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He was just innately subtle, with the rather constructive thought, which was about the only thing that compelled him to work, that he ought to be richer than he was more conspicuous. Cowperwood was an excellent avenue toward legal prosperity. Besides, he was a fascinating customer. Of all his clients, Steger admired Cowperwood most.
Steger saw that it was needless to introduce any additional arguments. "It's a very ticklish business, this, Mr. Steger," put in the sheriff, yieldingly, and yet with a slight whimper in his voice. "If anything were to happen, it would cost me my place all right. I don't like to do it under any circumstances, and I wouldn't, only I happen to know both Mr. Cowperwood and Mr.
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.
It was really too much to expect, most of them thought, that a man like this would be convicted. He was, no doubt, guilty; but, also, no doubt, he had ways and means of evading the law. His lawyer, Harper Steger, looked very shrewd and canny to them. It was very cold, and both men wore long, dark, bluish-gray overcoats, cut in the latest mode.
Steger came over and held a short, private conversation with him in his corner, over his desk which resulted presently in the sheriff's face lighting up. "Oh, certainly, certainly! That's all right, Mr. Steger, to be sure! Why, certainly!" Cowperwood, eyeing the fat sheriff from his position, understood what it was all about.
They're not going to give up good properties like this, even if Stener does go to jail." Steger did not know of the sixty thousand dollars' worth of hypothecated securities as yet. Neither did he know of Aileen Butler and her father's boundless rage. There was one development in connection with all of this of which Cowperwood was as yet unaware.
The horror of idleness in silence and in a cell scarcely large enough to turn around in comfortably had already begun to creep over him, and the thought of being able to see Wingate and Steger frequently, and to have his mail reach him, after a time, untampered with, was a great relief.
Since it is the privilege of the lawyer for the defense to address the jury first, Steger bowed politely to his colleague and came forward. Putting his hands on the jury-box rail, he began in a very quiet, modest, but impressive way: "Gentlemen of the jury, my client, Mr.
If, before it comes to that, I could effect an arrangement agreeable to you, I would be much pleased. As you know, I have been greatly grieved by the whole course of your recent affairs. I am intensely sorry that things are as they are." Mr. Steger lifted his eyes in a very pained, deprecatory way. He regretted deeply the shifty currents of this troubled world. Mrs.
She had made a very careful toilet as to her shoes, gloves, hair, and the gold ornaments which she wore. Her face was concealed by a thick green veil, as Cowperwood had suggested; and she arrived at an hour when, as near as he had been able to prearrange, he would be alone. Wingate usually came at four, after business, and Steger in the morning, when he came at all.
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