“Well,” said the other, “the truth is that Wygant got cold feet before the election, and he came to Slattery and fixed it. I know that, for Slattery told me. We had him bluffed clean—I don't think we'd ever have got in at all if it hadn't been for his money.”
“I see!” whispered the boy.
“Oh, he's a smooth guy!” laughed the saloon keeper. “Look at that new franchise got for his trolley road—ninety-nine years, and anything he wants in the meantime! And then to hear him making reform speeches! That's what makes me mad about them fellows up on the hill. They get a thousand dollars for every one we get; but they are tip-top swells, and they wouldn't speak to one of us low grafters on the street. And they're eminent citizens and pillars of the church—wouldn't it make you sick?”
“Yes,” said Samuel in a low voice, “that's just what it does. It makes me sick!”
CHAPTER XXII
Samuel now had his evidence; and he went straight back to Dr. Vince. “Doctor,” he said, “I am able to tell you that I know. I have heard it from one of the men who got the money.”
“Who is he?” asked the doctor.
“I could not tell you that,” said the boy—“it would not be fair. But you know that I am telling the truth. And this man told me with his own lips that Mr. Hickman paid twenty thousand dollars to Slattery, the Democratic boss, to be paid to ten of the supervisors to vote against the other company's water bill.”