A Girl Among the Anarchists Part 4

"Witnesses to character and so forth must be found," he said, "the more authentic and reputable the better, but at all costs they must be procured. Whom can you suggest?"

I confessed that I could for the moment think of n.o.body.

"You will think of somebody," he replied persuasively, "you _must_ remember somebody," and there was that in his voice which did not brook or encourage contradiction, "some one in a respectable position, of course," he continued, "a man pursuing one of the liberal professions, or a business man of means. Plenty of doctors and professional men among your people, are there not? The evidence of such a man would carry weight. The court's belief in a witness's veracity is, generally speaking, proportionate to his means. Doubtless you will be able to think of a desirable man ... who knows the prisoners," he added, rapidly turning over his notes, and speaking in such a manner as to convey to me the idea that the exact extent of the witness's knowledge of the prisoners was not of any very great consequence, so long as he was prepared to swear to their respectability, and that his banking account and general appearance were satisfactory.

"I will look round and let you know the result to-morrow," I answered.

"Good," replied Curtis, "two witnesses at least, and men of position and education at all costs. Good afternoon."

I had enough to do during the remainder of the day in finding those witnesses, but found they were at last, though not without a tremendous effort on my part and some considerable degree of ingenuity. When attired in some of my brother Raymond's discarded clothes, and produced for Curtis's inspection the following day, they really made a respectable couple, and I felt proud of them--one a physician of superior accomplishments and aristocratic appearance, the other a master-tailor, of prosperous if not very _distingue_ presence. I likewise discovered a cabman who had been present in Hyde Park at an allegedly incriminating speech made by Banter; and on jogging his memory with a little whisky he distinctly recalled several points valuable to the defence.

Up till the very day of the trial my time was kept well occupied with such errands. Indeed, remarkable as the fact may appear, practically the whole labour of preparing the defence devolved upon me.

It was neither an easy nor a very encouraging task. The greater number of the English Anarchists mysteriously disappeared at this approach of danger. Mindful of the truth of the axiom that discretion is the better part of valour, A thought it well to suddenly recollect his duties towards his family; B discovered that he had a capacious stomach, which required feeding; C, that the Anarchist policy was in discord with his own true principles. At such a moment, therefore, and surrounded, or rather unsurrounded by such men, the task in front of me was not easy, and in the actual state of public opinion it was not very hopeful either.

Public feeling was against the Anarchists. So long as violence and outrage had been reserved entirely for the benefit of foreign climes, the British public had regarded the Anarchists with tolerance and equanimity. But the mysterious death of Myers had alarmed and disquieted it, and heavy sentences were generally invoked against the prisoners.

That the whole conspiracy was a got-up affair between Jacob Myers and the police was evident. Neither Banter nor O'Flynn was a dangerous man; a little loud and exaggerated talk was the utmost extent of their harmfulness. Neither of them was any better capable of making a bomb than of constructing a flying-machine, and they were less capable of throwing it than of flying. But political detectives would have a slow time of it in this country unless they occasionally made a vigorous effort on their own behalf, and an unscrupulous and impecunious man like Myers proved a valuable tool to help such gentlemen along, and fools of the Banter type suitable victims.

And thus it was that these two men now found themselves in the dock with twelve serious-minded tradesmen sitting in solemn conclave to consider their crimes.

The trial itself was a ridiculous farce. Jacob Myers, who would have been the one witness of any importance, was not subpoenaed; he had in fact discreetly quitted the country under his wife's escort. The police, with imperturbable gravity, brought ginger-beer bottles into court which had been found in O'Flynn's apartment, and which, they averred, could be converted into very formidable weapons of offence. Many gaseous speeches made by the prisoners, or attributed to them, were solemnly brought up against them, and a shudder ran through the court at the mention of such phrases as "wholesale a.s.sa.s.sination" and "war to the death."

The evidence, however, sufficed to impress the jury with the extreme gravity of the case and to alarm the public, and the prisoners were found guilty.

I well recollect the last day of the trial, which I attended throughout in more or less remote regions of the Old Bailey, recruiting recalcitrant witnesses, sending food in to the defendants, &c. Two other cases were being tried at the same time, one of which was a particularly revolting murder, for which three persons were on trial. The prisoners'

relatives were waiting below in a state of painful excitement. "Guilty or not guilty," was on all their lips, "release or penal servitude, life or death, which was it to be?" Friends were constantly running in and out of the court giving the women news of the progress of the trials.

"It is looking black for the prisoners!" "There is more hope!" "There is no hope!" and finally "guilty" in all the cases was reported. The wife of a horrible German murderer who had strangled his employer's wife, while a female accomplice played the piano to divert her children's attention from her cries, swooned away at the news. O'Flynn's old mother went into hysterics and became quite uncontrollable in her grief when, a few minutes later the news, "Five years' penal servitude," was brought down.

