"Well, no. It's not unusual. In one of
those books yonder there is the record of a case where a man, who had
committed a series of nameless atrocities, extending over a period of
years, absolutely kept a memorandum of them in his pocket diary. It was
produced in Court. Why, my dear fellow, one half our business arises
from the fact that men and women are in the habit of keeping letters
and documents that they might--I don't say, you know, that they OUGHT,
that's a question of sentiment or ethics--but that they MIGHT destroy."
Thatcher half-mechanically took the telegram of poor Carmen and threw it
in the fire. Harlowe noticed the act and smiled.
"I'll venture to say, however, that there's nothing in the bag that YOU
lost that need give you a moment's uneasiness. It's only your rascal or
fool who carries with him that which makes him his own detective."
"I had a friend," continued Harlowe, "a clever fellow enough, but who
was so foolish as to seriously complicate himself with a woman. He was
himself the soul of honor, and at the beginning of their correspondence
he proposed that they should each return the other's letters with their
answer.
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