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Page 66
"We have made a mistake, monsieurs," he said, but as he turns to leave
the room, Count Carnaignole stops him.
"One moment, monsieur."
The Count Carnaignole tears from his own face a false beard and reveals
the flashing eyes and well-known features of Tictocq, the detective.
Then, springing forward, he snatches a wig and false eyebrows from his
visitor, and the Gray Wolf, grinding his teeth in rage, stands before
him.
The murderer of Marie Cusheau was never discovered.
A SNAPSHOT AT THE PRESIDENT
[This is the kind of waggish editorial O. Henry was writing in
1894 for the readers of THE ROLLING STONE. The reader will do
well to remember that the paper was for local consumption and
that the allusions are to a very special place and time.]
(It will be remembered that about a month ago there were special rates
offered to the public for a round trip to the City of Washington. The
price of the ticket being exceedingly low, we secured a loan of twenty
dollars from a public-spirited citizen of Austin, by mortgaging our
press and cow, with the additional security of our brother's name and a
slight draught on Major Hutchinson for $4,000.
We purchased a round trip ticket, two loaves of Vienna bread, and quite
a large piece of cheese, which we handed to a member of our reportorial
staff, with instructions to go to Washington, interview President
Cleveland, and get a scoop, if possible, on all other Texas papers.
Our reporter came in yesterday morning, via the Manor dirt road, with a
large piece of folded cotton bagging tied under each foot.
It seems that he lost his ticket in Washington, and having divided the
Vienna bread and cheese with some disappointed office seekers who were
coming home by the same route, he arrived home hungry, desiring food,
and with quite an appetite.
Although somewhat late, we give his description of his interview with
President Cleveland.)
I am chief reporter on the staff of THE ROLLING STONE.
About a month ago the managing editor came into the room where we were
both sitting engaged in conversation and said:
"Oh, by the way, go to Washington and interview President Cleveland."
"All right," said I. "Take care of yourself."
Five minutes later I was seated in a palatial drawing-room car bounding
up and down quite a good deal on the elastic plush-covered seat.
I shall not linger upon the incidents of the journey. I was given carte
blanche to provide myself with every comfort, and to spare no expense
that I could meet. For the regalement of my inside the preparations had
been lavish. Both Vienna and Germany had been called upon to furnish
dainty viands suitable to my palate.
I changed cars and shirts once only on the journey. A stranger wanted me
to also change a two-dollar bill, but I haughtily declined.
The scenery along the entire road to Washington is diversified. You find
a portion of it on one hand by looking out of the window, and upon
turning the gaze upon the other side the eye is surprised and delighted
by discovering some more of it.
There were a great many Knights of Pythias on the train. One of them
insisted upon my giving him the grip I had with me, but he was
unsuccessful.
On arriving in Washington, which city I instantly recognized from
reading the history of George, I left the car so hastily that I forgot
to fee Mr. Pullman's representative.
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