"Of course you'll try to buy votes with the Challoner money you have."
"I'll get the votes—never fear."
"Try it, then—I'll match you dollar for dollar."
"Not with dollars coined from Cradlebaugh's, nor from corruptions," declared Murgatroyd.
Thorne's eyes narrowed.
"Murgatroyd," said he, "you reckon without your host—no matter who owns Cradlebaugh's—or runs it. The organisation has its finger on every Grand Jury, every petit jury, every judge. You can't accomplish the impossible until you've beaten Peter Broderick and the organisation, and until you do this you can't beat me—you can't prove your assertions—your hands are tied. The organisation backs me up."
"If your name," retorted Murgatroyd deliberately, "is presented for Senator, it will be withdrawn; and mine will be presented in its place."
"Who'll present it?" sneered Thorne.
"That," smiled Murgatroyd, mysteriously, "is my business and not yours. But inasmuch as you told me your story, Thorne," he went on, "let me tell you mine now. All my life I've struggled like the devil to get the things I wanted; and I failed. But a big change is about to take place—here and now. You stop right here; and where you stop, I begin. It's my turn! The things you want—I want. Your surest and your best desires are my desires. If you've got them in your hand, as you think you have, why then—" he clenched his hands—"I'll take them away from you. The time has come, Thorne, when you are going to get the things that you don't want,—and you are going to get them hard. I'm going to get the things you want, yes, and by George, I'll get you too! That's all I've——"
Murgatroyd did not finish; Thorne had departed.