It is, of course, not given us to know what dreams of fame were in Murgatroyd's heart when he determined to throw down the gage at the feet of Cradlebaugh's; but, at all events, it took the best kind of courage and mettle; and certainly from the hour that he had sent for Pemmican and placed him on the rack in a vain attempt to get evidence, not to speak of the time when Mrs. Challoner exposed him in the court-room, he had never ceased his investigations of the secrets of the big gambling-house. But no sooner had he come to the conclusion that he had penetrated the mystery than he found himself in the centre of a vast maelstrom of his own creation: Cradlebaugh's was but a patch in a wilderness of riot and corruption, an incident in a series of big events; and Murgatroyd discovered that he was battling not only with a single institution, but with a huge political principle—he was at war with a big city.

Another man might have been discouraged, for millionaires, large property owners, reputable tax-payers, statesmen of the highest order, and even his best friends came to him and begged him to call off his crusade; but he only shook his head. As he proceeded, he made the discovery that a political organisation is not an organisation—it is a man; that crime is personified; and that corruption is concrete. And as the battle waged, he found himself constantly seeking his old stamping-ground—Cradlebaugh's. That, somehow, seemed to be the keystone of the edifice that he assaulted.

Then, one day, agitated, breathless but triumphant, Mixley and McGrath burst into the prosecutor's office.

"Chief," spoke out Mixley joyously, "we followed your instructions to the letter." And beckoning to his partner, "McGrath and me has got the goods!" McGrath pulled from his pocket a bulky document made up of depositions, and said:—

"This here is the report, sir."

While Murgatroyd read the document, his subordinates stood watching him with anxious eyes. Long before he had concluded they saw in his face the expression that they had waited for.

"By George, you don't mean it!" exclaimed Murgatroyd, suddenly rising to his feet and smiting his desk with terrific force.

"You can bet your bottom dollar that we do!" returned Mixley.

Murgatroyd clenched his teeth with inward satisfaction. Presently he said:—

"I've waited for this for many months."

After re-reading the report he ordered his men to go to Broderick and Thorne with the request that they come to him immediately.

An hour later Graham Thorne made his appearance, Broderick waddling in after him. Murgatroyd passed over a box of cigars.

Broderick lighted, and after puffing contentedly for a time, commented:—

"Good cigars, these. Strikes me that they're your first contribution to the campaign fund, eh?" And helping himself to three more out of the box, he tucked them away in his pocket with a wink at Murgatroyd, and asked:—

"Any Challoner money in these?"

Murgatroyd smiled grimly.

"You seem ready enough to burn it, anyhow," he answered. And puffing also on his cigar he said, "I wanted to have a little confidential talk with you gentlemen."

Broderick nudged Thorne and remarked:—

"Perhaps the prosecutor's goin' to divvy with us, Thorne!"

Murgatroyd smiled and laughed; but somehow the smile and laugh did not include Thorne.

"I'm not going to divvy up, as you call it, just yet—not just yet," he replied, pointedly.

Broderick shut his eyes and digested the glance and the reply. Both seemed to satisfy him, for he nodded genially.

Rising now, and sitting lazily across one corner of his desk, Murgatroyd turned his attention to Thorne.

"I wanted to have a talk," he said casually, "with the man who owns Cradlebaugh's."

Thorne looked about the room, then he inquired innocently:—

"He doesn't seem to have arrived as yet—where is he?"

Murgatroyd blew a cloud of smoke toward the ceiling, and answered:—

"Oh, yes he has—his name is Graham Thorne." Murgatroyd could see the pallor of Thorne's face turn to a deeper white; he could feel that the ruddiness upon the countenance of Broderick had deepened into scarlet.

There was a pause. After a moment, Thorne rose and said indignantly:—

"Say that again!"

"With pleasure," returned Murgatroyd, "I say that you are the hitherto unknown owner of the most notorious gambling-house within the State."

There was another pause in which Thorne looked at Broderick and Broderick looked at Thorne.

"This is preposterous!" exclaimed Thorne.

Murgatroyd made no answer. Then he proceeded with assertions.

"And with the earnings of that gambling-house," he said evenly, "you have stopped the mouths, closed the eyes and ears, and paralysed the hands of the authorities. With the earnings of that gambling-house, you have bought the influence of Chairman Peter Broderick, who lives upon those earnings—grows fat upon them."

Broderick's eyes bulged; he, too, rose and started toward the prosecutor.

