was seen, was to give the impression that he was a
horseman who had come either to buy or to sell. His name was Jonas
Alderson, and be looked sufficiently like a horsetrader to be one.
"I don't think so, father," replied Aileen. "I didn't. I'll find
out."
"Never mind. What I want to know is did you intend using her
to-morrow?"
"No, not if you want her. Jerry suits me just as well."
"Very well, then. Leave her in the stable." Butler quietly closed
the door. Aileen concluded at once that it was a horse conference.
She knew he would not dispose of any horse in which she was interested
without first consulting her, and so she thought no more about it.
After she was gone Alderson stepped out and declared that he was
satisfied. "That's all I need to know," he said. "I'll let you
know in a few days if I find out anything."
He departed, and within thirty-six hours the house and office of
Cowperwood, the house of Butler, the office of Harper Steger,
Cowperwood's lawyer, and Cowperwood and Aileen separately and
personally were under complete surveillance. It took six men to
do it at first, and eventually a seventh, when the second
meeting-place, which was located in South Sixth Street, was
discovered. All the detectives were from New York. In a week all
was known to Alderson. It bad been agreed between him and Butler
that if Aileen and Cowperwood were discovered to have any particular
rendezvous Butler was to be notified some time when she was there,
so that he might go immediately and confront her in person, if he
wished. He did not intend to kill Cowperwood--and Alderson would
have seen to it that he did not in his presence at least, but he
would give him a good tongue-lashing, fell him to the floor, in all
likelihood, and march Aileen away. There would be no more lying
on her part as to whether she was or was not going with Cowperwood.
She would not be able to say after that what she would or would not
do. Butler would lay down the law to her. She would reform, or
he would send her to a reformatory. Think of her influence on her
sister, or on any good girl--knowing what she knew, or doing what
she was doing! She would go to Europe after this, or any place he
chose to send her.
In working out his plan of action it was necessary for Butler to
take Alderson into his confidence and the detective made plain
his determination to safeguard Cowperwood's person.
"We couldn't allow you to strike any blows or do any violence,"
Alderson told Butler, when they first talked about it. "It's
against the rules. You can go in there on a search-warrant, if
we have to have one. I can get that for you without anybody's
knowing anything about your connection with the case. We can say
it's for a girl from New York. But you'll have to go in in the
presence of my men. They won't permit any trouble. You can get
your daughter all right--we'll bring her away, and him, too, if
you say so; but you'll have to make some charge against him, if
we do. Then there's the danger of the neighbors seeing. You
can't always guarantee you won't collect a crowd that way." Butler
had many misgivings about the matter. It was fraught with great
danger of publicity. Still he wanted to know. He wanted to terrify
Aileen if he could--to reform her drastically.
Within a week Alderson learned that Aileen and Cowperwood were
visiting an apparently private residence, which was anything but
that. The house on South Sixth Street was one of assignation purely;
but in its way it was superior to the average establishment of its
kind--of red brick, white-stone trimmings, four stories high, and
all the rooms, some eighteen in number, furnished in a showy but
cleanly way. It's patronage was highly exclusive, only those being
admitted who were known to the mistress, having been introduced
by others. This guaranteed that privacy which the illicit affairs
of this world so greatly required. The mere phrase, "I have an
appointment," was sufficient, where either of the parties was known,
to cause them to be shown to a private suite. Cowperwood had known
of the place from previous experiences, and when it became necessary
to abandon the North Tenth Street house, he had directed Aileen
to meet him here.
The matter of entering a place of this kind and trying to find any
one was, as Alderson informed Butler on hearing of its character,
exceedingly difficult. It involved the right of search, which
was difficult to get. To enter by sheer force was easy enough in
most instances where the business conducted was in contradistinction
to the moral sentiment of the community; but sometimes one
encountered violent opposition from the tenants themselves. It
might be so in this case. The only sure way of avoiding such
opposition would be to take the woman who ran the place into one's
confidence, and by paying her sufficiently insure silence. "But I
do not advise that in this instance," Alderson had told Butler,
"for I believe this woman is particularly friendly to your man.
It might be better, in spite of the risk, to take it by surprise."
