Why?”
“Oh, nothing much,” replied Cowperwood, evading the matter for the present.
“I was wondering whether they were in such condition that they couldn’t be used for anything.
I see occasional references in the papers to their uselessness.”
“They’re in pretty bad shape, I’m afraid,” replied McKenty.
“I haven’t been through either of them in years and years.
The idea was originally to let the wagons go through them and break up the crowding at the bridges.
But it didn’t work.
They made the grade too steep and the tolls too high, and so the drivers preferred to wait for the bridges.
They were pretty hard on horses.
I can testify to that myself.
I’ve driven a wagon-load through them more than once.
The city should never have taken them over at all by rights.
It was a deal. I don’t know who all was in it.
Carmody was mayor then, and Aldrich was in charge of public works.”
He relapsed into silence, and Cowperwood allowed the matter of the tunnels to rest until after dinner when they had adjourned to the library. There he placed a friendly hand on McKenty’s arm, an act of familiarity which the politician rather liked.
“You felt pretty well satisfied with the way that gas business came out last year, didn’t you?” he inquired.
“I did,” replied McKenty, warmly. “Never more so.
I told you that at the time.”
The Irishman liked Cowperwood, and was grateful for the swift manner in which he had been made richer by the sum of several hundred thousand dollars.
“Well, now, McKenty,” continued Cowperwood, abruptly, and with a seeming lack of connection, “has it ever occurred to you that things are shaping up for a big change in the street-railway situation here?
I can see it coming.
There’s going to be a new motor power introduced on the South Side within a year or two.
You’ve heard of it?”
“I read something of it,” replied McKenty, surprised and a little questioning.
He took a cigar and prepared to listen.
Cowperwood, never smoking, drew up a chair.
“Well, I’ll tell you what that means,” he explained.
“It means that eventually every mile of street-railway track in this city—to say nothing of all the additional miles that will be built before this change takes place—will have to be done over on an entirely new basis.
I mean this cable-conduit system.
These old companies that are hobbling along now with an old equipment will have to make the change.
They’ll have to spend millions and millions before they can bring their equipment up to date.
If you’ve paid any attention to the matter you must have seen what a condition these North and West Side lines are in.”
“It’s pretty bad; I know that,” commented McKenty.
“Just so,” replied Cowperwood, emphatically.
“Well, now, if I know anything about these old managements from studying them, they’re going to have a hard time bringing themselves to do this.
Two to three million are two to three million, and it isn’t going to be an easy matter for them to raise the money—not as easy, perhaps, as it would be for some of the rest of us, supposing we wanted to go into the street-railway business.”
“Yes, supposing,” replied McKenty, jovially.
“But how are you to get in it?
There’s no stock for sale that I know of.”
“Just the same,” said Cowperwood, “we can if we want to, and I’ll show you how.
But at present there’s just one thing in particular I’d like you to do for me.
I want to know if there is any way that we can get control of either of those two old tunnels that I was talking to you about a little while ago.
I’d like both if I might.
Do you suppose that is possible?”
“Why, yes,” replied McKenty, wondering; “but what have they got to do with it?
They’re not worth anything.
Some of the boys were talking about filling them in some time ago—blowing them up.
The police think crooks hide in them.”
“Just the same, don’t let any one touch them—don’t lease them or anything,” replied Cowperwood, forcefully.