"Say," he yelled, "I'll open up my anatomy to you! Pick out any ounce o' fat and tell me Cradlebaugh's put it there! Come on—my fat is my own—I earned it by the sweat of my brow!"

With perfect coolness, Murgatroyd continued:—

"Thorne, ever since you sprang into prominence here, you have posed in this community as a self-made man—boasted of carving your success by industry, integrity and brains. And yet—" pointing a finger of accusation toward him—"you have bought every item of your reputation, every iota of your respectability!" He stopped for an instant, and then: "Every inch of your political progress, you've bought with this tainted money, and with the same kind of money you'd buy the United States Senatorship—if you could."

"Lies—all deliberate lies!" Thorne ejaculated.

"Worse than slanderin' my fat!" added Peter Broderick.

Before Murgatroyd could speak again, Thorne took another tack.

"What evidence have you, I should like to know?" he said; "you can't prove these things, Murgatroyd."

"That," returned Murgatroyd, "is for me to worry about—not you. I'm going on, and when I'm through, you can stake your last dollar that I'll know all about this rotten system that you call your organisation—from the most insignificant ward politician up to Peter Broderick!"

The accusing forefinger shifted from Thorne to the County Chairman; under it the avoirdupois of that gentleman seemed to shrivel and grow less. In all his career no man had ever honoured Broderick with this kind of talk, and he wasn't used to it. All at once, he felt that his courage was slipping from him.

"I've got to see a man—" he began, looking nervously at his watch; then hunching his shoulders, he stole softly and almost on tiptoe to the door.

"Broderick!" sung out the prosecutor sharply.

Broderick stopped, but did not look back.

"Broderick!" thundered Murgatroyd, "I want you in this office to-morrow afternoon at four o'clock—I want to have a talk with you—alone. If you don't come, I'll—send for you. Do you understand?"

Broderick did not answer; he opened the door, and slipping through it, disappeared.

Murgatroyd laughed, and turning to Thorne, he went on:—

"Thorne, I sent for you to tell you to close up Cradlebaugh's—to close it up at once. If you don't——"

But Thorne's self-possession had come back, and he demanded fearlessly:—

"And what about you, Murgatroyd? Are your hands clean?"

The tiger leaped into Murgatroyd's face; his eyes flashed fire; the accuser became the fighter.

"I can take care of myself!" he answered quickly. "I'm talking about you, now. You are sworn as a counsellor to uphold the law; you have lined your pockets and built up your career with the coin of suicides, profligates, drunkards, like Challoner, for instance.

"Yes," he went on, "and there is something more between you and me than this, Thorne." His voice now dropped almost to a whisper: "You have the effrontery to pay attentions to——"

Thorne interrupted him, his tone, his glance, his manner leaping at once into insolence.

"So that's how the land lies, is it? Well, let me tell you something that possibly you already know. All my life I have had the things I wanted—all my desires have been fulfilled. I wanted money—I got it. I wanted power, social and political—I got it. I have never stopped; I have always progressed. You have already said that I would be Senator of the United States—if I could. I tell you that I shall! Again, you have hinted at a woman who is worth while.... Well, I'm going on and on and on, in spite of you——"

"You are going on to your finish," returned Murgatroyd. "I have only just begun with you. Before I go further, it may be just as well for you to relinquish the last two of your desires. I don't demand it—I advise it."

Thorne glanced uncertainly at the prosecutor, who had spoken with complete assurance. Thorne recognised the danger. Murgatroyd had been getting indictments lately, and for every indictment, a conviction. Thorne did not know what proof Murgatroyd had in his possession, and he knew of no way that he could find out. Besides, the people liked Murgatroyd. Thorne believed in compromise, therefore he extended his hand.

"Look here, Murgatroyd," he said, "you know neither of us can afford to have things like these talked about. Don't let us sling mud—let's fight in the open. A fair fight and no favour—let's be decent."

"Why don't you get your ammunition in the open, then?" asked the prosecutor.

Thorne flared up.

"Why didn't you?"

Murgatroyd smiled and said:—

"You'll find my ammunition in the open, Thorne, the next time the legislature meets to choose a Senator!"

Thorne's insolence had returned as he demanded:—

"Do you mean to tell me that your name will be presented in the caucus?"

"That's precisely what I mean."

"Of course you'll try to buy votes with the Challoner money you have."

"I'll get the votes—never fear."

"Try it, then—I'll match you dollar for dollar."

"Not with dollars coined from Cradlebaugh's, nor from corruptions," declared Murgatroyd.

Thorne's eyes narrowed.

