Fortnight ago in Syracuse, N. Y., a postal clerk came upon a parcel addressed to "Comrade Chancellor Charles Flint, Syracuse University." When the parcel gave off a muffled tick, the clerk turned white as a miller, rushed the parcel to the postmaster. The postmaster sent for the police. The police sent for a Department of Justice expert on infernal machines. The expert dunked the parcel in a pail of water, prodded it with a long pole, gingerly took it apart. Disclosed was an arrangement of cardboard tubes, cotton wadding, piano wire, an alarm clock works and some sort of granulated white...
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