CHAPTER V

TO THE RESCUE

The first weeks of my experience in the Anarchist camp had flown by with astounding rapidity. The chapter of my experiences had opened with the expulsion of an alleged spy and _agent provocateur_, and had closed with a sentence of penal servitude pa.s.sed on two of my new-found comrades.

Between these two terminal events I seemed to have lived ages, and so I had, if, as I hold, experience counts for more than mere years. Holloway and Newgate, Slater's Mews and the Middle Temple, barristers and solicitors, judges and juries and detectives; appointments in queer places to meet queer people--all this had pa.s.sed before me with the rapidity of a landscape viewed from the window of an express train; and now that the chapter had closed, I found that it was but the preface to the real business I had set my shoulder to.

The morning after the conclusion of the trial I met Armitage by appointment, and together we wended our way towards Slater's Mews. The doctor was preoccupied, and for some minutes we proceeded in silence; the problem of what to do with the _Bomb_ was evidently weighing on his mind. At last he spoke: "It is our duty," he said, "to see that the movement be not unduly crippled by the loss of these two men. Poor fellows, they are doing their duty by the Cause, and we must not s.h.i.+rk ours. The _Bomb_ must be kept going at all costs; we can ill afford to lose two workers just now, but the loss of the paper would be a yet more severe blow to our movement. How thankful I am that you are with us!

It is always so. The governments think to crush us by imprisoning or murdering our comrades, and for one whom they take from us ten come to the fore. I am sure you must agree with me as to the paper."

"I quite agree with you in the main," I replied, "but I fear that the _Bomb_ itself is past hope. It strikes me it had got into somewhat bad hands, and I fear it would be useless to try to set it on its feet again. It is hardly fair to a paper to give it a Jacob Myers for editor.

Really it seems to me to have died a natural death. The entire staff has disappeared--Myers, the editor; Banter, the publisher; O'Flynn, the printer--who remains? where are the others? It seems to me they have all vanished and left no trace behind."

"Oh, that is hardly the case, I think," said the doctor in a tone of deprecation. "I went up to the office last night and found Short sleeping on the premises."

"Short? Is not he the man whom I first saw wrapped in the red flag of glory?"

"Yes, that is the man; perhaps his appearance is somewhat disadvantageous, but he is constant to the Cause, anyhow."

"Well, I should not have thought him much of a staff to lean on; still, appearances are often deceptive. But, anyhow, do you not think it would be advisable to start a new paper, rather than to attempt to galvanise a corpse?"

"The idea would not be a bad one; in fact I think you are right, quite right," returned Armitage. "It is not wise to put new wine into old skins. Anyhow, here we are, I dare say other comrades have mustered in the office who will have something to say in the matter."

We had now reached our destination, and pa.s.sing the curious scrutiny of several cabmen and scavengers a.s.sembled at the entrance of the mews, we prepared to ascend the break-neck ladder leading to the office. I had but put my foot on the first step when I heard the loud yelping of a dog followed by a string of oaths, and the office door opened, emitting a tall brawny man in s.h.i.+rt-sleeves with a very red face and close-cropped hair, who appeared holding out at arm's length a pair of tongs which gripped some repulsive-looking fronts and collars. On seeing me, he exclaimed, "Take care," and proceeded to drop the objects on a heap of rubbish below. We were both somewhat surprised at this apparition, but realised without difficulty that the office was still in the possession of the police. They were, in fact, contrary to the doctor's expectation, the sole occupants of the place. The comrades had not seen fit so far to muster round the paper. To say there was none, however, is an injustice, for there on the sofa, still huddled in the red flag, lay Short, apparently little affected by what had taken place since I last saw him.

He had been aroused from his slumbers by the yelping of his dog, whose tail had been trodden on by one of the detectives, and he had raised himself on his elbow, and was looking round, uttering curses volubly.

He nodded slightly on seeing us enter, but did not change his position.

There he lay, quite heroic in his immovable sloth; of all the many fighters he alone remained staunch at his post; and that because he was positively too lazy to move away from it.

Dr. Armitage on entering had gone up to one of the three detectives and spoken to him, and the man now turned to me.

"We are just having a final look round before leaving, miss," he remarked. "It is not at all pleasant work, I a.s.sure you, to be put in to search such a filthy place. Look there," he exclaimed, pointing at the rec.u.mbent Short with his outstretched tongs. "I shall have to burn every rag I have on when it is over, and I'd advise you to be careful," and he resumed his occupation, which consisted in raking out some old papers, while his two companions, having contrived to resume an official appearance, prepared to leave.

The police once gone Dr. Armitage and I found ourselves in sole possession of the office and the lethargic Short. It was no sinecure, to be sure. Heaps of "pie," some due to the police and some to Banter, who previous to his arrest had put his foot through several "forms" which it was inadvisable to let fall into the hands of the police, enc.u.mbered the floor. Everything was intensely chaotic and intensely dirty, from the type cases and the other scanty belongings to the dormant compositor.

