His nod was taken up by a man who sat beside him. This individual was a square-faced, businesslike man, Raymond Coates by name. He was the principal real-estate dealer in Seaview City.
MAYOR CRUIKSHANK alone appeared doubtful. He shook his head slowly.
“It seems to me,” he announced, “that varied interpretation of a closing ordinance can lead to both trouble and criticism. We must have an effective weapon to deal with public nuisances.
“The license suspension covers that, your honor,” prompted Chief Yates. “We can close them up tight on complaint. We’ve done it quick enough, when we’ve been told to. The only trouble” — his face became grim — “is, that we’ve been kept off too much.”
“That was during the past administration,” declared Cruikshank coldly. “I can assure you, chief — and all others present — that such circumstances shall not exist while I am in office.”
“What about hotels?”
The question came from a sallow, suave-faced man. Graham Hurley was the owner and manager of the luxurious Hotel Pavilion, in which this meeting was being held. He was frank in his question, seeming to admit that it applied to his own interests.
“We don’t bother the hotels,” responded Yates, “unless a lot of trouble breaks out. Then they generally call us in before it gets bad. They’ve got to keep their business right. That’s the way it works out.”
“Gentlemen” — Rufus Cruikshank’s cold voice was stern — “we are going to administer Seaview City so that it will become the greatest resort in this country!”
“It’s that already!” interposed one of the committeemen.