Would you mind telling me what I am to
read?"
"The Medcroft thing. Right there."
She read the article, her husband watching her face the while. Surprise,
incredulity, dismay, succeeded each other in rapid changes. She was
reading in sheer amazement of the doings of Roxbury Medcroft in
connection with the County Council's sub-committee--_in London_! The
story went on to relate how Medcroft, implacable leader of the
opposition to the "grafters," suddenly had appeared before the committee
with the most astounding figures and facts to support his charges of
rottenness on the part of the "clique"; his unexpected descent upon the
scene had thrown the opposing leaders into a panic; every one had been
led to believe that he was sojourning in the east. As a matter of fact,
it was soon revealed, he had been in London, secretly working on the
problem, for nearly three weeks, keeping discreetly under cover in order
that his influence might not be thwarted. His array of facts, his bitter
arraignment of the men who were trying to force the building bill
through the Council, staggered the whole city of London. At that writing
it looked as though the bill would be overthrown, its promoters had been
so completely put to rout. The committee would be compelled to take
cognisance of the startling exposure--the people would demand a full
threshing out of the obnoxious deal. Roxbury Medcroft's name was on
every one's lips.
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