To do that, he explained, it would be necessary to have at least
three men in addition to the leader--perhaps four, who, once one
man had been able to make his entrance into the hallway, on the
door being opened in response to a ring, would appear quickly and
enter with and sustain him. Quickness of search was the next thing--
the prompt opening of all doors. The servants, if any, would have
to be overpowered and silenced in some way. Money sometimes did
this; force accomplished it at other times. Then one of the
detectives simulating a servant could tap gently at the different
doors--Butler and the others standing by--and in case a face
appeared identify it or not, as the case might be. If the door
was not opened and the room was not empty, it could eventually be
forced. The house was one of a solid block, so that there was no
chance of escape save by the front and rear doors, which were to
be safe-guarded. It was a daringly conceived scheme. In spite of
all this, secrecy in the matter of removing Aileen was to be
preserved.
When Butler heard of this he was nervous about the whole terrible
procedure. He thought once that without going to the house he
would merely talk to his daughter declaring that he knew and that
she could not possibly deny it. He would then give her her choice
between going to Europe or going to a reformatory. But a sense of
the raw brutality of Aileen's disposition, and something essentially
coarse in himself, made him eventually adopt the other method. He
ordered Alderson to perfect his plan, and once he found Aileen or
Cowperwood entering the house to inform him quickly. He would then
drive there, and with the assistance of these men confront her.
It was a foolish scheme, a brutalizing thing to do, both from the
point of view of affection and any corrective theory he might have
had. No good ever springs from violence. But Butler did not see
that. He wanted to frighten Aileen, to bring her by shock to a
realization of the enormity of the offense she was committing. He
waited fully a week after his word had been given; and then, one
afternoon, when his nerves were worn almost thin from fretting,
the climax came. Cowperwood had already been indicted, and was
now awaiting trial. Aileen had been bringing him news, from time
to time, of just how she thought her father was feeling toward him.
She did not get this evidence direct from Butler, of course--he
was too secretive, in so far as she was concerned, to let her know
how relentlessly he was engineering Cowperwood's final downfall--
but from odd bits confided to Owen, who confided them to Callum,
who in turn, innocently enough, confided them to Aileen. For one
thing, she had learned in this way of the new district attorney
elect--his probable attitude--for he was a constant caller at the
Butler house or office. Owen had told Callum that he thought Shannon
was going to do his best to send Cowperwood "up"--that the old man
thought he deserved it.
In the next place she had learned that her father did not want
Cowperwood to resume business--did not feel he deserved to be allowed
to. "It would be a God's blessing if the community were shut of
him," he had said to Owen one morning, apropos of a notice in the
papers of Cowperwood's legal struggles; and Owen had asked Callum
why he thought the old man was so bitter. The two sons could not
understand it. Cowperwood heard all this from her, and more--bits
about Judge Payderson, the judge who was to try him, who was a
friend of Butler's--also about the fact that Stener might be sent
up for the full term of his crime, but that be would be pardoned
soon afterward.
Apparently Cowperwood was not very much frightened. He told her
that he had powerful financial friends who would appeal to the
governor to pardon him in case he was convicted; and, anyhow, that
he did not think that the evidence was strong enough to convict
him. He was merely a political scapegoat through public clamor
and her father's influence; since the latter's receipt of the
letter about them he had been the victim of Butler's enmity, and
nothing more. "If it weren't for your father, honey," he declared,
"I could have this indictment quashed in no time. Neither
Mollenhauer nor Simpson has anything against me personally, I am
sure. They want me to get out of the street-railway business here
in Philadelphia, and, of course, they wanted to make things look
better for Stener at first; but depend upon it, if your father
hadn't been against me they wouldn't have gone to any such length
in making me the victim. Your father has this fellow Shannon and
these minor politicians just where he wants them, too. That's
where the trouble lies. They have to go on."
"Oh, I know," replied Aileen. "It's me, just me, that's all. If
it weren't for me and what he suspects he'd help you in a minute.
Sometimes, you know, I think I've been very bad for you. I don't
know what I ought to do. If I thought it would help you any I'd
not see you any more for a while, though I don't see what good that
would do now. Oh, I love you, love you, Frank! I would do anything
for you. I don't care what people think or say. I love you."
"Oh, you just think you do," he replied, jestingly. "You'll get
over it. There are others."
"Others!" echoed Aileen, resentfully and contemptuously. "After
you there aren't any others. I just want one man, my Frank. If
you ever desert me, I'll go to hell. You'll see."
"Don't talk like that, Aileen," he replied, almost irritated. "I
don't like to hear you. You wouldn't do anything of the sort. I
love you. You know I'm not going to desert you. It would pay you
to desert me just now."
