The Mayor had broken into a high-pitched laugh; he stopped abruptly. “How many people’d there be in all the houses put together?”
“Six thousand. Five of ’em at the movies.”
“They’d start a riot!”
“Oh, I wouldn’t pinch the audiences; just the managers, and bust up the shows. Then you’d find out if the people want that law or not. We say they don’t, but how do we know? Let’s find out.”
The Mayor sat down at his desk, and began to chuckle. “Chief, that’s a bully idea––but what’d happen on Monday?”
“Happen? When, five, six thousand voters got put out in the street and their Sunday afternoon spoiled? Fellows with girls––Pa takin’ the family out for a treat––factory hands? They’d be a howlin’ mob in the Council chamber on Monday mornin’; that’s what’d happen. And one damn fool law’d be fixed so’s the Police Department’d know how to handle it.”
“It’s passing the buck!” murmured the Mayor, ecstatically. “It’s passing the buck right to the people, by George!”
“Sure. Do we go ahead with it? Want anybody tipped off?”
The Mayor was hugging his knees ecstatically. “No, we’ll make a clean sweep. No favourites. The bigger haul the better. All the boys’ll understand. Keep it dead under your 126 hat. We’ll talk over the details tomorrow.” Chuckling, he leaned back and opened his arms wide, his fists closed. “Rope!” he said. “Rope! Chief, we’ll give ’em a hawser!”