saloons and contracting companies--in short, the patron saint of
the political and social underworld of Chicago, and who was naturally
to be reckoned with in matters which related to the city and state
legislative programme.

"I don't," said Addison; "but I can get you a letter. Why?"

"Don't trouble to ask me that now. Get me as strong an introduction
as you can."

"I'll have one for you to-day some time," replied Addison,
efficiently. "I'll send it over to you."

Cowperwood went out while Addison speculated as to this newest
move. Trust Cowperwood to dig a pit into which the enemy might
fall. He marveled sometimes at the man's resourcefulness. He
never quarreled with the directness and incisiveness of Cowperwood's
action.

The man, McKenty, whom Cowperwood had in mind in this rather
disturbing hour, was as interesting and forceful an individual as
one would care to meet anywhere, a typical figure of Chicago and
the West at the time. He was a pleasant, smiling, bland, affable
person, not unlike Cowperwood in magnetism and subtlety, but
different by a degree of animal coarseness (not visible on the
surface) which Cowperwood would scarcely have understood, and in
a kind of temperamental pull drawing to him that vast pathetic
life of the underworld in which his soul found its solution. There
is a kind of nature, not artistic, not spiritual, in no way
emotional, nor yet unduly philosophical, that is nevertheless a