"All the newspapers have my written report on the matter, and the
_Statesman_ will have it in plate matter next week," said Tictocq,
complacently.
"All is lost!" said the Populists, turning toward the door.
"For God's sake, my friends," pleaded the Candidate, following them;
"listen to me; I swear before high heaven that I never wore a pair of
socks in my life. It is all a devilish campaign lie."
The Populists turn their backs.
"The damage is already done," they said. "The people have heard the
story. You have yet time to withdraw decently before the race."
All left the room except Tictocq and the Democrats.
"Let's all go down and open a bottle of fizz on the Finance Committee,"
said the Chairman of the Executive Committee, Platform No. 2.
[Illustration: "The Plunkville Patriot," April 2, 1895]
TRACKED TO DOOM
Or
The Mystery of the Rue de Peychaud
'Tis midnight in Paris.
A myriad of lamps that line the Champs Elysees and the Rouge et Noir,
cast their reflection in the dark waters of the Seine as it flows
gloomily past the Place Vendome and the black walls of the Convent
Notadam.
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