Armitage understood nothing of printing and I very little, and there we stood in the midst of a disorganised printing-office whence all had fled save only the unsavoury youth on the couch. I looked at Armitage and Armitage looked at me, and such was the helpless dismay depicted in our faces that we both broke into a laugh.

"Well," I said at last, "what shall we do? Suggest something. We cannot stay on here."

"The only thing I can think of," he rejoined after a pause, "is that I should go around and look up some of the comrades at their addresses whilst you remain here and get Short to help you put up the type, &c., as best you can, so that we may remove it all elsewhere. Here certainly nothing can be done and we must start our new paper amidst new surroundings."

"So you are thinking of starting a new paper?"

We looked round, surprised at this interruption, for Short had apparently returned to his slumbers, but we now saw that he had emerged from the banner and was standing behind us, fully dressed (I discovered later on that he had discarded dressing and undressing as frivolous waste of time), a queer uncouth figure with his long touzled black hair and sallow, unhealthy face. He had a short clay pipe firmly set between his teeth, and his large lips were parted in a smile. He held his head slightly on one side, and his whole att.i.tude was somewhat deprecatory and cringing.

"Well," said the doctor, "Isabel and I think that would be the best plan. You see the _Bomb_ seems thoroughly disorganised, and we think it would be easier and better to start afresh. I was just saying that I would go round and hunt up some of the comrades and get their views on the subject."

"Oh," rejoined Short, "you can save yourself that trouble. One half of them will accuse you of being a police spy, the others will be ill or occupied--in short, will have some excuse for not seeing you. They are all frightened out of their lives. Since the arrest of Banter and O'Flynn I have not seen one of them near the place, though I have been here all the time."

This remark confirmed what we both half suspected; and as Short, who by right of possession seemed authorised to speak on behalf of the _Bomb_, seemed willingly to fall in with our idea of starting a new paper, taking it for granted--which I was not exactly prepared for--that he would install himself in the new premises as compositor, we decided to take practical steps towards the move. Short informed us that six weeks'

rent was owing, and that the landlord threatened a distraint if his claims were not immediately satisfied; and in spite of the advice, "Don't pay rent to robber landlords," which stared us in the face, inscribed in bright red letters on the wall, I and Armitage between us sacrificed the requisite sum to the Cause.

Whilst we were discussing these matters the dog warned us by a prolonged bark that some one was approaching, and the new-comer soon appeared. He greeted Short, who introduced him to us as Comrade M'Dermott. He shot a scrutinising glance at us from his keen grey eyes and proceeded to shake hands with friendly warmth.

He was a very small man, certainly not more than five feet high, thin and wiry, with grey hair and moustache, but otherwise clean-shaven. His features were unusually expressive and mobile from his somewhat scornful mouth to his deep-set, observant eyes, and clearly denoted the absence of the stolid Saxon strain in his blood. His accent too, though not that of an educated man, was quite free from the hateful c.o.c.kney tw.a.n.g. His dress was spare as his figure, but though well worn there was something spruce and trim about his whole demeanour which indicated that he was not totally indifferent to the impression he created on others. He looked round the "office," took a comprehensive glance at Short, who was occupying the only available stool and smoking hard with a meditative air, and then walked over to me, and addressing me in an undertone, with the same ease as if he had known me all my life, he said, with a twinkle in his eye, jerking his head in the direction of Short, "There's a rotten product of a decaying society, eh?" This remark was so unexpected and yet so forcibly true, that I laughed a.s.sent.

"So you're the only ones up here," he continued. "I expected as much when I heard of the raid on the office. I was up in the North doing a little bit of peddling round the country, when I read the news, and I thought I'd come to London to see what was up. What do you think of doing with the paper anyway? It seems a pity the old _Bomb_ should die.

It would mean the loss of the only revolutionary organ in England."

"Oh, it must not die," I replied, "or at least if it cannot be kept up, another paper must take its place. Comrade Armitage agrees with me in thinking that that would be the best plan. You see this place looks altogether hopeless."

Armitage, who had been engaged in looking over some papers, now joined us and the conversation became general.

"Well, how did you get on up North?" inquired Short, who seemed to wake up to a sense of actuality. "How did you hit it off with young Jackson?

Did you find him of much use?"

"Use!" retorted M'Dermott with an infinite depth of scorn in his voice.

"A fat lot of use he was. If it was a matter of putting away the grub, I can tell you he worked for two, but as to anything else, he made me carry his pack as well as my own, on the pretext that he had sprained his ankle, and his only contribution to the firm was a frousy old scrubbing-brush which he sneaked from a poor woman whilst I was selling her a ha'p'orth of pins. He seemed to think he'd done something mighty grand--'expropriation' he called it; pah, those are your English revolutionists!" and he snorted violently.