Part 44 (2/2)
”The governor?”
McQuade and Morrissy looked at each other blankly.
”He has that prerogative,” said Donnelly.
”But he wouldn't dare!”
”Oh, yes, he would. It's his last term; he is without further political ambition; he can act as he pleases, in the face of public condemnation. There's one thing left, though.”
”What?”
”Injunction,” said Donnelly tersely.
”With Republican judges on the benches?” replied McQuade ironically.
”And you can't enjoin private property,” added Morrissy.
”I'll send for Bennington,” Donnelly volunteered. ”Perhaps I can talk him into reason.”
”It's up to you to block this move somehow,” said McQuade. ”It means the labor vote. And we've got to have that.”
”I'll do the best I can. I can stop his permit to tear down the building, if he really intends to do that.”
”It will be a good day's work for you.”
”I'll act this very afternoon.”
Once outside the mayor's office, McQuade turned to Morrissy.
”Where's that receipt you promised on oath?”
”Haven't you got it?” asked Morrissy, feigning surprise.
”No, and I doubt you sent it. But I want it at once, and no more monkeying.”
”Well, I sent it. I mailed it to your office. You've overlooked it.”
”Come over to my office now and make it out,” McQuade insisted.
”You've got plenty of grips on me without that,” protested Morrissy reproachfully.
”But I want this one, and I'm going to have it.”
”I'll go to your office. Will Donnelly be game?”
”He will if he knows which side his bread is b.u.t.tered on,”
contemptuously.
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