_ When Cowperwood reached the jail, Jaspers was there, glad to see
him but principally relieved to feel that nothing had happened to
mar his own reputation as a sheriff. Because of the urgency of
court matters generally, it was decided to depart for the courtroom
at nine o'clock. Eddie Zanders was once more delegated to see
that Cowperwood was brought safely before Judge Payderson and
afterward taken to the penitentiary. All of the papers in the
case were put in his care to be delivered to the warden.
"I suppose you know," confided Sheriff Jaspers to Steger, "that
Stener is here. He ain't got no money now, but I gave him a
private room just the same. I didn't want to put a man like him
in no cell." Sheriff Jaspers sympathized with Stener.
"That's right. I'm glad to hear that," replied Steger, smiling
to himself.
"I didn't suppose from what I've heard that Mr. Cowperwood would
want to meet Stener here, so I've kept 'em apart. George just
left a minute ago with another deputy."
"That's good. That's the way it ought to be," replied Steger.
He was glad for Cowperwood's sake that the sheriff had so much
tact. Evidently George and the sheriff were getting along in a
very friendly way, for all the former's bitter troubles and lack
of means.
The Cowperwood party walked, the distance not being great, and as
they did so they talked of rather simple things to avoid the more
serious.
"Things aren't going to be so bad," Edward said to his father.
"Steger says the Governor is sure to pardon Stener in a year or
less, and if he does he's bound to let Frank out too."
Cowperwood, the elder, had heard this over and over, but he was
never tired of hearing it. It was like some simple croon with
which babies are hushed to sleep. The snow on the ground, which
was enduring remarkably well for this time of year, the fineness
of the day, which had started out to be clear and bright, the
hope that the courtroom might not be full, all held the attention
of the father and his two sons. Cowperwood, senior, even commented
on some sparrows fighting over a piece of bread, marveling how
well they did in winter, solely to ease his mind. Cowperwood,
walking on ahead with Steger and Zanders, talked of approaching
court proceedings in connection with his business and what ought
to be done.
When they reached the court the same little pen in which Cowperwood
had awaited the verdict of his jury several months before was
waiting to receive him.
Cowperwood, senior, and his other sons sought places in the
courtroom proper. Eddie Zanders remained with his charge. Stener
and a deputy by the name of Wilkerson were in the room; but he and
Cowperwood pretended now not to see each other. Frank had no
objection to talking to his former associate, but he could see
that Stener was diffident and ashamed. So he let the situation
pass without look or word of any kind. After some three-quarters
of an hour of dreary waiting the door leading into the courtroom
proper opened and a bailiff stepped in.
"All prisoners up for sentence," he called.
There were six, all told, including Cowperwood and Stener. Two
of them were confederate housebreakers who had been caught red-handed
at their midnight task.
Another prisoner was no more and no less than a plain horse-thief,
a young man of twenty-six, who had been convicted by a jury of
stealing a grocer's horse and selling it. The last man was a
negro, a tall, shambling, illiterate, nebulous-minded black, who
had walked off with an apparently discarded section of lead pipe
which he had found in a lumber-yard. His idea was to sell or
trade it for a drink. He really did not belong in this court at
all; but, having been caught by an undersized American watchman
charged with the care of the property, and having at first refused
to plead guilty, not quite understanding what was to be done with
him, he had been perforce bound over to this court for trial.
Afterward he had changed his mind and admitted his guilt, so he
now had to come before Judge Payderson for sentence or dismissal.
The lower court before which he had originally been brought had
lost jurisdiction by binding him over to to higher court for trial.
Eddie Zanders, in his self-appointed position as guide and mentor
to Cowperwood, had confided nearly all of this data to him as he
stood waiting.
The courtroom was crowded. It was very humiliating to Cowperwood
to have to file in this way along the side aisle with these others,
followed by Stener, well dressed but sickly looking and disconsolate.
The negro, Charles Ackerman, was the first on the list.
"How is it this man comes before me?" asked Payderson, peevishly,
when he noted the value of the property Ackerman was supposed to
have stolen.
"Your honor," the assistant district attorney explained, promptly,
"this man was before a lower court and refused, because he was
drunk, or something, to plead guilty. The lower court, because
the complainant would not forego the charge, was compelled to
bind him over to this court for trial. Since then he has changed
his mind and has admitted his guilt to the district attorney. He
would not be brought before you except we have no alternative.
He has to be brought here now in order to clear the calendar."
Judge Payderson stared quizzically at the negro, who, obviously
not very much disturbed by this examination, was leaning comfortably
on the gate or bar before which the average criminal stood erect
and terrified. He had been before police-court magistrates before
on one charge and another--drunkenness, disorderly conduct, and
the like--but his whole attitude was one of shambling, lackadaisical,
amusing innocence.
