O'Malley nodded. He knew more about that than Dyker knew. Dyker had, with more or less direct assistance from O'Malley's own headquarters, already won some prominence for himself, and had been of some use to the organization, in that sort of legal-practice which is a highly specialized branch of the profession on the lower East Side. The purpose of that branch is simply the protection of the criminal, especially the criminal engaged in the procuring or confining of slave-girls, but its methods, far from being unusual, are merely a daring extension of the methods that, within the last decade, have increased in popularity among the seemingly more respectable practitioners. Evidence is manufactured or destroyed, according to immediate needs; favorable witnesses are taught favorable testimony; postponements are secured until a politically indebted judge is on the bench. There follows a formal bellowing against what are called invasions of inalienable personal rights, and then there comes a matter-of-course acquittal. With Dyker's ability in this sort of work O'Malley was thoroughly familiar; for this man's party-services he was sufficiently grateful, and with the chance of the lawyer's rise to a popularity that would be of still further help he was well satisfied. "If you'd be elected," he at length reflectively remarked, "you'd have a mighty responsible position, Dyker." "I know that." "There would be a good many ways"--O'Malley knocked, with great deliberation, the ash from his cigar--"a good many ways in which you could help the party--if you'd be elected." He seemed to be discussing, disinterestedly, a purely abstract question; but Dyker did not miss his meaning. "I shouldn't overlook them," he said. "And, _if you'd be elected_, there'd be a lot of ways in which you might hurt--the party." "I scarcely think you have any just cause for apprehension upon that score, Mr. O'Malley. I think that my record speaks for itself. My record is regular; it is an open book to the whole city----" "Never mind that, Dyker; it's an open book to me, anyhow." "I'm aware of it; but then----" "All I want to know is two things." "And they are, Mr. O'Malley?" "First, are you the kind that lose their head over a good thing and land in jail?" "Does my law-practice seem to indicate that I should be likely to overstep legal limits?" "No, I guess it don't. But you can't always tell; we can't afford no hogs; and that sort of a man gives all his friends a black eye." "But I say to you----" "And next, I want to know, Mr. Dyker, whether you're the kind of a man that don't forget them that put him where he's at." The low, slow spoken sentence ended with a sudden click of Mr. O'Malley's long, vulpine jaws. He leaned quickly forward across the table and fixed Wesley with the stiletto of his eyes.