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That night I ran into Bolles. ... Well, he uttered a vile insult, and I all but throttled him. Here's my hand, Dick." The hand-grip that followed drew a gasp from Warrington. "Not every man would be so good about it, John. What shall we do about McQuade?" "I was about to say that I shall see McQuade within an hour," in a tone that did not promise well for McQuade. "Wait a day or two, John.
There's one thing left, though." "What?" "Injunction," said Donnelly tersely. "With Republican judges on the benches?" replied McQuade ironically. "And you can't enjoin private property," added Morrissy. "I'll send for Bennington," Donnelly volunteered. "Perhaps I can talk him into reason." "It's up to you to block this move somehow," said McQuade. "It means the labor vote.
Strong tobacco smoke rolled ceilingward, and those on the stage became blurred and nebulous. Once Warrington caught a glimpse of a battered face, but it disappeared quickly. However, he said nothing to Bennington. Again, he saw McQuade moving about, within fifty feet. From time to time McQuade stooped, and Warrington knew that the white dog was present.
If I win out, on my word of honor, I'll do something for you." "You aren't afraid of McQuade?" anxiously. "My dear Mr. Osborne, I am not afraid of the Old Nick himself. I'll give this man McQuade the biggest fight he has ever had. Bolles will have his pains for nothing. Any scandal he can rake up about my past will be pure blackmail; and I know how to deal with that breed."
Some call it Black-beetle Hole, and then again some call it the Hole of the Black-beetles. 'Yer after no good, Mr. Fitzgerald, says Mrs. McQuade, whose husband keeps the junk-shop over the Hole, putting her malicious face out of the window. "'You're the woman I want, Mrs. McQuade, says I. 'Don't be puttin' your foot in the house, says she.
Three knocks on the wall replied to his question and then McQuade went out, and three more knocks were heard. "Wonder why they make that funny noise," muttered Boggs. "Bumped inter something, I reckon," replied Jim Larkin. "Get out of my way I'm next." Boggs listened intently and then pushed Duke Lane back. "Don't like that sounds like a crack on the head. Hey, Jim!
They had only one real man in town, scoundrel though he was. There are certain phases of villainy that compel our admiration, and the villainy of McQuade was of this order. The newspapers were evidently subsidized, for their clamor was half-hearted and hypocritical. Once or twice Warrington felt a sudden longing to take off his coat and get into the fight; but the impulse was transitory.
It hasn't been easy, Dick; you've had to fight for it, and that's what I admire. You're a good, clean fighter. If I should rebel against continuing this attack against you, the attack would go on, but I shouldn't. That would do neither of us any good. McQuade might find a man with less scruples than I have. And that's how the matter stands, Dick."
A handsome trotter was coming along at a walk. In the light road-wagon sat a man and a white bulldog. It was easy for Warrington to recognize McQuade, who in turn knew that this good-looking young man must be the dramatist. The two glanced at each other casually. They were unacquainted. Not so the dogs. They had met. The white bull teetered on the seat. Jove bared his strong teeth.
"You know, or ought to know, that I get up there only once a year." "Things are not very well. There's the devil to pay in politics, and some day I may have a jolly long strike on my hands," grimly. "But I shall know exactly what to do. That man McQuade owns about all the town now.
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