"I haven't the exact figures. Men often come in and ask for money to grease their gabbers with, and I give it to them without making a note of the item."
"I wouldn't believe you under oath—unless I chose," Burroughs said, equably.
Moore shrugged his shoulders. It was all a matter of a day's exigencies.
"Seems to me we've got a lot of bribe-brokers who are earning easy money," continued the candidate for Congress.
"That's no dream. But the saloons must be worked, and the men who are talking for you all the time seem to think it is worth cash money right along. They've cultivated the politician's faculty of making themselves indispensable."
"Oh, well, that's all right. I'll go to Congress if it costs me—no one knows what it costs to buy a Legislature, but I'm going to find out this winter." Burroughs looked thoughtfully at a slip of paper on the desk, then raised his eyes.
"Haven't got O'Dwyer, I see."
"No."
"What do you think he'll do?"
"I'm no mind reader."