in
a year the average business in the city was working for the gangsters
and content to, at least, be permitted to stay in business.

Then the racket was transferred to other cities, slowly and on a small
scale at first; then more boldly. Chicago, Philadelphia and Washington
began to feel the pressure. The profits were divided, but always the
main share went to New York. For that was where the Big Boys were. And
ruling the Big Boys was the Old Man, who was so little known and so
seldom seen that his very existence was questioned by some of the
smaller gangsters. No one knew how he had obtained his power, but no one
was brave enough to deny it. The fact remained that he simply ruled;
reigned like a Caesar; dictated like a Napoleon. From back-stage he
pulled the wires to make his puppets dance.

It was this man who aroused the interest of Winifred Willowby. In other
times, in former generations, in far-passed centuries, they might have
ruled Rome together, or split it in two ways over their dying bodies.
But in 1935 the short sword had been replaced by the ballot box and
civil war by the primary election. Neither man had much that the other
craved for, yet both prevented the other from the full enjoyment of
life. But it was the blue-blooded patrician who at last gave in and
secretly asked for an interview.

The conference was held on a fallen log on the shore of Porter's Pond in
Pike County, Pa. Someone said that if Mark Hopkins sat on one end of a
log and a student on the other end, it was a University; but, with
Willowby on one end of the log and the Old Man on the other, it became
nothing more than a conspiracy against the existence and the very life
of the nation.

It was a strange sight, those two opposites on the log. The rich man, a
little over five feet, barely a hundred pounds, with the body of a boy
and the face of an angel. At the other end a large man, with the torso
of an ape, and the face of a Titan, a man who had conquered by crushing,
ruthlessly and devastatingly, all who had dared to oppose him. The two
were great men, but they were equally lonely. Their very positions as
leaders of their respective societies prevented any fraternizing with
their followers.

"I do not want to waste your time, Mr. Consuelo," began Willowby. "We
ought to be able to understand each other. You would do nicely if the
Federal Government would leave you alone, but it has the peculiar
ability of annoying you and interfering