At the foot of the steps he pulled his friend by the sleeve. "Bronson,"
he coaxed, "you are not going to use it, are you?"

Bronson turned on him savagely. "For Heaven's sake!" he protested, "what
do you think I am; did you _see_ her?"

So the New York ---- lost a very good story, and Bronson a large sum of
money for not writing it, and Mr. Aram was taught a lesson, and his
young wife's confidence in him remained unshaken. The editor and
reporter dined together that night, and over their cigars decided with
sudden terror that Mr. Aram might, in his ignorance of their good
intentions concerning him, blow out his brains, and for nothing. So they
despatched a messenger-boy up town in post-haste with a note saying that
"the firm" had decided to let the matter drop. Although, perhaps, it
would have been better to have given him one sleepless night at least.

That was three years ago, and since then Mr. Aram's father has fallen
out with Tammany, and has been retired from public service. Bronson has
been sent abroad to represent the United States at a foreign court, and
has asked the editor to write the story that he did not write, but with
such changes in the names of people and places that no one save Mr. Aram
may know who Mr. Aram really was and is.

This the editor has done, reporting what happened as faithfully as he
could, and in the hope that it will make an interesting story in spite
of the fact, and not on account of the fact, that it is a true one.