“Because I'll tell 'em to.”
“Do you mean that you'll go to the Gas Company,” sneered the reputable old gentleman, “and give its officers orders the same as you say you give them to the State's and the City's officers?”
“Th' Gas Company'll come to me, an' ask for orders.”
The reputable old gentleman drew a long breath, while his brows worked up and down.
“And dare you tell me,” he cried, “that men of millions—our leading men of business, will come to you and ask your commands?”
“My friend,” replied Big Kennedy gravely, “no matter how puffed up an' big these leadin' men of business get to be, th' Chief of Tammany is a bigger toad than any. Listen: th' bigger the target th' easier th' shot. If you'll come down here with me for a month, I'll gamble you'll meet an' make th' acquaintance of every business king in th' country. An' you'll notice, too, that they'll take off their hats, an' listen to what I say; an' in th' end, they'll do what I tell 'em to do.” Big Kennedy glowered impressively upon the reputable old gentleman. “That sounds like a song that is sung, don't it?” Then turning to me: “Tell th' Street Department not to give th' Gas Company any more permits to open streets until further orders. An' now”—coming back to the reputable old gentleman—“can't you see what'll come off?”
The reputable old gentleman looked mystified. Young Morton, for his part, began to smile.
“He sees!” exclaimed Big Kennedy, pointing to young Morton. “Here's what'll happen. Th' Gas Company has to have two hundred permits a day to tear open th' streets. After that order reaches the Street Commissioner, it won't get any.”
“'Better see the Boss,' the Street Commissioner will whisper, when the Gas Company asks what's wrong.
“The next day one of th' deck hands will come to see me. I'll turn him down; th' Chief of Tammany don't deal with deck hands. The next day th' Gas Company will send th' first mate. The mate'll get turned down; th' Chief of Tammany deals with nobody less'n a captain, d'ye see! On th' third day, or to put it like a prophet, say next Friday—since this is Tuesday—th' president of th' Gas Company will drive here in his brougham. I'll let him wait ten minutes in the outer room to take the swell out of his head. Then I'll let him in, an', givin' him th' icy eye, I'll ask: 'What's th' row?' Th' Gas Company will have been three days without permits to open th' streets;—its business will be at a standstill;—th' Gas Company'll be sweatin' blood. There'll be th' Gas Company's president, an' here'll be Big John Kennedy. I think that even you can furnish th' wind-up. As I tell you, now that I've had time to think it out, th' case will be withdrawn. Still, to make sure, we'll have Mole send th' papers over to Flyinfox, just as though we had nowhere except th' courts to look for justice.”