Merrill. Directly hereafter Mr. Haeckelheimer
approaches Mr. Edward Arneel, who is not nearly so forceful as his
father, though he would like to be so. He, strange to relate, has come
rather to admire Cowperwood and sees no advantage in a policy that can
only tend to municipalize local lines. Mr. Merrill, for Mr. Fishel,
approaches Mr. Hand. "Never! never! never!" says Hand. Mr.
Haeckelheimer approaches Mr. Hand. "Never! never! never! To the devil
with Mr. Cowperwood!" But as a final emissary for Mr. Haeckelheimer and
Mr. Fishel there now appears Mr. Morgan Frankhauser, the partner of Mr.
Hand in a seven-million-dollar traction scheme in Minneapolis and St.
Paul. Why will Mr. Hand be so persistent? Why pursue a scheme of
revenge which only stirs up the masses and makes municipal ownership a
valid political idea, thus disturbing capital elsewhere? Why not trade
his Chicago holdings to him, Frankhauser, for Pittsburg traction
stock--share and share alike--and then fight Cowperwood all he pleases
on the outside?

Mr. Hand, puzzled, astounded, scratching his round head, slaps a heavy
hand on his desk. "Never!" he exclaims. "Never, by God--as long as I
am alive and in Chicago!" And then he yields. Life does shifty things,
he is forced to reflect in a most puzzled way. Never would he have
believed it! "Schryhart," he declared to Frankhauser, "will never come
in. He will die first. Poor old Timothy--if he were alive--he
wouldn't either."

"Leave Mr. Schryhart out of it, for Heaven's sake," pleaded Mr.
Frankhauser, a genial American German. "Haven't I troubles enough?"

Mr. Schryhart is enraged. Never! never! never! He will sell out
first--but he is in a minority, and Mr. Frankhauser, for Mr. Fishel or
Mr. Haeckelheimer, will gladly take his holdings.

Now behold in the autumn of 1897 all rival Chicago street-railway lines
brought to Mr. Cowperwood on a platter, as it were--a golden platter.

"Ve haff it fixed," confidentially declared Mr. Gotloeb to Mr.
Cowperwood, over an excellent dinner in the sacred precincts of the
Metropolitan Club in New York. Time, 8.30 P.M. Wine--sparkling
burgundy. "A telegram come shusst to-day from Frankhauser. A nice man
dot. You shouldt meet him sometime. Hant--he sells out his stock to
Frankhauser. Merrill unt Edward Arneel vork vit us. Ve hantle
efferyt'ing for dem. Mr. Fishel vill haff his friends pick up all de
local shares he can, unt mit dees tree ve control de boar