money he has. He was
broke, flat broke, about the time I was elected and suddenly he had all
the money he required. Where it came from I can't find out. There is
only one conclusion that I can see and that is that Cummings gave it to
him; just as I have contended from the start."

Brennan and John saw Murphy regularly, meeting him at least once a day,
hoping each time that he would bring them the information they sought.
But he had little to tell them except that Cummings was enforcing his
order that there should be no crime in the city. One night he brought
them a story of how a rebellious gangster becoming restless, had planned
to commit a robbery despite the "Gink's" prohibitory order and had been
promptly "beaten up" by Cummings' thugs.

A week after their last conference with the mayor, Brennan and John
received a telephone message from Gibson's secretary, who told them
that the commissioner wanted them to see him at his office immediately.

"Another grandstand stunt, I'll bet," Brennan speculated as they hurried
to Gibson's office. "It's about time for one."

Gibson greeted them as affably as ever. As they entered his office he
closed and locked the door behind them.

"Well, boys," he said, "how do you think my campaign is coming?"

"You're going strong," replied Brennan, truthfully.

"And how is my friend, the mayor?"

"He isn't ready to concede defeat yet," Brennan said. "He realizes,
though, that you're gaining ground on him every day, or rather
increasing the lead you had at the start."

Gibson laughed.

"He had his chance," he said. "I gave him warning, although I believe I
don't have to tell you again, that I had no idea of ever running against
him when he appointed me a commissioner. By the way, why doesn't he fire
me?"

"What for?" asked Brennan.

"Oh, I see, he figures it would hurt him more than do him good,"
concluded Gibson. "Well, perhaps he's right. But I didn't send for you
boys to talk politics. I have something I think will develop into a
story for you, a real story, not the stuff my publicity man hands out."

"What is it?"

Gibson smiled and shook his head.

"I can't tell you now," he said. "Be here tomorrow morning at 10 o'clock
and you can be in on the whole business. I don't expect there'll be any
shooting, but you might as well bring guns if you have them."

"Another 'Red Mike'?" asked Brennan.

Gibson smiled again.

"Be here and see," he said, inexplicitly.

CH