e said he would "just look on." And so, during the last and decisive
day of the "whirlwind" campaign, while in Eighth Avenue voters were
being challenged, beaten, and bribed, bonfires were burning, and
"extras" were appearing every half hour, "Izzy" Schwab, the Tammany
henchman, with a secret worth twenty thousand votes, sat a prisoner, in
a wicker chair, with a drink and a cigar, guarded by four young men in
flannels, who played tennis violently at five dollars a corner.

It was always a great day in the life of "Izzy" Schwab. After a
luncheon, which, as he later informed his friends, could not have cost
less than "two dollars a plate and drink all you like," Sam Forbes took
him on at pool. Mr. Schwab had learned the game in the cellars of
Eighth Avenue at two and a half cents a cue, and now, even in Columbus
Circle he was a star. So, before the sun had set, Mr. Forbes, who at
pool rather fancied himself, was seventy-five dollars poorer, and Mr.
Schwab just that much to the good. Then there followed a strange
ceremony called tea, or, if you preferred it, whiskey and soda; and the
tall footman bent before him with huge silver salvers laden down with
flickering silver lamps, and bubbling soda bottles, and cigars, and
cigarettes.

"You could have filled your pockets with twenty-five cent Havanas, and
nobody would have said nothing!" declared Mr. Schwab, and his friends
who never had enjoyed his chance to study at such close quarters the
truly rich, nodded enviously.

At six o'clock Mr. Schwab led Winthrop into the big library and asked
for his ticket of leave.

"They'll be counting the votes soon," he begged. "I can't do no harm
now, and I don't mean to. I didn't see nothing, and I won't say
nothing. But it's election night, and--and I just GOT to be on
Broadway."

"Right," said Winthrop, "I'll have a car take you in, and if you will
accept this small check----"

"No!" roared "Izzy" Schwab. Afterward he wondered how he came to do
it. "You've give me a good time, Mr. Winthrop. You've treated me
fine, all the gentlemen have treated me nice. I'm not a blackmailer,
Mr. Winthrop." Mr. Schwab's voice shook slightly.

"Nonsense, Schwab, you didn't let me finish," said Winthrop, "I'm
likely to need a lawyer any time; this is a retaining fee. Suppose I
exceed the speed limit--I'm liable to do that----"

"You bet you are!" exclaimed Mr. Schwab violently.

"Well, then, I'll send for YOU, and there isn't a po