It is, of course, not given us to know what dreams of fame were in
Murgatroyd's heart when he determined to throw down the gage at the feet
of Cradlebaugh's; but, at all events, it took the best kind of courage
and mettle; and certainly from the hour that he had sent for Pemmican
and placed him on the rack in a vain attempt to get evidence, not to
speak of the time when Mrs. Challoner exposed him in the court-room, he
had never ceased his investigations of the secrets of the big
gambling-house. But no sooner had he come to the conclusion that he had
penetrated the mystery than he found himself in the centre of a vast
maelstrom of his own creation: Cradlebaugh's was but a patch in a
wilderness of riot and corruption, an incident in a series of big
events; and Murgatroyd discovered that he was battling not only with a
single institution, but with a huge political principle--he was at war
with a big city.
Another man might have been discouraged, for millionaires, large
property owners, reputable tax-payers, statesmen of the highest order,
and even his best friends came to him and begged him to call off his
crusade; but he only shook his head. As he proceeded, he made the
discovery that a political organisation is not an organisation--it is a
man; that crime is personified; and that corruption is concrete. And as
the battle waged, he found himself constantly seeking his old
stamping-ground--Cradlebaugh's. That, somehow, seemed to be the keystone
of the edifice that he assaulted.
Then, one day, agitated, breathless but triumphant, Mixley and McGrath
burst into the prosecutor's office.
"Chief," spoke out Mixley joyously, "we followed your instructions to
the letter." And beckoning to his partner, "McGrath and me has got the
goods!" McGrath pulled from his pocket a bulky document made up of
depositions, and said:--
"This here is the report, sir."
While Murgatroyd read the document, his subordinates stood watching him
with anxious eyes. Long before he had concluded they saw in his face the
expression that they had waited for.
"By George, you don't mean it!" exclaimed Murgatroyd, suddenly rising to
his feet and smiting his desk with terrific force.
"You can bet your bottom dollar that we do!" returned Mixley.
Murgatroyd clenched his teeth with inward satisfaction. Presently he
said:--
"I've waited for this for many months."
After re-reading the report he ordered his men to go to Broderick and
Thorne with the request that they come to him immediately.
An hour later Graham Thorne made his appearance, Broderick waddling in
after him. Murgatroyd passed over a box of cigars.
Broderick lighted, and after puffing contentedly for a time,
commented:--
"Good cigars, these. Strikes me that they're your first contribution to
the campaign fund, eh?" And helping himself to three more out of the
box, he tucked them away in his pocket with a wink at Murgatroyd, and
asked:--
"Any Challoner money in these?"
Murgatroyd smiled grimly.
"You seem ready enough to burn it, anyhow," he answered. And puffing
also on his cigar he said, "I wanted to have a little confidential talk
with you gentlemen."