"Well, Ackerman," inquired his honor, severely, "did you or did
you not steal this piece of lead pipe as charged here--four dollars
and eighty cents' worth?"
"Yassah, I did," he began. "I tell you how it was, jedge. I was
a-comin' along past dat lumber-yard one Saturday afternoon, and
I hadn't been wuckin', an' I saw dat piece o' pipe thoo de fence,
lyin' inside, and I jes' reached thoo with a piece o' boad I
found dey and pulled it over to me an' tuck it. An' aftahwahd dis
Mistah Watchman man"--he waved his hand oratorically toward the
witness-chair, where, in case the judge might wish to ask him some
questions, the complainant had taken his stand--"come around tuh
where I live an' accused me of done takin' it."
"But you did take it, didn't you?"
"Yassah, I done tuck it."
"What did you do with it?"
"I traded it foh twenty-five cents."
"You mean you sold it," corrected his honor.
"Yassah, I done sold it."
"Well, don't you know it's wrong to do anything like that? Didn't
you know when you reached through that fence and pulled that pipe
over to you that you were stealing? Didn't you?"
"Yassah, I knowed it was wrong," replied Ackerman, sheepishly.
"I didn' think 'twuz stealin' like zackly, but I done knowed it
was wrong. I done knowed I oughtn' take it, I guess."
"Of course you did. Of course you did. That's just it. You
knew you were stealing, and still you took it. Has the man to
whom this negro sold the lead pipe been apprehended yet?" the
judge inquired sharply of the district attorney. "He should be,
for he's more guilty than this negro, a receiver of stolen goods."
"Yes, sir," replied the assistant. "His case is before Judge
Yawger."
"Quite right. It should be," replied Payderson, severely. "This
matter of receiving stolen property is one of the worst offenses,
in my judgment."
He then turned his attention to Ackerman again. "Now, look here,
Ackerman," he exclaimed, irritated at having to bother with such
a pretty case, "I want to say something to you, and I want you to
pay strict attention to me. Straighten up, there! Don't lean on
that gate! You are in the presence of the law now." Ackerman had
sprawled himself comfortably down on his elbows as he would have
if he had been leaning over a back-fence gate talking to some one,
but he immediately drew himself straight, still grinning foolishly
and apologetically, when he heard this. "You are not so dull but
that you can understand what I am going to say to you. The offense
you have committed--stealing a piece of lead pipe--is a crime. Do
you hear me? A criminal offense--one that I could punish you very
severely for. I could send you to the penitentiary for one year
if I chose--the law says I may--one year at hard labor for stealing
a piece of lead pipe. Now, if you have any sense you will pay
strict attention to what I am going to tell you. I am not going
to send you to the penitentiary right now. I'm going to wait a
little while. I am going to sentence you to one year in the
penitentiary--one year. Do you understand?" Ackerman blanched a
little and licked his lips nervously. "And then I am going to
suspend that sentence--hold it over your head, so that if you are
ever caught taking anything else you will be punished for this
offense and the next one also at one and the same time. Do you
understand that? Do you know what I mean? Tell me. Do you?"
"Yessah! I does, sir," replied the negro. "You'se gwine to let
me go now--tha's it."
The audience grinned, and his honor made a wry face to prevent
his own grim grin.
"I'm going to let you go only so long as you don't steal anything
else," he thundered. "The moment you steal anything else, back
you come to this court, and then you go to the penitentiary for a
year and whatever more time you deserve. Do you understand that?
Now, I want you to walk straight out of this court and behave
yourself. Don't ever steal anything. Get something to do! Don't
steal, do you hear? Don't touch anything that doesn't belong to
you! Don't come back here! If you do, I'll send you to the
penitentiary, sure."
"Yassah! No, sah, I won't," replied Ackerman, nervously. "I won't
take nothin' more that don't belong tuh me."
He shuffled away, after a moment, urged along by the guiding hand
of a bailiff, and was put safely outside the court, amid a mixture
of smiles and laughter over his simplicity and Payderson's undue
severity of manner. But the next case was called and soon engrossed
the interest of the audience.
It was that of the two housebreakers whom Cowperwood had been and
was still studying with much curiosity. In all his life before
he had never witnessed a sentencing scene of any kind. He had
never been in police or criminal courts of any kind--rarely in any
of the civil ones. He was glad to see the negro go, and gave
Payderson credit for having some sense and sympathy--more than he
had expected.
He wondered now whether by any chance Aileen was here. He had
objected to her coming, but she might have done so. She was, as
a matter of fact, in the extreme rear, pocketed in a crowd near
the door, heavily veiled, but present. She had not been able to
resist the desire to know quickly and surely her beloved's fate--
to be near him in his hour of real suffering, as she thought. She
was greatly angered at seeing him brought in with a line of ordinary
criminals and made to wait in this, to her, shameful public manner,
but she could not help admiring all the more the dignity and
superiority of his presence even here. He was not even pale, as
she saw, just the same firm, calm soul she had always known him
to be. If he could only see her now; if he would only look so she
could lift her veil and smile! He didn't, though; he wouldn't. He
didn't want to see her here. But she would tell him all about it
when she saw him again just the same.
