“Look here,” he said, “McCarthy wants money--don't he?--the same as the rest of us. Of course he does. Well, he can make thousands out of us for every penny that he gets out of the other side. Thousands, old boy! I'll double his fortune in a day--in a day, do you understand?” Again I laughed. “He wouldn't listen to you,” I said. “McCarthy is honest.” “Honest fiddlesticks!” he exclaimed. “So am I honest; so are you; but we're going to pick up money when it falls at our feet, aren't we--wads of it? Why, old boy, there's half a million dollars in this thing for you and me and McCarthy.” He was almost on his knees at my feet, and I had just enough of the “old boy” in me to let him go on, and he persisted with singular blindness. “Look here,” he continued, “I've got something up my sleeve. You're in love with the best girl in this glorious land of ours. I know all about it, and, old boy, I hold the key to that situation--do you understand? It's in my hand absolutely. She's promised to marry me. You do as I tell you, and I'll make the greatest sacrifice that one man can make for another. Now you can judge how important it is.” “I'm surprised to hear you make a proposition like that,” I said, turning with disgust. “It's base, and unworthy of human lips.” “Oh, you've got a grudge against me--that's what's the matter with you,” he added. “You can't forget that I won the girl in spite of you.” “You didn't play fair,” I said. “You have deceived her and her father.” “Rats!” he exclaimed. “All things are fair in love and war, aren't they? Don't be a fool.” “Bony, there isn't an honest hair in your head,” I answered. “He's a knave who isn't square with the girl he intends to marry.” “All right,” said he. “I'll see McCarthy myself and leave you out of it.” “You'd better keep away from him,” I said, “or you'll get into trouble. We're against you and all men like you, and, as to the young lady, I warn you now that I shall do everything in my power to prevent the marriage.” “Bosh!” he hissed, as I was leaving him. That night McCarthy attended a committee meeting at the Capitol. I had some letters to write, and remained in our rooms. The gentleman returned about midnight, hatless and dishevelled. “What's the matter?” I asked. “Why, I've just had a little argument--that's all. I was coming home by my usual route; the street was deserted; and by-and-by I came to a stretch where every light was out for some reason. I suppose the stage had been set for its drama. Suddenly a man approached me from behind. “'Is this Mr. McCarthy?' he asked. “'It is,' I said. “'You don't know me, and it isn't necessary,' he whispered. 'I have a simple business proposition to make, and all you need to know about me is the amount of my roll: I'll give you a hundred and fifty thousand dollars now if you'll favor the Erie side in this fight.'” The gentleman looked at me and laughed. “I can imagine your answer,” I said.