ntence to the penitentiary,
though this might easily be commuted by the governor, once public
excitement died down. He did not trouble to think whether Cowperwood was
criminally involved or not. A hundred to one he was not. Trust a shrewd
man like that to take care of himself. But if there was any way to
shoulder the blame on to Cowperwood, and so clear the treasurer and the
skirts of the party, he would not object to that. He wanted to hear the
full story of Stener's relations with the broker first. Meanwhile, the
thing to do was to seize what Stener had to yield.

The troubled city treasurer, on being shown in Mr. Mollenhauer's
presence, at once sank feebly in a chair and collapsed. He was entirely
done for mentally. His nerve was gone, his courage exhausted like a
breath.

"Well, Mr. Stener?" queried Mr. Mollenhauer, impressively, pretending
not to know what brought him.

"I came about this matter of my loans to Mr. Cowperwood."

"Well, what about them?"

"Well, he owes me, or the city treasury rather, five hundred thousand
dollars, and I understand that he is going to fail and that he can't pay
it back."

"Who told you that?"

"Mr. Sengstack, and since then Mr. Cowperwood has been to see me. He
tells me he must have more money or he will fail and he wants to borrow
three hundred thousand dollars more. He says he must have it."

"So!" said Mr. Mollenhauer, impressively, and with an air of
astonishment which he did not feel. "You would not think of doing that,
of course. You're too badly involved as it is. If he wants to know why,
refer him to me. Don't advance him another dollar. If you do, and this
case comes to trial, no court would have any mercy on you. It's going
to be difficult enough to do anything for you as it is. However, if you
don't advance him any more--we will see. It may be possible, I can't
say, but at any rate, no more money must leave the treasury to bolster
up this bad business. It's much too difficult as it now is." He stared
at Stener warningly. And he, shaken and sick, yet because of the faint
suggestion of mercy involved somewhere in Mollenhauer's remarks, now
slipped from his chair to his knees and folded his hands in the uplifted
attitude of a devotee before a sacred image.

"Oh, Mr. Mollenhauer," he choked, beginning to cry, "I didn't mean to do
anything wrong. Strobik and Wycroft told me it was all right. You sent
me to Cowperwood in the first place. I only did what I thought the