"Murgatroyd," said he, "you reckon without your host—no matter who owns Cradlebaugh's—or runs it. The organisation has its finger on every Grand Jury, every petit jury, every judge. You can't accomplish the impossible until you've beaten Peter Broderick and the organisation, and until you do this you can't beat me—you can't prove your assertions—your hands are tied. The organisation backs me up."

"If your name," retorted Murgatroyd deliberately, "is presented for Senator, it will be withdrawn; and mine will be presented in its place."

"Who'll present it?" sneered Thorne.

"That," smiled Murgatroyd, mysteriously, "is my business and not yours. But inasmuch as you told me your story, Thorne," he went on, "let me tell you mine now. All my life I've struggled like the devil to get the things I wanted; and I failed. But a big change is about to take place—here and now. You stop right here; and where you stop, I begin. It's my turn! The things you want—I want. Your surest and your best desires are my desires. If you've got them in your hand, as you think you have, why then—" he clenched his hands—"I'll take them away from you. The time has come, Thorne, when you are going to get the things that you don't want,—and you are going to get them hard. I'm going to get the things you want, yes, and by George, I'll get you too! That's all I've——"

Murgatroyd did not finish; Thorne had departed.

The next day at four o'clock there was a resounding rap on the prosecutor's private office door.

"Come in!" said Murgatroyd.

The door opened, and Peter Broderick came puffing into the room with perfect nonchalance. He had had a day to think things over, and he had made up his mind that the outburst of the prosecutor had been all bluster. Seizing a chair, he drew it up to the desk and sat down, saying:—

"I never refuse an invitation to see a man alone; and now that we are alone, I don't mind telling you that I'm ready for another one of them good cigars."

The prosecutor passed a box, from which Broderick helped himself to a cigar, lit it, and after sending a few clouds of smoke in the air, went on:—

"Do you know, Murgatroyd, that I haven't had a good chance to talk to you since the Challoner case—you've been so blamed offish all the time. But now, here I am sittin' here with you,—you, the only mugwump in the town that I ever used to be afraid of,—and you know I can say any blamed thing I please to you, and you got to take it and say nothin'. Do you know that I'm one of the few that believe the truth about that bribe?"

Murgatroyd smiled.

"In other words, you think we're both in the same boat—is that it?"

"Not a bit of it!" returned Broderick. "I'm in a coal barge; you're in a motor boat. Why, Murgatroyd, there's many a man been in honest politics all his life, like me, for instance, and who's never pulled out three quarters of a million! Not much! And out of one deal, too! Why, look at me?" he went on glibly, "I've been in a lot of deals; but that gets me! Three quarters of a million and more on just one deal! Confound it, man, do you know the most I ever made out of any one deal?"

Murgatroyd lit a cigar, leaned back in his chair and inquired in an offhand manner:—

"How much?"

Broderick shook his finger at him.

"Foxy, foxy boy! Do you think I'd give up to you so easy? This particular deal I'm tellin' you about, is away back outside the statute of limitations. You couldn't get me on it if you would. It was the Terwilliger tract—I was chairman of the common council, finance committee, you remember? Bought the tract for twenty-five hundred and sold it to the city for two hundred and eighty thousand. That's me!"

"Good work!" said Murgatroyd, with genuine admiration. "I didn't know that you were in on that."

"In on it?" snorted Broderick. "I was the whole show! That's where I'm coy, my dear boy; it takes Broderick to do these things; but it takes a bigger man than Broderick to find 'em out."

Murgatroyd shook his head.

"They found me out, all right," he said.

Broderick waved his hand, and answered:—

"Not a bit of it! It's all blown over, and if it hasn't, it will. All they'll remember, after a while, is that you've got a wad of money. They'll forget how you got it, and they won't care." He puffed away and purred contentedly.

"You're a giant," he went on, "an intellectual giant to bag six figures." Then he waved his hand about the room and said: "You take this old court-house, for instance; I was on the buildin' committee, but to save my life—hold on a minute—" he pulled himself up with a round turn, "that was outside the statute, of course it was. Well, to save my life I couldn't pull more 'n a hundred and twenty-three thousand out of it. I came near gettin' caught, too," he admitted, laughing.

"But you weren't," commented Murgatroyd.

"No, sir!" said Broderick. "I don't do jobs that way. You could have gone through the thing with a microscope, and you wouldn't have found hair nor hide of Broderick."

Murgatroyd lazily closed his eyes, and murmured:—

"Tell me about the new hospital—that little concrete job."

