On the other hand, of course, there was the possibility that Cowperwood might one day turn on him and, for real or trumped-up reasons, accuse him of relations with her which would furnish him the means of getting rid of her. And yet, if he could prove that Cowperwood had suborned him to this scheme, the revelation would certainly not be any more pleasant for Cowperwood than it would be for him. So what, personally, had he to lose? Most certainly he could arrange his conduct and Aileen’s in such a way as to avoid charges on the part of her husband.
And, he could do much for her. He had noticed on this trip that she liked to drink rather freely. He would have to guard her against such a weakness. Next, there was the matter of her clothes. There were dressmakers in Paris who would be grateful to him for the privilege of dressing her properly. Lastly, and, of course, with her money, it would not be difficult to arrange amusing adventures for her—Aix-les-Bains, Biarritz, Dieppe, Cannes, Nice, Monte Carlo—assuming that she came to have faith in him. He could invite old friends, pay old debts, make new contacts!
Lying in his stateroom, smoking a cigarette and sipping a highball, he speculated as to all this. This cabin! This $200-a-week job! And the $3,000!
Chapter 23
The Kaiser Wilhelm der Grosse landed the passengers for Southampton on a hazy April morning, the sun dimly Piercing an English fog. From an upper deck, Cowperwood, wearing a smart gray business suit, surveyed the quiet harbor and the placid houses on the shore beyond.
Aileen stood beside him, dressed in her best spring finery. Hovering about were her maid, Williams; Cowperwood’s valet; and his personal secretary, Jamieson. On the dock below stood Jarkins and Kloorfain, also a group of reporters anxious to question Cowperwood concerning a rumor—concocted by Jarkins—that he was coming to England to buy a distinguished art collection, the property of a peer of whom Cowperwood had never heard.
At the last moment Tollifer had announced—a very tactful move on his part, as Cowperwood felt—that he was not leaving the boat with them but was going on to Cherbourg and then to Paris. However, as he also explained in his most casual manner, and for Aileen’s benefit, he would come to London the following Monday or Tuesday, when he hoped to have the pleasure of seeing the Cowperwoods before they left for the Continent. At this Aileen looked at Cowperwood for a glance of approval, and, receiving it, said they would be glad to have him call on them at the Cecil.
At this moment Cowperwood was enjoying to the fullest extent the sense of importance and well-being surrounding him. Once he had landed and disposed of Aileen, there would be Berenice, with her mother, at Claridge’s awaiting him. He actually felt young: Ulysses upon a new and truly mysterious voyage! His feelings were heightened also by the fact that in the midst of all this there arrived a messenger with a telegram in Spanish: “The sun shines on the England you step upon. It is a silver door that opens upon your greatest achievement and your greatest fame. The sea has been grey without you, Oro del Oro.” It was from Berenice, of course, and he smiled to himself at the thought of seeing her.
And now the reporters. “Where was he bound for?” “Had he divested himself of all of his Chicago holdings?” “Was it true that he had come to England to buy a famous private art collection, as had been rumored?” To all of which questions, he vouchsafed guarded but smiling replies. To be exact, he was seeking a holiday of some duration, since it had been so long since he had had one, he explained. No, he had not gotten rid of his Chicago holdings; he was merely rearranging them. No, he had not come to buy the Fairbanks collection. He had once seen it and admired it enormously. But he had not even heard that it was for sale.
Throughout all this Aileen posed near at hand, pleased at the revival of her former grandeur. The Illustrated News had sent a man to make a sketch of her.
At the first lull in the buzz of talk, however, Jarkins, with Kloorfain at his elbow, rushed forward to pay his respects and to ask Cowperwood not to make any statements until he had an opportunity to talk to him. To which Cowperwood replied, “Very well, if you wish.”
After that, at the hotel, Jamieson reporting on various telegrams which had been received. Also, there was Mr. Sippens in Room 741, waiting to be called. Then there was a message from Lord Haddonfield, whom Cowperwood had met years before in Chicago—he would like to have the pleasure of entertaining the Cowperwoods over the week end. Also, a certain distinguished South African banker—a Jewish gentleman—then in London, asked him to luncheon in order to talk of important matters relating to South Africa. The German Ambassador sent his compliments and would be happy if Mr. Cowperwood would have dinner with him at the Embassy at his convenience. From Paris a message from Mr. Dolan, of Philadelphia: “If you go through this burg without doing the town with me, I’ll have you stopped at the border. Remember, I know as much about you as you know about me.”
The wings of fortune could
comfortably established in no doubt, Sippens said, were at their wits’ end. And yet there was no better opening wedge for Cowperwood than the act for the line which they controlled. He would go over the proposed route with him the next day. Far more important, though, was the ultimate control of this central loop, since on that depended any general system. The Charing Cross could most profitably be joined with the loop, and if he owned or controlled that, he would be in a far better position to move in connection with the loop and some other lines. Besides, there were many acts floating about, which had been secured by speculators with the hope of finding operators and investors afterward, and these might all be investigated.
“It’s a question, yes, of how to go about all this,” said Cowperwood, thoughtfully. “You say Greaves and Henshaw are in a mess, but they haven’t approached me yet. In the meantime, Jarkins has apparently talked to this fellow Johnson, of Traffic Electrical, and Johnson agreed with him that if I did nothing until he had a chance to bring together a group that appears to be interested in this central loop—your man, Stane, I assume, is one of them—he would arrange for me to meet them all and talk this over, the entire loop scheme, I suppose. But that would mean, I assume, that I would have to ignore Greaves and Henshaw and let this Charing Cross line drop back into Traffic Electrical by default, which is just what I don’t want to do. It would give them an extra club to swing over me.”
But at that Sippens was on his feet in an instant.
“Don’t you do that, Chief!” he fairly squeaked. “Don’t you do that! You’ll be sorry if you do. These people over here stick together like glue! They’ll fight each other singly, but when it comes to a foreigner, they’ll combine and you’ll be made to pay dearly unless you have something to fight them with. Better wait until tomorrow or the next day and see whether you hear from Greaves and Henshaw. They’re sure to read of your arrival in today’s papers, and, unless I miss my guess, they’ll get in touch with you, for they haven’t a thing to gain by waiting, not a thing. Tell Jarkins to stay away from Johnson, and you do whatever you have to do, but first come with me to look over this Charing Cross route.”