The stream of novels driven by Lincoln-related plot devices continues. Make way for
Busted Flush:
When he takes the plates to the local university, they find several rare exposures of Abraham Lincoln at the actual ceremony where he delivered the Gettysburg Address. But wait, there's more: a machine, a primitive precursor to Edison's phonograph, called a phonautograph. And after fashioning a makeshift stylus, the university's top historian discovers nothing less than a reedy, scratchy audio recording of what must be the voice of old Abe himself, actually delivering the address.
Suddenly, all sorts of lying folk, from journalists, to sleazy lawyers to speculating collectors, are crawling out of the woodwork, all claiming ownership of the priceless material or at least knowledge of what should be done with it.