The two burglars were quickly disposed of by the judge, with a
sentence of one year each, and they were led away, uncertain, and
apparently not knowing what to think of their crime or their 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 could not be handled in the usual manner. He knew exactly
what he was going to say. When one of Mollenhauer's agents, a
close friend of Butler's, had suggested that five years for both
Cowperwood and Stener would be about right, he knew exactly what
to do. "Frank Algernon Cowperwood," called the clerk.
Cowperwood stepped briskly forward, sorry for himself, ashamed of
his position in a way, but showing it neither in look nor manner.
Payderson eyed him as he had the others.
"Name?" asked the bailiff, for the benefit of the court stenographer.
"Frank Algernon Cowperwood."
"Residence?"
"1937 Girard Avenue."
"Occupation?"
"Banker and broker."
Steger stood close beside him, very dignified, very forceful, ready
to make a final statement 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 perspiration
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 his nasal,
singsong way, coming forward, "have you anything to say why judgment
should not now be pronounced upon you? If so, speak."
Cowperwood started to say no, but Steger put up his hand.
"If the court pleases, my client, Mr. Cowperwood, the prisoner at
the bar, is neither guilty in his own estimation, nor in that of
two-fifths of the Pennsylvania State Supreme Court--the court of
last resort in this State," he exclaimed, loudly and clearly, so
that all might hear.
One of the interested listeners and spectators at this point was
Edward Malia Butler, who had just stepped in from another courtroom
where he had been talking to a judge. An obsequious court attendant
had warned him that Cowperwood was about to be sentenced. He had
really come here this morning in order not to miss this sentence,
but he cloaked his motive under the guise of another errand. He
did not know that Aileen was there, nor did he see her.
"As he himself testified at the time of his trial," went on Steger,
"and as the evidence clearly showed, he was never more than an
agent for the gentleman whose offense was subsequently adjudicated
by this court; and as an agent he still maintains, and two-fifths
of the State Supreme Court agree with him, that he was strictly
within his rights and privileges in not having deposited the sixty
thousand dollars' worth of city loan certificates at the time, and
in the manner which the people, acting through the district attorney,
complained that he should have. My client is a man of rare financial
ability. By the various letters which have been submitted to your
honor in his behalf, you will see that he commands the respect and
the sympathy of a large majority of the most forceful and eminent
men in his particular world. He is a man of distinguished social
standing and of notable achievements. Only the most unheralded
and the unkindest thrust of fortune has brought him here before
you today--a fire and its consequent panic which involved a financial
property of the most thorough and stable character. In spite of
the verdict of the jury and the decision of three-fifths of the
State Supreme Court, I maintain that my client is not an embezzler,
that he has not committed larceny, that he should never have been
convicted, and that he should not now be punished for something
of which he is not guilty.
"I trust that your honor will not misunderstand me or my motives
when I point out in this situation that what I have said is true.
I do not wish to cast any reflection on the integrity of the court,
nor of any court, nor of any of the processes of law. But I do
condemn and deplore the untoward chain of events which has built
up a seeming situation, not easily understood by the lay mind, and
which has brought my distinguished client within the purview of
the law. I think it is but fair that this should be finally and
publicly stated here and now. I ask that your honor be lenient,
and that if you cannot conscientiously dismiss this charge you
will at least see that the facts, as I have indicated them, are
given due weight in the measure of the punishment inflicted."
Steger stepped back and Judge Payderson nodded, as much as to say
he had heard all the distinguished lawyer had to say, and would
give it such consideration as it deserved--no more. Then he turned
to Cowperwood, and, summoning all his judicial dignity to his aid,
he began:
"Frank Algernon Cowperwood, you have been convicted by a jury of
your own selection of the offense of larceny. The motion for a
new trial, made in your behalf by your learned counsel, has been
carefully considered and overruled, the majority of the court being
entirely satisfied with the propriety of the conviction, both upon
the law and the evidence. Your offense was one of more than usual
gravity, the more so that the large amount of money which you
obtained belonged to the city. And it was aggravated by the fact
that you had in addition thereto unlawfully used and converted to
your own use several hundred thousand dollars of the loan and money
of the city. For such an offense the maximum punishment affixed
by the law is singularly merciful. Nevertheless, the facts in
connection with your hitherto distinguished position, the
circumstances under which your failure was brought about, and the
appeals of your numerous friends and financial associates, will
be given due consideration by this court. It is not unmindful of
any important fact in your career." Payderson paused as if in
doubt, though he knew very well how he was about to proceed. He
knew what his superiors expected of him.
