two, and five, and ten dollar bills paid out at the last
moment over the saloon bars and at the polling-places that do the work.
Give me enough money"--and at this noble thought Mr. Gilgan
straightened up and slapped one fist lightly in the other, adjusting at
the same time his half-burned cigar so that it should not burn his
hand--"and I can carry every ward in Chicago, bar none. If I have
money enough," he repeated, emphasizing the last two words. He put his
cigar back in his mouth, blinked his eyes defiantly, and leaned back in
his chair.

"Very good," commented Hand, simply; "but how much money?"

"Ah, that's another question," replied Gilgan, straightening up once
more. "Some wards require more than others. Counting out the eight
that are normally Republican as safe, you would have to carry eighteen
others to have a majority in council. I don't see how anything under
ten to fifteen thousand dollars to a ward would be safe to go on. I
should say three hundred thousand dollars would be safer, and that
wouldn't be any too much by any means."

Mr. Gilgan restored his cigar and puffed heavily the while he leaned
back and lifted his eyes once more.

"And how would that money be distributed exactly?" inquired Mr. Hand.

"Oh, well, it's never wise to look into such matters too closely,"
commented Mr. Gilgan, comfortably. "There's such a thing as cutting
your cloth too close in politics. There are ward captains, leaders,
block captains, workers. They all have to have money to do with--to
work up sentiment--and you can't be too inquiring as to just how they
do it. It's spent in saloons, and buying coal for mother, and getting
Johnnie a new suit here and there. Then there are torch-light
processions and club-rooms and jobs to look after. Sure, there's plenty
of places for it. Some men may have to be brought into these wards to
live--kept in boarding-houses for a week or ten days." He waved a hand
deprecatingly.

Mr. Hand, who had never busied himself with the minutiae of politics,
opened his eyes slightly. This colonizing idea was a little liberal,
he thought.

"Who distributes this money?" he asked, finally.

"Nominally, the Republican County Committee, if it's in charge;
actually, the man or men who are leading the fight. In the case of the
Democratic party it's John J. McKenty, and don't you forget it. In my
district it's me, and no one else."

Mr. Hand, slow, solid, almost obtuse at times, medita