"I don't exactly catch your meaning, Daley. Be a little more explicit," said Rawlings.
"Well, if you want it any plainer, I mean just this: the machine has recaptured the Investigator, after its editor's declaring he was with the people. That's all, Rawlings—that's all."
Rawlings, usually cool and collected, at once lost his temper; his lips trembled, his face flushed with anger, and raising his clenched fist, he said:
"See here, Daley, there is the door! and if you don't get out of it d——d quick, I'll throw you out! D'ye hear?" Rawlings stepped forward as if to execute his threat, and Daley quickly turned and left the office.
The next morning the Investigator appeared with the article reflecting on Daley. In the mean time Senator Hamblin visited the bank, and, meeting several party leaders, discussed the political situation, seemingly anxious concerning the position of every one with whom he conversed. He was suspicious of all, well knowing the hold he possessed on his followers was only retained by the amount of patronage at his control and the sum of money he was willing to spend for the purpose of enthusing "the boys," for no boss must let the boys become low-spirited; they may in such case take a notion to change bosses.
As the Senator dismissed two persons the door opened and Paddy Sullivan entered. Paddy was a large, red-faced, sandy-haired Irishman, his cheeks covered with a long rough beard. Holding a cigar between the second and third fingers of his left hand, he seized his black slouched hat with his right and dropped it on the table. His appearance seemed to please the Senator, for he extended a more cordial welcome to Paddy than to any previous visitors.
"How are you, Paddy?" he said, warmly grasping the great mass of flesh that individual used for a hand.
"Foine as a top, Sinitor, and how's yersel'?" quickly answered Paddy.
"Well—very well. Sit down and let's have a quiet talk. Throw away that old stump, there—try a choice Havana," and he passed a cigar-box taken from a private drawer. "Now, Paddy, how are all the boys, and how goes politics at 'The Shades'?"
"Politics has been so dull that we're only been able to dhraw about two kegs of lager a day. I've always noticed, Sinitor, that when politics is a little hazy, the boys are busted and the beer-tap only runs driblets. Ah, Sinitor, if I was in Congress, be jabers! I'd go in for a law that would have elickshun hild ivery month. But see here, Sinitor, look out for that blagyard Daley. He bought four kegs of lager lasht week; but shure I sot up six kegs for the b'ys—and—sh-h-h-h, d'ye moind—I tould 'em Sinitor Hamblin had left orders for me to do it—that I did. When the Daleys get the shtart of Paddy Sullivan and his frinds it's whin Paddy's shlapin'."