Arneel would have done so, anyhow.

Mingled with thoughts of a forthcoming financial triumph were others of
Berenice Fleming. There are such things as figments of the brain, even
in the heads of colossi. He thought of Berenice early and late; he
even dreamed of her. He laughed at himself at times for thus being
taken in the toils of a mere girl--the strands of her ruddy hair--but
working in Chicago these days he was always conscious of her, of what
she was doing, of where she was going in the East, of how happy he
would be if they were only together, happily mated.

It had so happened, unfortunately, that in the course of this summer's
stay at Narragansett Berenice, among other diversions, had assumed a
certain interest in one Lieutenant Lawrence Braxmar, U.S.N., whom she
found loitering there, and who was then connected with the naval
station at Portsmouth, New Hampshire. Cowperwood, coming East at this
time for a few days' stay in order to catch another glimpse of his
ideal, had been keenly disturbed by the sight of Braxmar and by what
his presence might signify. Up to this time he had not given much
thought to younger men in connection with her. Engrossed in her
personality, he could think of nothing as being able to stand long
between him and the fulfilment of his dreams. Berenice must be his.
That radiant spirit, enwrapt in so fair an outward seeming, must come
to see and rejoice in him. Yet she was so young and airy in her mood
that he sometimes wondered. How was he to draw near? What say exactly?
What do? Berenice was in no way hypnotized by either his wealth or
fame. She was accustomed (she little knew to what extent by his
courtesy) to a world more resplendent in its social security than his
own. Surveying Braxmar keenly upon their first meeting, Cowperwood had
liked his face and intelligence, had judged him to be able, but had
wondered instantly how he could get rid of him. Viewing Berenice and
the Lieutenant as they strolled off together along a summery seaside
veranda, he had been for once lonely, and had sighed. These uncertain
phases of affection could become very trying at times. He wished he
were young again, single.

To-night, therefore, this thought was haunting him like a gloomy
undertone, when at half past eleven the telephone rang once more, and
he heard a low, even voice which said:

"Mr. Cowperwood? This is Mr. Arneel."

"Yes."

"A number of the principal financial men of the cit