"Oh, how you talk!" she exclaimed. "Desert you! It's likely, isn't
it? But if ever you desert me, I'll do just what I say. I swear
it."
"Don't talk like that. Don't talk nonsense."
"I swear it. I swear by my love. I swear by your success--my
own happiness. I'll do just what I say. I'll go to hell."
Cowperwood got up. He was a little afraid now of this deep-seated
passion he had aroused. It was dangerous. He could not tell where
it would lead.
It was a cheerless afternoon in November, when Alderson, duly
informed of the presence of Aileen and Cowperwood in the South
Sixth Street house by the detective on guard drove rapidly up to
Butler's office and invited him to come with him. Yet even now
Butler could scarcely believe that he was to find his daughter
there. The shame of it. The horror. What would he say to her?
How reproach her? What would he do to Cowperwood? His large hands
shook as he thought. They drove rapidly to within a few doors of
the place, where a second detective on guard across the street
approached. Butler and Alderson descended from the vehicle, and
together they approached the door. It was now almost four-thirty
in the afternoon. In a room within the house, Cowperwood, his
coat and vest off, was listening to Aileen's account of her troubles.
The room in which they were sitting at the time was typical of the
rather commonplace idea of luxury which then prevailed. Most of
the "sets" of furniture put on the market for general sale by the
furniture companies were, when they approached in any way the correct
idea of luxury, imitations of one of the Louis periods. The curtains
were always heavy, frequently brocaded, and not infrequently red.
The carpets were richly flowered in high colors with a thick, velvet
nap. The furniture, of whatever wood it might be made, was almost
invariably heavy, floriated, and cumbersome. This room contained
a heavily constructed bed of walnut, with washstand, bureau, and
wardrobe to match. A large, square mirror in a gold frame was
hung over the washstand. Some poor engravings of landscapes and
several nude figures were hung in gold frames on the wall. The
gilt-framed chairs were upholstered in pink-and-white-flowered
brocade, with polished brass tacks. The carpet was of thick
Brussels, pale cream and pink in hue, with large blue jardinieres
containing flowers woven in as ornaments. The general effect
was light, rich, and a little stuffy.
"You know I get desperately frightened, sometimes," said Aileen.
"Father might be watching us, you know. I've often wondered what
I'd do if he caught us. I couldn't lie out of this, could I?"
"You certainly couldn't," said Cowperwood, who never failed to
respond to the incitement of her charms. She had such lovely smooth
arms, a full, luxuriously tapering throat and neck; her golden-red
hair floated like an aureole about her head, and her large eyes
sparkled. The wondrous vigor of a full womanhood was hers--errant,
ill-balanced, romantic, but exquisite, "but you might as well not
cross that bridge until you come to it," he continued. "I myself
have been thinking that we had better not go on with this for the
present. That letter ought to have been enough to stop us for
the time."
He came over to where she stood by the dressing-table, adjusting
her hair.
"You're such a pretty minx," he said. He slipped his arm about
her and kissed her pretty mouth. "Nothing sweeter than you this
side of Paradise," he whispered in her ear.
While this was enacting, Butler and the extra detective had stepped
out of sight, to one side of the front door of the house, while
Alderson, taking the lead, rang the bell. A negro servant appeared.
"Is Mrs. Davis in?" he asked, genially, using the name of the woman
in control. "I'd like to see her."
"Just come in," said the maid, unsuspectingly, and indicated a
reception-room on the right. Alderson took off his soft, wide-brimmed
hat and entered. When the maid went up-stairs he immediately
returned to the door and let in Butler and two detectives. The
four stepped into the reception-room unseen. In a few moments the
"madam" as the current word characterized this type of woman,
appeared. She was tall, fair, rugged, and not at all unpleasant
to look upon. She had light-blue eyes and a genial smile. Long
contact with the police and the brutalities of sex in her early
life had made her wary, a little afraid of how the world would use
her. This particular method of making a living being illicit, and
she having no other practical knowledge at her command, she was
as anxious to get along peacefully with the police and the public
generally as any struggling tradesman in any walk of life might
have been. She had on a loose, blue-flowered peignoir, or
dressing-gown, open at the front, tied with blue ribbons and
showing a little of her expensive underwear beneath. A large opal
ring graced her left middle finger, and turquoises of vivid blue
were pendent from her ears. She wore yellow silk slippers with
bronze buckles; and altogether her appearance was not out of
keeping with the character of the reception-room itself, which
was a composite of gold-flowered wall-paper, blue and cream-colored
Brussels carpet, heavily gold-framed engravings of reclining nudes,
and a gilt-framed pier-glass, which rose from the floor to the
ceiling. Needless to say, Butler was shocked to the soul of him
by this suggestive atmosphere which was supposed to include his
daughter in its destructive reaches.
