r none could
afford to neglect his good will.

Besides those secret powers which it was universally believed that he
exercised in so pitiless a fashion, he was a high public official, a
municipal councillor, and a commissioner of roads, elected to the
office through the votes of the ruffians who in turn expected to receive
favours at his hands. Assessments and taxes were enormous; the public
works were notoriously neglected, the accounts were slurred over by
bribed auditors, and the decent citizen was terrorized into paying
public blackmail, and holding his tongue lest some worse thing befall
him.

Thus it was that, year by year, Boss McGinty's diamond pins became more
obtrusive, his gold chains more weighty across a more gorgeous vest, and
his saloon stretched farther and farther, until it threatened to absorb
one whole side of the Market Square.

McMurdo pushed open the swinging door of the saloon and made his way
amid the crowd of men within, through an atmosphere blurred with tobacco
smoke and heavy with the smell of spirits. The place was brilliantly
lighted, and the huge, heavily gilt mirrors upon every wall reflected
and multiplied the garish illumination. There were several bartenders
in their shirt sleeves, hard at work mixing drinks for the loungers who
fringed the broad, brass-trimmed counter.

At the far end, with his body resting upon the bar and a cigar stuck
at an acute angle from the corner of his mouth, stood a tall, strong,
heavily built man who could be none other than the famous McGinty
himself. He was a black-maned giant, bearded to the cheek-bones, and
with a shock of raven hair which fell to his collar. His complexion was
as swarthy as that of an Italian, and his eyes were of a strange dead
black, which, combined with a slight squint, gave them a particularly
sinister appearance.

All else in the man--his noble proportions, his fine features, and his
frank bearing--fitted in with that jovial, man-to-man manner which he
affected. Here, one would say, is a bluff, honest fellow, whose heart
would be sound however rude his outspoken words might seem. It was only
when those dead, dark eyes, deep and remorseless, were turned upon a man
that he shrank within himself, feeling that he was face to face with
an infinite possibility of latent evil, with a strength and courage and
cunning behind it which made it a thousand times more deadly.

Having had a good look at his man, McMurdo elbowed his way fo