“I’d heard of this press-muzzling,” said he as Standish ended, “and I have one way of blocking it. I’ve arranged for your speeches and ‘ads.’ and advance notices to be printed in the biggest paper in the next State, and scattered all through the Mountain State as campaign documents. I don’t think even Conover can block that move.”
“Splendid!” cried Standish. “Old man, you’re a genius!”
“No, I’m not,” contradicted Ansel, rather ruefully, “but someone else is. I don’t know who.”
“I don’t understand.”
“Why, the idea was sent to me three days ago, anonymously. Typewritten on foolscap. No signature. What d’you think of that?”
“Anonymously?”
“Yes. I wonder why. The idea’s so good, one would think the originator’d claim it. Unless——”
“Unless it came from the Conover camp?”
“Just what occurred to me. Anyhow, I’ve adopted the suggestion. I suppose you’d have refused to accept anonymous help, eh?”
“Every man to his own folly. It’s done now.”