“Impotent,” echoed the old gentleman. “By the way, you have not answered my question.”
“The object, sir, of my agitation is to force the projected reforms on public attention, and so to secure that most important of allies, an effective mob-backing. But let me add that once elected to Parliament I am prepared to stand by any Government, Tory or Radical, in supporting the cause of order. We contend that should the revolutionary socialists or the anarchists initiate a crusade in the streets, they must take the consequences of their temerity.”
“Well said,” observed the ex-commissioner. “I notice in this regard that some very disquieting rumours are afloat. Not only are many of the East and South London workers becoming dangerous, but these miscreants, the anarchists, are moving. You remember the fiendish massacre ten years back when Hartmann blew up the bridge?”
“Well, the police have had information that this wretch is not dead after all. At the present moment he is believed to be in England stirring up more mischief.”
“The deuce he is!” cried the old gentleman. “I hope they will run him to earth.”
At this point our colloquy was broken off by Lena, who sailed gracefully through the crowd.
“I want you for a moment, Mr. Stanley. A friend of mine, Mrs. Gryffyn, is very anxious to make your acquaintance. She’s mad about land law reform and women’s suffrage.”
The old gentleman grinned and Mr. Northerton eyed me pityingly. There was no escape from the inquisitor. “Why on earth couldn’t you spare me this, Lena?” I whispered. “I want a talk with you all alone, not an hour with this virago.”
“Oh, it’s all right. I shall keep you company, and as she is going soon we shall be able to get into a quiet nook and have a long chat.”
The ordeal over, I had the luxury of a _tête-à-tête_ with my _fiancée_, and excellent use I made of the limited time at my disposal. I was very fond of Lena, who was not only a charmingly pretty girl, but, thank goodness! sympathized most cordially with the bulk of my political opinions. She never of course mixed with the peculiar circles I frequented, but dearly loved to follow my reports of the movements which they represented. The only person remotely connected with them she knew was Mrs. Hartmann, to whose house I had brought her in the hope that the old lady might find a friend. Lena was often to be seen in the little parlour at Islington, and knew probably more about the poor widow’s troubles than any one else. As her parents gave her complete freedom of action, she had plenty of opportunities for cultivating the acquaintance. After our private confidences had been duly exchanged, the conversation naturally drifted to this topic. I was anxious to know about the old lady’s welfare, and casually mentioned the rumour which concerned her son. “Had it reached her ears?”