VII
THE GANG LEADER
With the arrest of Dopey Jack, it seemed as if all the forces of thegang world were solidified for the final battle.
Carton had been engaged in a struggle with the System so long that heknew just how to get action, the magistrates he could depend on, thevarious pitfalls that surrounded the snaring of one high in gangland,the judges who would fix bail that was prohibitively high.
As he had anticipated and prepared for, every wire was pulled to securethe release of Rubano. But Carton was fortunate in having under him agroup of young and alert assistants. It took the combined energies ofhis office, however, to carry the thing through and Kennedy and I didnot see Carton again for some time.
Meanwhile we were busy gathering as much information as we could aboutthose who were likely to figure in the case. It was remarkable, but wefound that the influence of Dorgan and Murtha was felt in the mostunexpected quarters. People who would have talked to us on almost anyother subject, absolutely refused to become mixed up in this affair. Itwas as though the System practised terrorism on a large scale.
Late in the afternoon we met in Carton's office, to compare notes onthe progress made during the day.
The District Attorney greeted us enthusiastically.
"Well," he exclaimed as he dropped into his big office chair, "this hasbeen a hard day for me--but I've succeeded."
"How?" queried Kennedy.
"Of course the newspapers haven't got it yet," pursued Carton, "but ithappened that there was a Grand Jury sitting and considering electioncases. It went hard, but I made them consider this case of Dopey Jack.I don't know how it happened, but I seem to have succeeded in forcingaction in record time. They have found an indictment on the electioncharges, and if that falls through, we shall have time to set up othercharges against him. In fact we are 'going to the mat,' so to speak,with this case."
The office telephone rang and after a few sentences of congratulation,Carton turned to us, his spirits even higher than before. "That was oneof my assistants," he explained, "one of the cleverest. The trial willbe before Judge Pomeroy in General Sessions and it will be an earlytrial. Pomeroy is one of the best of them, too--about to retire, andwants to leave a good record on the bench behind him. Things areshaping up as well as we could wish for."
The door opened and one of Carton's clerks started to announce the nameof a visitor.
"Mr. Carton, Mr.--"
"Murtha," drawled a deep voice, as the owner of the name strode in,impatiently brushing aside the clerk. "Hello, Carton," greeted theSub-boss aggressively.
"Hello, Murtha," returned Carton, retaining his good temper and seeingthe humour of the situation, where the practice of years was reversedand the mountain was coming to Mahomet. "This is alittle--er--informal--but I'm glad to see you, nevertheless," he addedquietly. "Won't you sit down? By the way, meet Mr. Kennedy and Mr.Jameson. Is there anything I can do for you?"
Murtha shook hands with us suspiciously, but did not sit down. Hecontinued to stand, his hat tilted back over his head and his hugehands jammed down into his trousers pockets.
"What's this I hear about Jack Rubano, Carton?" he opened fire. "Theytell me you have arrested him and secured an indictment."
"They tell the truth," returned Carton shortly. "The Grand Juryindicted Dopey Jack this afternoon. The trial---"
"Dopey Jack," quoted Murtha in disgusted tones. "That's the way it isnowadays. Give a dog a bad name--why,--I suppose this bad name's goingto stick to him all his life, now. It ain't right. You know, Carton, aswell as I do that if they charged him with just plain fighting and gothim before a jury, all you would have to say would be, 'Gentlemen, thedefendant at the bar is the notorious gangster, Dopey Jack.' And thejurors wouldn't wait to hear any more, but'd say, 'Guilty!' just likethat. And he'd go up the river for the top term. That's what a boy likethat gets once the papers give him such an awful reputation. It'sfierce!"
Carton shook his head. "Oh, Murtha," he remonstrated with just atwinkle in his eye, "you don't think I believe that sort of soft stuff,do you? I've had my eye on this 'boy'--he's twenty-eight, by theway--too long. You needn't tell me anything about his respectable oldfather and his sorrowing mother and weeping sister. Murtha, I've beenin this business too long for that heart throb stuff. Leave that to thelawyers the System will hire for him. Let's cut that out, betweenourselves, and get down to brass tacks."
