"Do you infer, Peter, that you will play false, too?" asked Jacob, seized with the impression that his fellow grafters would desert him. "I infer nothing; I act," said Peter, turning to look out his place of espial. "You think you are safe?" said Jacob. "I think nothing; I act. If I fail, I fail, and don't cry!" he shouted. "You are exasperating, Peter; come, now, let's get down to business--what will we raise it on first?" asked Jacob. "On every resort in town; I'll send word tonight to my entire force to press on the screws," answered Peter. "Good!" exclaimed Jacob, now in full accord with Peter's views. "Have you seen Monroe?" asked Peter, now turning to a new subject. "Had a talk with him yesterday." "What did he say?" "Said he was with us still." "Can he be trusted?" "Without a doubt." "Does Jarney know of his connection with us?" "No." "Jarney, the goody-goody, must be made to pay for big knocking." "Monroe has been detailed to work on him," said Jacob. "And you can trust to Monroe for that?" asked Peter. "I believe we can; but he is handicapped now by the firing of Jarney's old reliable secretary." "He's been fired? Who has he now?" "A young country bumpkin." "Can't you get him in your ranks?" asked Peter. "I fear not," replied Jacob, with a shake of the head. "He's been approached, and seems to be as susceptible as a cow." "Ah, we must get rid of him, some way--get him out of Monroe's way." "That's what Monroe will attempt to do," said Jacob. "Can he do it?" asked Peter, squinting. "If he's slick enough, he can; nobody else can get so near the scene of operation like Monroe." "How's Jarney's adopted daughter coming on in society?" asked Peter, with a faint attempt at smiling. "Fine, I hear," answered Jacob, rising in his chair, and turning around with his back to Peter. "That's a funny piece of business on Jarney's part," said Peter, puffing very hard at his pipe. "His daughter took a fancy to her, on seeing her one day while slumming on the South Side, and she's trying to make a lady of her," said Jacob, sitting down again, after throwing away the stump of a cigar. "Can she do it?" asked Peter, with considerable interest. "She's doing it," responded Jacob, who noticed the change of Peter's interest, which was now of the kindly kind. "God bless her!" exclaimed Peter, as he turned again to his ever present peephole expression. "Mike Barton's dead," said Jacob, slowly. "The devil!" shouted Peter, turning from his peephole. "Yes; didn't you hear of it?" "No. How?" "Automobile accident." "There are others to take his place," said Peter, grunting like a satisfied pig after eating heartily. "How did it happen?" "Stole Jarney's auto, with the two young ladies in it; run it like h---- to the country, to kidnap them, I suppose; ran into a telegraph pole--busted the machine, and busted his head." "Poor wretch! I am glad he is gone, for his sister's sake," said Peter, sighing, which he could do sometimes.