National Affairs: Private Business

The White Mountain Express stopped one day last week at Northampton, Mass., to take aboard a sandy-haired man carrying a small black bag marked C. C. He took a seat in the Pullman drawing room, leaving the door open. School girls raced through the car, peeked in at him, giggled. He shut the door.

His train arrived at the Grand Central Terminal in Manhattan at 7.45 p.m. People cheered. He lifted a brown fedora hat in response. He went to room 1423 (a $25-per-day suite) in the Hotel Commodore, adjoining the station. There, barricaded...

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