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Updated: June 17, 2025
McKenty," he said, "and now I'm glad that I did. You will find, if you will take the trouble to look into this matter, that it is just as I represent it. There is a very great deal of money here in one way and another, though it will take some little time to work it out." Mr. McKenty saw the point. "Yes," he said, sweetly, "to be sure." They looked into each other's eyes as they shook hands.
McKenty, as Cowperwood was well aware, had personally no interest in the old companies and also though this he did not say no particular sympathy with them. They were just remote financial corporations to him, paying political tribute on demand, expecting political favors in return. McKenty did not pay much attention to these things personally.
How will it be when it has eight hundred thousand or a million?" "You're quite right," interpolated McKenty. "It will be pretty bad." "Exactly. But what is worse, the cable lines will carry trailers, or single cars, from feeder lines. There won't be single cars waiting at these draws there will be trains, crowded trains.
But you may depend upon it that your interests will be properly taken care of, and that whatever is done will be done with your full knowledge and consent." "All very good," answered McKenty, thinking of the new field of activity before them. A combination between himself and Cowperwood in a matter like this must prove very beneficial to both.
They cost pretty near a million apiece, those things." "I know it," said Cowperwood. "Now, do you see what I'm driving at?" "Do I see!" smiled McKenty. "That's a real idea you have, Cowperwood. I take off my hat to you. Say what you want."
"I'm not sure but you haven't hit upon a very good idea here," concluded McKenty, sympathetically. "A very good idea, indeed. Come and see me again next Monday, or about that time, and I'll let you know what I think. Come any time you have anything else you want of me. I'll always be glad to see you. It's a fine night, isn't it?" he added, looking out as they neared the door.
The editor of The Pioneer, too, became conscious of this change in the attitude of the men he had always counted upon to do his bidding at the polls. "It's that cursed doctor!" he exclaimed to McKenty, the Member for the district. "He's been working a deep game. Of course, his brother's putting up all kinds of a fight, but we expect that and we know how to handle him. But this fellow is different.
Hand was back of it, he knew for so McKenty and Addison had quickly discovered and with Hand was Schryhart, Arneel, Merrill, the Douglas Trust Company, the various editors, young Truman Leslie MacDonald, the old gas crowd, the Chicago General Company all. He even suspected that certain aldermen might possibly be suborned to desert him, though all professed loyalty.
He marveled sometimes at the man's resourcefulness. He never quarreled with the directness and incisiveness of Cowperwood's action. The man, McKenty, whom Cowperwood had in mind in this rather disturbing hour, was as interesting and forceful an individual as one would care to meet anywhere, a typical figure of Chicago and the West at the time.
They'll have to spend millions and millions before they can bring their equipment up to date. If you've paid any attention to the matter you must have seen what a condition these North and West Side lines are in." "It's pretty bad; I know that," commented McKenty. "Just so," replied Cowperwood, emphatically.
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