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Gilgan's quadrumvirate had not as yet got their machine in good working order, though they were doing their best to bring this about. "I helped to elect every one of these men, it's true; but that doesn't mean I'm running 'em by any means," concluded Gilgan. "Not yet, anyhow." At the "not yet" Cowperwood smiled. "Just the same, Mr.
On the day of Mr. Gilgan's call he was resplendent in a dark-brown suit with a fine red stripe in it, Cordovan leather shoes, a wine-colored tie ornamented with the emerald of so much renown, and a straw hat of flaring proportions and novel weave. About his waist, in lieu of a waistcoat, was fastened one of the eccentricities of the day, a manufactured silk sash.
I made deals with the men in the different wards that had the best chance, and that the people wanted. I'm not responsible for any crooked work that's going on behind my back, am I? I'm not responsible for men's not being straight if they're not?" Mr. Gilgan's face was an aggrieved question-mark. "But you had the picking of these men," insisted Mr. Hand, aggressively.
What's to hinder you from electin' yourself and droppin' the rest of the ticket?" He had almost said "knifing." Mr. Kerrigan smiled. In spite of all his previous dissatisfaction with the Chicago situation he had not thought of Mr. Gilgan's talk as leading to this. It was an interesting idea. He had "knifed" people before here and there a particular candidate whom it was desirable to undo.
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