"Drink?"

"Oh, I guess he boozes a little; but he's hard-headed and knows how to handle the stuff."

"Women?--Roast beef, boiled potatoes and musty ale for two."

"Actresses.--Say, make mine a beer.--A gay buck in New York, I understand. Used to chase around after the Challoner woman who married Bennington."

"Nothing here in town?"

"Haven't paid any attention to him. I guess he's straight enough these days."

"Tip Pete off to-day. The police will make a raid Sat.u.r.day night. The ministers have been shouting again, and two or three losers have whined."

"All right. But what's all this about Warrington?" asked Martin, whose curiosity was aroused.

"I'll tell you later." The waiter returned with the platters of food, and McQuade ate without further comment or question.

Martin ate his meat in silence also, but he was busy wondering.

Warrington? What had interested the boss in that swell? Humph!

These men ate quickly and digested slowly. McQuade took out two fat black cigars and pa.s.sed one to Martin, who tore off the end with his teeth.

"I want to find out all there is to know about Warrington. I can't explain why just now; too many around."

"Set Bolles after him. Bolles used to be with a private detective bureau. If there's anything to learn, he'll learn it. There he is now.

Hey, waiter, ask that gentleman looking for a vacant table to come over. h.e.l.lo, Bolles!"

"How do you do, Mr. Martin. Hot day, Mr. McQuade."

"Sit down," said McQuade, with a nod of invitation toward the remaining vacant chair. "Cigar or a drink?"

"Bring me a little whisky--no, make it an old-fashioned c.o.c.ktail.

That'll be about right."

"Mr. McQuade has a job for you, Bolles, if you're willing to undertake it."

"I've got some time on my hands just now," replied Bolles. "Contract work?"

"After a fashion," said McQuade grimly. "Eat your dinner and we'll go up stairs to my office. What I have to say can't be said here."

"All right, Mr. McQuade. If it's dagos, I'll have plenty in hand in November."

"I shall want you to go to New York," said McQuade.

"New York or San Francisco, so long as some one foots the bills."

"I'll foot 'em," agreed McQuade. "Hustle your dinner. We'll wait for you at the bar."

Bolles ordered. A job for McQuade that took him to New York meant money, money and a good time. There were no more contracts till September, so the junket to New York wouldn't interfere with his regular work. He had sublet his Italians. He was free. A few minutes later he joined McQuade, and the trio went up stairs in a cloud of tobacco smoke. McQuade nodded to the typewriter, who rose and left the private office. The three men sat down, in what might be described as a one-two-three att.i.tude: domination, tacit acceptance of this domination, and servility.

"Do you know Richard Warrington, the playwriter?"

"That sn.o.b? Yes, I know who he is, and I'd like to punch his head for him, too."

McQuade smiled. This manifest rancor on Bolles' part would make things easier than he thought.

"Well, listen. I've just been tipped that big things are going to happen this fall. That fool Donnelly has queered himself, and is making a muddle of everything he touches. Senator Henderson is a shrewd man, but he wasn't shrewd enough this time. He should have conducted his little conspiracy in his own home and not at a club where servants often find profit in selling what they hear. Henderson is going to put Warrington up for mayor."

"The h.e.l.l he is!" said Bolles.

Martin's jaw dropped, and the cigar ashes tumbled down his shirt bosom.

"It's no joke," went on McQuade. "If he is nominated, he'll win. The people are wanting a change. If the Henderson people get into the City Hall, I stand to lose a fortune on contracts. You both know what that means. Warrington must never get a chance to accept."

Bolles looked at Martin. McQuade saw the look, and, interpreting it, laughed.

"These are no dime-novel days. We don't kill men to get 'em out of the way. We take a look into their past and use it as a club."

"I begin to see," said Martin. "Warrington must be side-tracked before the convention. Good. That'll be simple."

"Not very," McQuade admitted. "It's going to be a devilish hard job.

You, Bolles, pack up and go to New York. I want some information regarding this young fellow's past in New York. It's up to you to get it. No faking, mind you; good substantial evidence that can be backed up by affidavits. Get the idea? Five hundred and expenses, if you succeed; your expenses anyhow. Five hundred is a lot of money these days. But if you go on a bat, I'll drop you like a hot brick, for good and all. Think it over. Pack up to-night, if you want to. Here's a hundred to start with. Remember this, now, there must be a woman."

"A woman?"

"Yes. A man has no past, if there isn't a woman in it."

"I can land that five hundred," Bolles declared confidently. "I can find the woman. I'll write you every other day."

"Well, then, that's all. Good luck. No boozing while you're on the job Afterward I don't care what you do. By-by."

Bolles took his dismissal smilingly. Five hundred. It was easy.

"If it's possible, he'll do it," said Martin. "But what's your campaign?"

"Donnelly must remain another term. After that, oblivion. There'll be bids this fall. If Henderson's man wins, there'll be new aldermen.

These bids of mine must go through and gas must be kept at a dollar-fifty. I'm a rich man, but at present I'm up to my neck in southern contracts that aren't paying ten cents on the dollar.

Herculaneum's got to foot the bill."

"How'd you find out about Henderson's coup?"

"One of the waiters at his club said he had some information. I gave him ten dollars for something I'd have given ten hundred for just as quickly. If Henderson had sprung Warrington in September, we'd have been swamped. Now we have a good chance to hang on."

"Force him to back down and withdraw?"

McQuade nodded.

"It's simply got to be done. I didn't give Henderson credit for so clever a move as this. A new man, famous and wealthy, under no obligations to his party; the voters would follow him just for the novelty of the thing. Besides, there are other reasons, but I'm keeping them to myself. How about that pavement deal in John Street?"