"
There was a pause. Samuel was listening with his hands clenched
tightly.
"Did he pay it to you himself?" asked Finnegan.
"Who, Hickman? No, he paid it to Slattery, and Slattery came here from
his office. Why, is he trying to crawl out of that part of it?"
"No, not exactly. But he makes a great fuss about being held up."
"Yes!" said Callahan. "I dare say! He's got his new franchise, and he
and the Lockman estate are clearing about ten thousand a month out of
it. And my two thousand was gone the week I got it--it had cost me
twice that to get elected--and without counting the free drinks. It's
a great graft, being a supervisor, ain't it?"
"Why did you do it then?" asked Samuel in a faint voice.
"I'll never do it again, young fellow," said the saloon keeper. "I'm
the Honorable John for the rest of my life, and I guess that'll do me.
And the next time old Henry Hickman wants his dirty work done, he can
hunt up somebody that needs the money more than me!"
Then the Honorable John went on to discuss the politics of
Lockmanville, and to lay bare the shameless and grotesque corruption
in a town where business interests were fighting. The trouble was,
apparently, that the people were beginning to rebel--they were tired
of being robbed in so many different ways, and they went to the
polls to find redress. And time and again, after they had elected
new men to carry out their will, the great concerns had stepped in
and bought out the law-makers.
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