Broderick leaned forward, his face growing crimson as he did so, and peered into the face of Murgatroyd.

"What are you gettin' at?"

Murgatroyd opened a drawer within his desk and took out a bulky batch of papers.

"Broderick," he said severely, "do you know that I've got you implicated in more than thirty different violations of the law right here in town?"

"Me?" Broderick looked incredulous.

"Yes, you!" answered Murgatroyd, evenly.

Broderick held out his hand, and asked with a show of interest:—

"What are they, anyway?"

"See for yourself," returned Murgatroyd; and leaning back in his chair comfortably, he gave himself up to watching the changes in the countenance of the other, who proceeded to scan the batch of papers with marked interest. And, although Broderick made no comments, he did a lot of thinking. Finally eyeing Murgatroyd with suspicion, he asked:—

"Without prejudice to anybody's rights, I'd like to know how you got all this?"

"It's easy when you know how," returned Murgatroyd, smiling; "and I've learned how."

Broderick's face broke into a confused, distorted smile.

"Now, without making any damaging admissions," he conceded, "do you know it would be blamed uncomfortable for me if I were dealing with any other prosecutor than you?"

The prosecutor smiled again.

"How do you know it won't be uncomfortable for you as it is?"

Broderick burst into a laugh.

"You an' me is two of a kind—grafters together, tarred with the same stick. That's why."

Murgatroyd nodded, took back the list and laid it down.

"That's all right, Broderick," he assented, "I didn't send for you about these things. I've got a little job for you to do."

"Out with it!" said Broderick.

Murgatroyd leaned forward and told him in a low voice:—

"Broderick, I want to sit in the Senate of the United States."

Broderick jumped to his feet, exclaiming:—

"What!"

"Yes, I want to sit in the Senate," repeated Murgatroyd.

Broderick burst into a peal of laughter that well-nigh shook the building.

"And you want me to help you?" roared Broderick.

"Yes, of course," persisted Murgatroyd.

Once more Broderick laughed immoderately.

"You'll be the death of me," he said, sinking into his chair.

"You laugh too soon," remarked Murgatroyd.

"Is there more comin'?" questioned Broderick, with a howl. "You know the valvular workin's of my heart ain't over strong. You're crazy, man!" he added; "the whole organisation is against you!"

"The whole organisation," repeated Murgatroyd, "except you."

"You blamed idiot!" roared Broderick. "The organisation's against you because I am."

"I've got to be the next Senator," persisted Murgatroyd; "and you've got to put me there."

"I can't put you there."

Murgatroyd cast an appealing glance at the other.

"But—you want to, don't you?"

"Indeed I do not!" returned Broderick, indignantly.

Murgatroyd rose to his feet, saying, as though speaking to a spoiled child:—

"I don't like to see that spirit; it looks as though you were opposed to me."

"Have I ever been anythin' else?" returned Broderick. "Will I ever be anythin' else?"

Murgatroyd continued to reprove him.

"I prefer to see a man do with a good grace that which he has to do."

"And who has got to do?" queried Broderick, also rising.

"I have just told you," went on Murgatroyd, looking him full in the face, "that you've got to put me in the Senate."

Instantly Broderick became doggedly belligerent.

"I'll spend my last dollar to keep you out of it—I'll work against you till I drop in my tracks!"

Murgatroyd seized a small thick book and leafed it over.

"You'll do both," he remarked, "and when you drop in your tracks, Broderick, it will be with hard labour. Sit down, and take that pencil and piece of paper—I want you to do some figuring."

Broderick, wondering, seated himself; Murgatroyd peered over the little book.

"Seven and seven are fourteen," he mused, "and six are twenty, and eleven——"

"What have you got there?" Broderick asked with mild interest.

"The Penal Code," answered Murgatroyd, lightly.

"Look under B. for Bribe," suggested Broderick, with an accusing glance.

Murgatroyd shook his head.

"I'm just figuring up the number of years you'd have to serve——"

"But I'm not goin' to the Senate," protested the politician.

"No, but I am," retorted the prosecutor. "Four times six are twenty-four; besides the amount of fines you'll have to pay. Take the first on the list, Broderick. You'll get seven years on that, and seven thousand dollars fine. Put that down."

"I'll put nothin' down—I never was a hand at figures."

"Then I'll do it. Twenty indictments for corrupting voters—I've got the goods on that; twenty years and twenty thousand dollars fines. Hold on a minute, we won't add up just yet. There's your interest in Cradlebaugh's; there's the hospital; there's your pool-rooms; log-rolling with police-headquarters—Why, say, Broderick," he exclaimed suddenly, gasping with surprise, "it will cost you in the neighbourhood of one hundred thousand cash in fines!"

