Then the racket was transferred to other cities, slowly and on a small scale at first; then more boldly. Chicago, Philadelphia and Washington began to feel the pressure. The profits were divided, but always the main share went to New York. For that was where the Big Boys were. And ruling the Big Boys was the Old Man, who was so little known and so seldom seen that his very existence was questioned by some of the smaller gangsters. No one knew how he had obtained his power, but no one was brave enough to deny it. The fact remained that he simply ruled; reigned like a Caesar; dictated like a Napoleon. From back-stage he pulled the wires to make his puppets dance.
It was this man who aroused the interest of Winifred Willowby. In other times, in former generations, in far-passed centuries, they might have ruled Rome together, or split it in two ways over their dying bodies. But in 1935 the short sword had been replaced by the ballot box and civil war by the primary election. Neither man had much that the other craved for, yet both prevented the other from the full enjoyment of life. But it was the blue-blooded patrician who at last gave in and secretly asked for an interview.
The conference was held on a fallen log on the shore of Porter's Pond in Pike County, Pa. Someone said that if Mark Hopkins sat on one end of a log and a student on the other end, it was a University; but, with Willowby on one end of the log and the Old Man on the other, it became nothing more than a conspiracy against the existence and the very life of the nation.
It was a strange sight, those two opposites on the log. The rich man, a little over five feet, barely a hundred pounds, with the body of a boy and the face of an angel. At the other end a large man, with the torso of an ape, and the face of a Titan, a man who had conquered by crushing, ruthlessly and devastatingly, all who had dared to oppose him. The two were great men, but they were equally lonely. Their very positions as leaders of their respective societies prevented any fraternizing with their followers.
"I do not want to waste your time, Mr. Consuelo," began Willowby. "We ought to be able to understand each other. You would do nicely if the Federal Government would leave you alone, but it has the peculiar ability of annoying you and interfering with your plans. Am I right?"
"Absolutely! Of course, it does not make any real difference—"
"But it does annoy you—investigations of your income tax and deporting your men now and then?"
"Well, what of it?"
"Simply this. After some years of effort, I am at last able to say that I control the Government."
"That is the silly brag of a child," sneered the Old Man.