Alderson motioned one of his detectives to get behind the woman--
between her and the door--which he did.
"Sorry to trouble you, Mrs. Davis," he said, "but we are looking
for a couple who are in your house here. We're after a runaway
girl. We don't want to make any disturbance--merely to get her
and take her away." Mrs. Davis paled and opened her mouth. "Now
don't make any noise or try to scream, or we'll have to stop you.
My men are all around the house. Nobody can get out. Do you know
anybody by the name of Cowperwood?"
Mrs. Davis, fortunately from one point of view, was not of a
particularly nervous nor yet contentious type. She was more or
less philosophic. She was not in touch with the police here in
Philadelphia, hence subject to exposure. What good would it do
to cry out? she thought. The place was surrounded. There was
no one in the house at the time to save Cowperwood and Aileen.
She did not know Cowperwood by his name, nor Aileen by hers. They
were a Mr. and Mrs. Montague to her.
"I don't know anybody by that name," she replied nervously.
"Isn't there a girl here with red hair?" asked one of Alderson's
assistants. "And a man with a gray suit and a light-brown mustache?
They came in here half an hour ago. You remember them, don't you?"
"There's just one couple in the house, but I'm not sure whether
they're the ones you want. I'll ask them to come down if you wish.
Oh, I wish you wouldn't make any disturbance. This is terrible."
"We'll not make any disturbance," replied Alderson, "if you don't.
Just you be quiet. We merely want to see the girl and take her
away. Now, you stay where you are. What room are they in?"
"In the second one in the rear up-stairs. Won't you let me go,
though? It will be so much better. I'll just tap and ask them to
come out."
"No. We'll tend to that. You stay where you are. You're not
going to get into any trouble. You just stay where you are,"
insisted Alderson.
He motioned to Butler, who, however, now that he had embarked on
his grim task, was thinking that he had made a mistake. What good
would it do him to force his way in and make her come out, unless
he intended to kill Cowperwood? If she were made to come down here,
that would be enough. She would then know that he knew all. He
did not care to quarrel with Cowperwood, in any public way, he now
decided. He was afraid to. He was afraid of himself.
"Let her go," he said grimly, doggedly referring to Mrs. Davis,
"But watch her. Tell the girl to come down-stairs to me."
Mrs. Davis, realizing on the moment that this was some family
tragedy, and hoping in an agonized way that she could slip out of
it peacefully, started upstairs at once with Alderson and his
assistants who were close at his heels. Reaching the door of
the room occupied by Cowperwood and Aileen, she tapped lightly.
At the time Aileen and Cowperwood were sitting in a big arm-chair.
At the first knock Aileen blanched and leaped to her feet. Usually
not nervous, to-day, for some reason, she anticipated trouble.
Cowperwood's eyes instantly hardened.
"Don't be nervous," he said, "no doubt it's only the servant.
I'll go."
He started, but Aileen interfered. "Wait," she said. Somewhat
reassured, she went to the closet, and taking down a dressing-gown,
slipped it on. Meanwhile the tap came again. Then she went to
the door and opened it the least bit.
"Mrs. Montague," exclaimed Mrs. Davis, in an obviously nervous,
forced voice, "there's a gentleman downstairs who wishes to see
you."
"A gentleman to see me!" exclaimed Aileen, astonished and paling.
"Are you sure?"
"Yes; he says he wants to see you. There are several other men
with him. I think it's some one who belongs to you, maybe."
Aileen realized on the instant, as did Cowperwood, what had in all
likelihood happened. Butler or Mrs. Cowperwood had trailed them--
in all probability her father. He wondered now what he should do
to protect her, not himself. He was in no way deeply concerned for
himself, even here. Where any woman was concerned he was too
chivalrous to permit fear. It was not at all improbable that Butler
might want to kill him; but that did not disturb him. He really
did not pay any attention to that thought, and he was not armed.
"I'll dress and go down," he said, when he saw Aileen's pale face.
