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The Man on the Box by Harold MacGrath, Fiction, Literary
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"If I remember rightly, it was reported in the regular police items of the day," said I. "Strange that the boys didn't look behind the scenes." "Oh, I don't know," remarked the congressman; "lots of things happen of which you are all ignorant. The public mustn't know everything." "But what's the hero's name?" asked the journalist. "That's a secret," I answered. "Besides, when it comes to the bottom of the matter, I had something to do with the suppressing of the police news. In a case like this, suppression becomes a law not excelled by that which governs self-preservation. My friend has a brother in the War Department; and together we worked wonders."

"It's a jolly droll story, however you look at it," the Englishman admitted. "Nevertheless, it had its tragic side; but that is even more than ever a secret." The Englishman looked at me sharply, even gravely; but the veranda is only dimly illuminated at night, and his scrutiny went unrewarded. "Eh, well " said the Russian; "your philosopher has observed that all mankind loves a lover."