"About the ballot-box stuffing
... or your Sing Sing record, Casey?" he inquired.
"You--you know well enough," blustered Casey. "It's an outrage to rake
up a man's past.... A fellow's sensitive about such things."
He shook a fist at King. "If necessary, I'll defend myself."
"Very well," responded King. "That's your prerogative. You've a paper of
your own.... And now get out of here," he added curtly. "Never show your
face inside this door again."
Later at the Bank Exchange McGowan found the supervisor cursing as he
raised a glass of whiskey with a trembling hand.
"Well, did you make him insult you?"
"Damn him," was all Casey could answer. "Damn him. Damn him." He tossed
the raw liquor down his throat and poured another drink. McGowan smiled.
"You can do that till Doomsday and it won't hurt him." McGowan's voice
rang with contempt. "Is that all you can do? Are you afraid--"
Casey interrupted fiercely. "I'm NOT afraid. You know it. I'll get
even."
"How?"
"Never mind. You'll see," the politician muttered darkly.
"You're a drunken fool," remarked McGowan. "You've no chance with King.
He's twice as big as you. He carries a derringer. And he shoots
straight.
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