"You stay here. And don't you worry in any way for I'll get you
out of this--now, don't worry. This is my affair. I got you in
it and I'll get you out of it." He went for his hat and coat and
added, as he did so, "You go ahead and dress; but let me go first."
Aileen, the moment the door closed, had begun to put on her clothes
swiftly and nervously. Her mind was working like a rapidly moving
machine. She was wondering whether this really could be her father.
Perhaps it was not. Might there be some other Mrs. Montague--a
real one? Supposing it was her father--he had been so nice to her
in not telling the family, in keeping her secret thus far. He
loved her--she knew that. It makes all the difference in the world
in a child's attitude on an occasion like this whether she has
been loved and petted and spoiled, or the reverse. Aileen had been
loved and petted and spoiled. She could not think of her father
doing anything terrible physically to her or to any one else. But
it was so hard to confront him--to look into his eyes. When she
had attained a proper memory of him, her fluttering wits told her
what to do.
"No, Frank," she whispered, excitedly; "if it's father, you'd
better let me go. I know how to talk to him. He won't say anything
to me. You stay here. I'm not afraid--really, I'm not. If I
want you, I'll call you."
He had come over and taken her pretty chin in his hands, and was
looking solemnly into her eyes.
"You mustn't be afraid," he said. "I'll go down. If it's your
father, you can go away with him. I don't think he'll do anything
either to you or to me. If it is he, write me something at the
office. I'll be there. If I can help you in any way, I will.
We can fix up something. There's no use trying to explain this.
Say nothing at all."
He had on his coat and overcoat, and was standing with his hat in
his hand. Aileen was nearly dressed, struggling with the row of
red current-colored buttons which fastened her dress in the back.
Cowperwood helped her. When she was ready--hat, gloves, and all--
he said:
"Now let me go first. I want to see."
"No; please, Frank," she begged, courageously. "Let me, I know
it's father. Who else could it be?" She wondered at the moment
whether her father had brought her two brothers but would not now
believe it. He would not do that, she knew. "You can come if I
call." She went on. "Nothing's going to happen, though. I
understand him. He won't do anything to me. If you go it will
only make him angry. Let me go. You stand in the door here. If
I don't call, it's all right. Will you?"
She put her two pretty hands on his shoulders, and he weighed the
matter very carefully. "Very well," he said, "only I'll go to
the foot of the stairs with you."
They went to the door and he opened it. Outside were Alderson
with two other detectives and Mrs. Davis, standing perhaps five
feet away.
"Well," said Cowperwood, commandingly, looking at Alderson.
"There's a gentleman down-stairs wishes to see the lady," said
Alderson. "It's her father, I think," he added quietly.
Cowperwood made way for Aileen, who swept by, furious at the
presence of men and this exposure. Her courage had entirely returned.
She was angry now to think her father would make a public spectacle
of her. Cowperwood started to follow.
"I'd advise you not to go down there right away," cautioned Alderson,
sagely. "That's her father. Butler's her name, isn't it? He don't
want you so much as he wants her."
Cowperwood nevertheless walked slowly toward the head of the stairs,
listening.
"What made you come here, father?" he heard Aileen ask.
Butler's reply he could not hear, but he was now at ease for he
knew how much Butler loved his daughter.
Confronted by her father, Aileen was now attempting to stare
defiantly, to look reproachful, but Butler's deep gray eyes beneath
their shaggy brows revealed such a weight of weariness and despair
as even she, in her anger and defiance, could not openly flaunt.
It was all too sad.
"I never expected to find you in a place like this, daughter," he
said. "I should have thought you would have thought better of
yourself." His voice choked and he stopped.
"I know who you're here with," he continued, shaking his head
sadly. "The dog! I'll get him yet. I've had men watchin' you
all the time. Oh, the shame of this day! The shame of this day!
You'll be comin' home with me now."
"That's just it, father," began Aileen. "You've had men watching
me. I should have thought--" She stopped, because he put up his
hand in a strange, agonized, and yet dominating way.
"None of that! none of that!" he said, glowering under his strange,
sad, gray brows. "I can't stand it! Don't tempt me! We're not out
of this place yet. He's not! You'll come home with me now."
Aileen understood. It was Cowperwood he was referring to. That
frightened her.
"I'm ready," she replied, nervously.
The old man led the way broken-heartedly. He felt he would never
live to forget the agony of this hour. _