"Broderick, since I've been prosecutor, I have achieved a reputation for
just three things: first, whenever I have tried to induce the Grand Jury
to indict, I've succeeded; second, whenever they indicted, I have
secured a verdict of conviction; third, my verdicts of conviction are
always affirmed upon appeal." He stood over Broderick, threateningly,
and finally declared:--
"Now, you put me in the United States Senate, or I'll put you where the
penal code provides! What are you going to do about it?"
Broderick swelled with anger.
"I'm going to call your bluff, Murgatroyd!" he yelled. "You can't work
me! And you don't dare touch me, either! Why, there ain't a man in this
whole State who dares to lay a hand on me! By George, I call your
bluff!"
Murgatroyd sat at his desk and pressed a button; the door opened and two
men entered.
"Mixley, McGrath," said Murgatroyd, picking up some rectangular slips of
paper from his desk and passing them over to them, "Chairman Peter
Broderick is going to leave this room inside of thirty seconds----"
"You bet I am!" Broderick interposed.
"There are ten warrants for his arrest," went on the prosecutor; "take
him into custody the instant he leaves this room."
"'Right, Chief!" the men replied in chorus, and, facing about, left the
room.
"Now, Broderick," said Murgatroyd, "you called my bluff--you may go."
The politician strode to the door angrily, blustering, but with his hand
on the knob, he paused. A new situation was confronting him--a thing
imminent, concrete. To cross the threshold meant a blow; Broderick crept
back to Murgatroyd.
"Do you mean this, Murgatroyd?" he queried.