"If your case points no other moral," he went on, after a moment,
toying with the briefs, "it will at least teach the lesson much
needed at the present time, that the treasury of the city is not
to be invaded and plundered with impunity under the thin disguise
of a business transaction, and that there is still a power in the
law to vindicate itself and to protect the public.
"The sentence of the court," he added, solemnly, the while Cowperwood
gazed unmoved, "is, therefore, that you pay a fine of five thousand
dollars to the commonwealth for the use of the county, that you
pay the costs of prosecution, and that you undergo imprisonment
in the State Penitentiary for the Eastern District by separate or
solitary confinement at labor for a period of four years and three
months, and that you stand committed until this sentence is complied
with."
Cowperwood's father, on hearing this, bowed his head to hide his
tears. Aileen bit her lower lip and clenched her hands to keep
down her rage and disappointment and tears. Four years and three
months! That would make a terrible gap in his life and hers. Still,
she could wait. It was better than eight or ten years, as she
had feared it might be. Perhaps now, once this was really over
and he was in prison, the Governor would pardon him.
The judge now moved to pick up the papers in connection with
Stener's case, satisfied that he had given the financiers no
chance to say he had not given due heed to their plea in Cowperwood's
behalf and yet certain that the politicians would be pleased
that he had so nearly given Cowperwood the maximum while appearing
to have heeded the pleas for mercy. Cowperwood saw through the
trick at once, but it did not disturb him. It struck him as rather
weak and contemptible. A bailiff came forward and started to hurry
him away.
"Allow the prisoner to remain for a moment," called the judge.
The name, of George W. Stener had been called by the clerk and
Cowperwood did not quite understand why he was being detained, but
he soon learned. It was that he might hear the opinion of the
court in connection with his copartner in crime. The latter's
record was taken. Roger O'Mara, the Irish political lawyer who
had been his counsel all through his troubles, stood near him, but
had nothing to say beyond asking the judge to consider Stener's
previously honorable career.
"George W. Stener," said his honor, while the audience, including
Cowperwood, listened attentively. "The motion for a new trial as
well as an arrest of judgment in your case having been overruled,
it remains for the court to impose such sentence as the nature of
your offense requires. I do not desire to add to the pain of your
position by any extended remarks of my own; but I cannot let the
occasion pass without expressing my emphatic condemnation of your
offense. The misapplication of public money has become the great
crime of the age. If not promptly and firmly checked, it will
ultimately destroy our institutions. When a republic becomes
honeycombed with corruption its vitality is gone. It must crumble
upon the first pressure.
"In my opinion, the public is much to blame for your offense and
others of a similar character. Heretofore, official fraud has
been regarded with too much indifference. What we need is a higher
and purer political morality--a state of public opinion which would
make the improper use of public money a thing to be execrated. It
was the lack of this which made your offense possible. Beyond that
I see nothing of extenuation in your case." Judge Payderson paused
for emphasis. He was coming to his finest flight, and he wanted
it to sink in.
"The people had confided to you the care of their money," he went
on, solemnly. "It was a high, a sacred trust. You should have
guarded the door of the treasury even as the cherubim protected
the Garden of Eden, and should have turned the flaming sword of
impeccable honesty against every one who approached it improperly.
Your position as the representative of a great community warranted
that.
"In view of all the facts in your case the court can do no less
than impose a major penalty. The seventy-fourth section of the
Criminal Procedure Act provides that no convict shall be sentenced
by the court of this commonwealth to either of the penitentiaries
thereof, for any term which shall expire between the fifteenth of
November and the fifteenth day of February of any year, and this
provision requires me to abate three months from the maximum of
time which I would affix in your case--namely, five years. The
sentence of the court is, therefore, that you pay a fine of five
thousand dollars to the commonwealth for the use of the county"--
Payderson knew well enough that Stener could never pay that sum--
"and that you undergo imprisonment in the State Penitentiary for
the Eastern District, by separate and solitary confinement at labor,
for the period of four years and nine months, and that you stand
committed until this sentence is complied with." He laid down
the briefs and rubbed his chin reflectively while both Cowperwood
and Stener were hurried out. Butler was the first to leave after
the sentence--quite satisfied. Seeing that all was over so far
as she was concerned, Aileen stole quickly out; and after her, in
a few moments, Cowperwood's father and brothers. They were to
await him outside and go with him to the penitentiary. The remaining
members of the family were at home eagerly awaiting intelligence
of the morning's work, and Joseph Cowperwood was at once despatched
to tell them.
The day had now become cloudy, lowery, and it looked as if there
might be snow. Eddie Zanders, who had been given all the papers
in the case, announced that there was no need to return to the
county jail. In consequence the five of them--Zanders, Steger,
Cowperwood, his father, and Edward--got into a street-car which
ran to within a few blocks of the prison. Within half an hour
they were at the gates of the Eastern Penitentiary. _