"You don't say!" sarcastically returned the chairman.

"And," continued Murgatroyd, suavely, "about one hundred and thirty-five years to serve in sentences."

"I'm booked for a ripe old age," returned Broderick, still with sarcasm in his voice.

"So that eliminates you from the Senate," facetiously continued the prosecutor; "you'll go up for the rest of your unnatural life." He paused and shot at Broderick a glance that went home—one that meant business.

Broderick squirmed.

"You don't mean to tell me, prosecutor," he exclaimed, "that you're going to prosecute me for these things?"

The other shrugged his shoulders.

"How can I help it?"

"You don't dare prosecute me! You blamed idiot!" screamed Broderick. "If you do, I'll send you up myself—you with three-quarters of a million dirty money in your clothes."

Murgatroyd thought over his words and weighed them. Presently, he said:—

"I would get out in five years; you would be there for a hundred and thirty more."

Broderick snorted with rage.

"What are you driving at, anyway?"

The prosecutor was silent for a moment, then he said:—

"Broderick, since I've been prosecutor, I have achieved a reputation for just three things: first, whenever I have tried to induce the Grand Jury to indict, I've succeeded; second, whenever they indicted, I have secured a verdict of conviction; third, my verdicts of conviction are always affirmed upon appeal." He stood over Broderick, threateningly, and finally declared:—

"Now, you put me in the United States Senate, or I'll put you where the penal code provides! What are you going to do about it?"

Broderick swelled with anger.

"I'm going to call your bluff, Murgatroyd!" he yelled. "You can't work me! And you don't dare touch me, either! Why, there ain't a man in this whole State who dares to lay a hand on me! By George, I call your bluff!"

Murgatroyd sat at his desk and pressed a button; the door opened and two men entered.

"Mixley, McGrath," said Murgatroyd, picking up some rectangular slips of paper from his desk and passing them over to them, "Chairman Peter Broderick is going to leave this room inside of thirty seconds——"

"You bet I am!" Broderick interposed.

"There are ten warrants for his arrest," went on the prosecutor; "take him into custody the instant he leaves this room."

"'Right, Chief!" the men replied in chorus, and, facing about, left the room.

"Now, Broderick," said Murgatroyd, "you called my bluff—you may go."

The politician strode to the door angrily, blustering, but with his hand on the knob, he paused. A new situation was confronting him—a thing imminent, concrete. To cross the threshold meant a blow; Broderick crept back to Murgatroyd.

"Do you mean this, Murgatroyd?" he queried.

Murgatroyd was busy at his desk and did not look up as he remarked:—

"This interview is over."

Rebuffed once more, Broderick crept to the door, but again he came back, and whispered uncertainly:—

"So you want to be United States Senator, eh? The best job that we've got?" He hesitated for an instant before asking:—

"Can I be of any help?"

Murgatroyd laid down his pen and looked up, smiling.

"Now you are talking sense, Broderick. Yes, you and Thorne can help me."

"Thorne! Great Scott! I never thought of him! Why, he's the organisation nominee, and I'm tied up with him! Say, honest, Murgatroyd, I can't go back on him—Murgatroyd, you can't make it—for even I can't undo all that's been done. Thorne has been slated for that job for months."

"You've got to sponge him off the slate, then," returned the prosecutor.

"I'll be everlastingly confounded if I do!" returned Broderick.

Murgatroyd pressed a button; Mixley came in on the jump.

"Mixley," began Murgatroyd.

"Hold on!" said Broderick, "I'll help you——"

Murgatroyd nodded.

"Warmly, energetically, enthusiastically——"

"Oh, all that," interrupted Broderick.

"Mixley," said the chief, "you can hold those warrants—until after the next Senatorial election."

Broderick gasped; Mixley's nod as he left the room spoke volumes.

"Broderick," said Murgatroyd, looking him in the eye, "you mean business—you're going to back me straight?"

"Not because I want to, but because I've got to," returned the politician. "It seems I must...."

He paused and returned Murgatroyd's glance significantly. After a moment, he said:—

"Well, fork over, then...."

Murgatroyd smiled.

"How much?..."

"Thorne will spend and has spent a lot of money," answered Broderick; "and you've got to——"

"How much will it take?" asked Murgatroyd.

"How much have you got left?" responded Broderick.

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