s, abolished needless nuisances, and
these concessions gave him a strong hold on the independent voter. He
was a king over frogs which had changed much since Aesop's time, for
now they let well enough alone.

Nevertheless, things were going from bad to worse. Three terms are
likely to cause a man to grow careless or indifferent, and Donnelly
was making frequent bad breaks. The senator, ever watchful, believed
he saw a chance to sweep McQuade off the board.

McQuade had an able lieutenant in Alderman Martin, whom the sporting
fraternity followed loyally. Martin owned and ran the most
disreputable hotel in the city. It occupied a position of unusual
prominence on one of the principal business streets. There was a
saloon and a cheap restaurant on the ground floor. On the second floor
were wine-rooms and a notorious gambling-den. Above this was the
hotel. The guests stole in at midnight and stole out at dawn.

This gambling-den was frequently the bone of contention between
energetic ministers of the gospel and the police department. Regularly
the police swore that gambling did not exist in town, and regularly
the ministers went on a still hunt for proofs. Singularly enough, they
never found any. A hint from headquarters, and the den would close up
till after the excitement was over. All the newspapers understood that
the police lied; but the editors were either afraid or indifferent;
and the farce was played over yearly for the benefit of the
ministerial association.

The place was run honestly enough. When the stakes are small, the
professional gambler does not have to be dishonest. All the same, this
kind of gambler is the most despicable of men. He lures the wage of
the poor; clerks, bookkeepers, traveling salesmen, laborers, college
boys, men who drink too much of a Saturday night, all these come to
the net. Nobody ever wins anything; and if perchance one does make a
small winning, it goes quickly over the bar. Women wait and wonder at
home; it is their common lot. The spirit of the gambler is in us all,
and we might as well confess it here and now. It is in the corpuscles:
something for nothing, something for nothing!

Martin was a power in the Common Council. He could block or put
through any measure. He always carried a roll of gold-bills in his
pockets--for what purpose no one had the temerity to inquire. His
following was large and turbulent; it came from the shops and the
factories and the streets. In his wa