He had a subordinate in council, a very powerful henchman by the name of Patrick Dowling, a meaty, vigorous Irishman and a true watch-dog of graft for the machine, who worked with the mayor, the city treasurer, the city tax receiver--in fact, all the officers of the current administration--and saw that such minor matters were properly equalized.

Mr.McKenty had only met two or three of the officers of the South Side Gas Company, and that quite casually.

He did not like them very well.

The truth was that the old companies were officered by men who considered politicians of the McKenty and Dowling stripe as very evil men; if they paid them and did other such wicked things it was because they were forced to do so.
"Well," McKenty replied, lingering his thin gold watch-chain in a thoughtful manner, "that's an interesting scheme you have.

Of course the old companies wouldn't like your asking for a rival franchise, but once you had it they couldn't object very well, could they ?" He smiled.
Mr.McKenty spoke with no suggestion of a brogue.