It was midnight in the District of Columbia jail & asylum, the middle of the night for most convicts, the beginning of a new day for one, the beginning of the 200th day since he entered jail for contempt of court and the U. S. Senate. When the hour had struck, he, No. 10,520, stepped out to the prison yard and once more became Harry Ford Sinclair, a free oilman.
"Gentlemen of the newspaper profession" he intoned, grinning, to the talking newsreel machine, "I want...
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