“That’s what I t’ought. And how about O’Connor for Gartenheim?”
“There’s no difference,” said Nolan. “If one was ast to work for the other he’d git dead wise all of a sudden and t’ink he was bein’ worked for a good t’ing, and havin’ a con game slung into him from the start! It won’t do; take it from me.”
“Then I’ve gotta bran’ new graft!” exclaimed Larry starting up the aisle.
“What is it?” asked Ferguson, following him, his hand upon his sleeve.
“Sit down and hold yer breath; youse’ll be wise in a minute.”
Larry said something to Kerrigan in a low tone. Johnnie looked surprised; he closed his remarks abruptly and sat down, while Larry nodded to the chair for recognition. Upon obtaining this he wasted no words.
“Gentlemen,” said he, “I’m goin’ to put in nomination a man that youse can all vote for.” He paused a moment and glanced around at the expectant faces; he raised both arms, with a sweep and shouted: “Mr. John Kerrigan, of the 12th Division!”
For an instant there was dead silence; then the anti-Kellyites came to their feet with an ear-splitting scream of delight. Kerrigan sprang to Larry’s side protesting excitedly; men stood upon chairs and beat the backs of their neighbours; pandemonium reigned. Kerrigan was ringed in by dozens of outstretched hands; his appeals for a hearing were drowned by the clamour of his partisans.
James Kelly was stricken mute; a moment before he had seen victory in his grasp; now it had eluded him and was dancing away in the distance. McQuirk looked on at the scene of disorder, astonished at Larry’s act. He had expected to hear the name of a man steeped in the factional differences of the ward—a man easily beaten—and now he was at a loss, for here was one not only without political enemies but with fast friends in every faction of the party.
“It ain’t a half-bad move,” said the boss to himself, angry, but forced to admiration. “If I wasn’t sure about McGlory, I’d say the thing was fixed.”