It was a new and awkward role for Murtha as suppliant, and he evidentlydid not relish it. Aside from his own interest in Dopey Jack, who wasone of his indispensables, it was apparent that he came as an emissaryfrom Dorgan himself to spy out the land and perhaps reach some kind ofunderstanding.
He glanced about at us, with a look that broadly hinted that he wouldprefer to see Carton alone. Carton made no move to ask us to leave andKennedy met the boss's look calmly. Murtha smothered his rage, althoughI knew he would with pleasure have had us stuck up or blackjacked.
"See here, Carton." he blurted out at length, approaching the desk ofthe District Attorney and lowering his big voice as much as he wascapable, "can't we reach some kind of agreement between ourselves? Youlet up on Rubano--and--well, I might be able to get some of my friendsto let up on Carton. See?"
He was conveying as guardedly as he could a proposal that if theDistrict Attorney would consent to turn his back while the law stumbledin one of the numerous pitfalls that beset a criminal prosecution, theorganization would deliver the goods, quietly pass the word along toknife its own man and allow Carton to be re-elected.
I studied Carton's face intently. To a man of another stripe, theproposal might have been alluring. It meant that although theorganization ticket won, he would, in the public eye at least, have thecredit of beating the System, of going into office unhampered, ofhaving assured beyond doubt what was at best only problematical withthe Reform League.
Carton did not hesitate a moment. I thought I saw in his face the samehardening of the lines of his features in grim determination that I hadseen when he had been talking to Miss Ashton. I knew that, among otherthings, he was thinking how impossible it would be for him ever to faceher again in the old way, if he sold out, even in a negative way, tothe System.
Murtha had shot his huge face forward and was peering keenly at the manbefore him.
"You'll--think it over?" he asked.
"I will not--I most certainly will not," returned Carton, for the firsttime showing exasperation, at the very assumption of Murtha. "Mr.Murtha," he went on, rising and leaning forward over the desk, "we aregoing to have a fair election, if I can make it. I may be beaten--I maywin. But I will be beaten, if at all, by the old methods. If I win--itwill be that I win--honestly."
A half sneer crossed Murtha's face. He neither understood nor cared tounderstand the kind of game Carton played.
"You'll never get anything on that boy," blustered Murtha. "Do yousuppose I'm fool enough to come here and make a dishonestproposition--here--right in front of your own friends?" he added,turning to us. "--I ain't asking any favours, or anything dishonest.His lawyers know what they can do and what you can do. It ain't becauseI care a hang about you, Carton, that I'm here. If you want to know thetruth, it's because you can make trouble, Carton,--that's all. Youcan't convict him, in the end, because--you can't. There's nothing 'on'him. But you can make trouble. We'll win out in the end, of course."
"In other words, you think the Reform League has you beaten?" suggestedCarton quietly.
"No," ejaculated Murtha with an oath. "We don't know--but maybe YOUhave us beaten. But not the League. We don't want you for DistrictAttorney, Carton. You know it. But here's a practical proposition. Allyou have to do is just to let this Rubano case take its natural course.That's all I ask."
He dwelt on the word "natural" as if it were in itself convincing."Why," he resumed, "what foolishness it is for you to throw away allyour chances just for the sake of hounding one poor fellow from theEast Side. It ain't right, Carton,--you, powerful, holding an im
portantoffice, and he a poor boy that never had a chance and has made the mostof what little nature gave him. Why, I've known that boy ever since hehardly came up to my waist. I tell you, there ain't a judge on thebench that wouldn't listen to what we can show about him--hounded bypolice, hounded by the District Attorney, driven from pillar to post,and---"
"You will have a chance to tell the story in court," cut in Carton."Pomeroy will try the case."
"Pomeroy?" repeated Murtha in a tone that quite disguised the anger hefelt that it should come up before the one judge the System feared andcould not control. "Now, look here, Carton. We're all practical men.Your friend--er--Kennedy, here, he's practical."
