"Met him for the first time last night," replied the ex-saloonkeeper.
Jim eyed the man skeptically and Murphy spoke with sudden heat. "That's on the level. I heard he was backing Fleckenstein and so I thought he'd help me get back at you. But he cursed me as I'll stand from no man because Underwood made a monkey of me by lugging me up there before you. No wonder his wife left the tent before he began, if that's his usual style. I'll get even with that dirty Greek."
Bill nodded. "Boss, that friend of yours has a vocabulary that'd turn a mule into a race horse."
"Murphy," said Jim, "you are Irish. My stepfather is an Irishman. He is the whitest gentleman that ever lived. It's hard for me to realize after knowing him that an Irishman can be doing the dirty work you are. But I suppose Ireland must breed men like you or Tammany would die."
Murphy hitched from one foot to the other. Jim went on in his quiet, slow way.
"I suppose you know pretty well what I'm up against on this Project. What would you do with Murphy if you were Manning?"
"I'd beat three pounds of dog meat off his face," replied Murphy, succinctly.
Jim shrugged his shoulders. "That would do neither of us any good. If I let you go, Murphy, will you give me your word of honor to let the Project absolutely alone?"
The Irishman gave Jim a quick look. "And would you take my word?"
"Not as a saloonkeeper, but as Irish, I would."