"Never mind, Aileen," commented Cowperwood, with that iron determination that brooks no defeat.

"We will be a part of this.

Don't fret.

You will have everything you want in Chicago, and more besides." There was tingling over his fingers, into the reins, into the horses, a mysterious vibrating current that was his chemical product, the off-giving of his spirit battery that made his hired horses prance like children.

They chafed and tossed their heads and snorted.