ithout ammunition to return Gibson's crossfire of charges
against the administration. He was deserted, except for a few loyal
supporters, who struggled vainly to stem the tide of popular favor as it
swung to Gibson's side.

Gibson scored heavily three weeks after his campaign was opened by
hurling charges that "Gink" Cummings was contributing to the mayor's
campaign fund and placing his sinister strength at his disposal to aid
him to be re-elected. Astounded by his opponent's audacity, the mayor
sent for Brennan and John. His mild blue eyes were blazing and he chewed
vigorously at his cigar.

"I'm licked, boys, unless I do something soon," he said. "I have to play
a waiting game, but I can't afford to wait too long. I can't come out
with the charge that Cummings and Gibson are plotting to steal the city.
I haven't enough evidence. People would think I am crazy. As it is, he's
getting away with everything. If the primary was tomorrow he'd snow me
under."

"He's pulling all the tricks in the bag," admitted Brennan.

"And I have nothing to come back at him with," the mayor complained.

"Why don't you fire him from his position as police commissioner?"
suggested Brennan.

The mayor stopped short on the invisible path he had been pacing back
and forth across his office.

"Brennan," he said, "I thought you had more sense than to suggest a
thing like that. What reason could I give for firing him?"

"Say it's for the good of the service, that's all."

"And give him a chance to wail that I fired him because I am afraid of
him, that I did it in desperation to save myself. Why, it would give him
10,000 votes of sympathy. No, Brennan, I must get something real to show
that Gibson and 'Gink' Cummings are partners."

He turned and walked to the window, placing his hands on both sides of
it, and leaned forward, his arms supporting him as he looked down into
the busy traffic on Broadway. It was a position similar to that he had
taken when John first met him, when he vowed to expose Gibson's alliance
with Cummings, but the shoulders drooped and the outlines of his
figure, silhouetted against the light streaming in the window suggested
great bodily and mental weariness.

"Is it possible that I'm to go down to defeat, to disgrace, to ignominy,
at the hands of such a despicable rascal?" he said, without turning, as
though he was speaking to himself. "Is this to be my reward--my end? Are
the people of my city to be led like bli