Mr. Gilgan sat down. “It’s about things this fall I’ve come to see you, of course,” he began, smilingly. “You and I are supposed to be on opposite sides of the fence, and we are as a rule, but I am wondering whether we need be this time or not?” Mr. Kerrigan, shrewd though seemingly simple, fixed him with an amiable eye. “What’s your scheme?” he said. “I’m always open to a good idea.” “Well, it’s just this,” began Mr. Gilgan, feeling his way. “You have a fine big ward here that you carry in your vest pocket, and so has Tiernan, as we all know; and we all know, too, that if it wasn’t for what you and him can do there wouldn’t always be a Democratic mayor elected. Now, I have an idea, from looking into the thing, that neither you nor Tiernan have got as much out of it so far as you might have.” Mr. Kerrigan was too cautious to comment as to that, though Mr. Gilgan paused for a moment. “Now, I have a plan, as I say, and you can take it or leave it, just as you want, and no hard feelings one way or the other. I think the Republicans are going to win this fall—McKenty or no McKenty—first, second, and third wards with us or not, as they choose. The doings of the big fellow”—he was referring to McKenty—“with the other fellow in North Clark Street”—Mr. Gilgan preferred to be a little enigmatic at times—“are very much in the wind just now. You see how the papers stand. I happen to know where there’s any quantity of money coming into the game from big financial quarters who have no use for this railroad man. It’s a solid La Salle and Dearborn Street line-up, so far as I can see. Why, I don’t know. But so it is. Maybe you know better than I do. Anyhow, that’s the way it stands now. Add to that the fact that there are eight naturally Republican wards as it is, and ten more where there is always a fighting chance, and you begin to see what I’m driving at. Count out these last ten, though, and bet only on the eight that are sure to stand. That leaves twenty-three wards that we Republicans always conceded to you people; but if we manage to carry thirteen of them along with the eight I’m talking about, we’ll have a majority in council, and”—flick! he snapped his fingers—“out you go—you, McKenty, Cowperwood, and all the rest. No more franchises, no more street-paving contracts, no more gas deals. Nothing—for two years, anyhow, and maybe longer. If we win we’ll take the jobs and the fat deals.” He paused and surveyed Kerrigan cheerfully but defiantly.