Murtha had turned toward us. He was now the Murtha I had heard ofbefore, the kind that can use a handshake or a playful slap on theback, as between man and man, to work wonders in getting action orcarrying a point. Far from despising such men as Murtha, I think we allrather admired his good qualities. It was his point of view, hismethod, his aim that were wrong. As for the man himself he washuman--in fact, I often thought far more human than some of thereformers.
"I'll leave it to Kennedy," he resumed. "Suppose you were running arace. You knew you were going to win. Would you deliberately stop andstick your foot out, in order to trip up the man who was coming insecond?"
"I don't know that the cases are parallel," returned Kennedy with anamused smile.
Murtha kept his good nature admirably.
"Then you would stick your foot out--and perhaps lose the raceyourself?" persisted Murtha.
"I'll relieve Kennedy of answering that," interrupted Carton, "notbecause I don't think he can do it better than I can, perhaps, butbecause this is my fight--my race."
"Well," asked Murtha persuasively, "you'll think it over, first, won'tyou?"
Carton was looking at his opponent keenly, as if trying to take hismeasure. He had some scheme in mind and Kennedy was watching the facesof both men intently.
"This race," began Carton slowly, in a manner that showed he wanted tochange the subject, "is different from any other in the politics of thecity as either of us have ever known it, Murtha."
Murtha made as though he would object to the proposition, but Cartonhurried on, giving him no chance to inject anything into theconversation.
"It may be possible--it is possible," shot out the young DistrictAttorney, "to make use of secret records--conversations--atconferences--dinners--records that have been taken by a new inventionthat seems to be revolutionizing politics all over the country."
The look that crossed Murtha's face was positively apoplectic. Theveins in his forehead stood out like whipcords.
He started to speak, but choked off the words before he had utteredthem. I could almost read his mind. Carton had said nothing directlyabout the Black Book, and Murtha had caught himself just in time not tobetray anything about it.
"So," he shouted at last, "you are going to try some of those finelittle scientific tricks on us, are you?"
He was pacing up and down the room, storming and threatening by turns.
"I want to tell you, Carton," pursued Murtha, "that you're up against acrowd who were playing this game before you were born. You reformersthink you are pretty smooth. But we know a thing or two about you andwhat you are doing. Besides," he leaned over the desk again, "Carton,there ain't many men that can afford to throw stones. I admit my lifehasn't been perfect--but, then I ain't posing as any saint. I don'tmind telling you that the organization, as you call it, is looking intosome of the things that you reformers have done. It may be that some ofyour people--some of the ladies," he insinuated, "don't look on life inthe broad-minded way that some of the rest do. Mind you--I ain't makingany threats, but when it comes to gossip and scandal andmud-slinging--look out for the little old organization--that's all!"
Carton had set his tenacious jaw. "You can go as far as you like,Murtha," was all he said, with a grim smile.
Murtha looked at him a moment, then his manner changed.
"Carton," he said in a milder tone, at length, "what's the use of allthis bluffing? You and I understand each other. These menunderstand--life. It's a game--that's what it is--a game. Sometimes onemove is right, sometimes another. You know what you want to accomplishhere in this city. I show you a way to do it. Don't answer me,"persisted Murtha, raising a hand, "just--think it over."
Carton had taken a step forward, the tense look on his face unchanged."No," he exclaimed, and we could almost hear his jaw snap as if it hadbeen a trap. "No--I'll not think it over. I'll not yield an inch. DopeyJack goes to trial before election."
As Carton bit off the words, Murtha became almost beside himself withrage and chagrin. He was white and red by turns. For a moment I fearedthat he might do Carton personal violence.
"Carton," he ground out, as he reached the door, "you will regret this."
"I hope not," returned the other summoning with a mighty effort atleast the appearance of suavity. "Good-bye."
The only answer was the vicious slam which Murtha gave the door.
As the echo died, the District Attorney turned to us. "Apparently,then, Dorgan did not secure the Black Book," was all he said, "evensupposing Dopey Jack planned and executed that robbery of Langhorne."