THE
MAN
WHO
WAS
THURSDAY
A
NIGHTMARE
G
.
K
.
CHESTERTON
To
Edmund
Clerihew
Bentley
A
cloud
was
on
the
mind
of
men
,
and
wailing
went
the
weather
,
Yea
,
a
sick
cloud
upon
the
soul
when
we
were
boys
together
.
Science
announced
nonentity
and
art
admired
decay
;
The
world
was
old
and
ended
:
but
you
and
I
were
gay
;
Round
us
in
antic
order
their
crippled
vices
came
—
Lust
that
had
lost
its
laughter
,
fear
that
had
lost
its
shame
.
Like
the
white
lock
of
Whistler
,
that
lit
our
aimless
gloom
,
Men
showed
their
own
white
feather
as
proudly
as
a
plume
.
Life
was
a
fly
that
faded
,
and
death
a
drone
that
stung
;
The
world
was
very
old
indeed
when
you
and
I
were
young
.
They
twisted
even
decent
sin
to
shapes
not
to
be
named
:
Men
were
ashamed
of
honour
;
but
we
were
not
ashamed
.
Weak
if
we
were
and
foolish
,
not
thus
we
failed
,
not
thus­
;
When
that
black
Baal
blocked
the
heavens
he
had
no
hymns
from
us
Children
we
were
—
our
forts
of
sand
were
even
as
weak
as
eve
,
High
as
they
went
we
piled
them
up
to
break
that
bitter
sea
.
Fools
as
we
were
in
motley
,
all
jangling
and
absurd
,
When
all
church
bells
were
silent
our
cap
and
bells
were
heard
.
Not
all
unhelped
we
held
the
fort
,
our
tiny
flags
unfurled
;
Some
giants
laboured
in
that
cloud
to
lift
it
from
the
world
.
I
find
again
the
book
we
found
,
I
feel
the
hour
that
flings
Far
out
of
fish‑shaped
Paumanok
some
cry
of
cleaner
things
;
And
the
Green
Carnation
withered
,
as
in
forest
fires
that
pass
,
Roared
in
the
wind
of
all
the
world
ten
million
leaves
of
grass
;
Or
sane
and
sweet
and
sudden
as
a
bird
sings
in
the
rain
—
Truth
out
of
Tusitala
spoke
and
pleasure
out
of
pain
.
Yea
,
cool
and
clear
and
sudden
as
a
bird
sings
in
the
grey
,
Dunedin
to
Samoa
spoke
,
and
darkness
unto
day
.
But
we
were
young
;
we
lived
to
see
God
break
their
bitter
charms
.
God
and
the
good
Republic
come
riding
back
in
arms
:
We
have
seen
the
City
of
Mansoul
,
even
as
it
rocked
,
relieved
—
Blessed
are
they
who
did
not
see
,
but
being
blind
,
believed
.
This
is
a
tale
of
those
old
fears
,
even
of
those
emptied
hells
,
And
none
but
you
shall
understand
the
true
thing
that
it
tells
—
Of
what
colossal
gods
of
shame
could
cow
men
and
yet
crash
,
Of
what
huge
devils
hid
the
stars
,
yet
fell
at
a
pistol
flash
.
The
doubts
that
were
so
plain
to
chase
,
so
dreadful
to
withstand
—
Oh
,
who
shall
understand
but
you
;
yea
,
who
shall
understand
?
The
doubts
that
drove
us
through
the
night
as
we
two
talked
amain
,
And
day
had
broken
on
the
streets
e’er
it
broke
upon
the
brain
.
Between
us
,
by
the
peace
of
God
,
such
truth
can
now
be
told
;
Yea
,
there
is
strength
in
striking
root
and
good
in
growing
old
.
We
have
found
common
things
at
last
and
marriage
and
a
creed
,
And
I
may
safely
write
it
now
,
and
you
may
safely
read
.
G
.
K
.
C
.
CHAPTER
I
THE
TWO
POETS
OF
SAFFRON
PARK
THE
suburb
of
Saffron
Park
lay
on
the
sunset
side
of
London
,
as
red
and
ragged
as
a
cloud
of
sunset
.
It
was
built
of
a
bright
brick
throughout
;
its
sky‑line
was
fantastic
,
and
even
its
ground
plan
was
wild
.
It
had
been
the
outburst
of
a
speculative
builder
,
faintly
tinged
with
art
,
who
called
its
architecture
sometimes
Elizabethan
and
sometimes
Queen
Anne
,
apparently
under
the
impression
that
the
two
sovereigns
were
identical
.
It
was
described
with
some
justice
as
an
artistic
colony
,
though
it
never
in
any
definable
way
produced
any
art
.
But
although
its
pretensions
to
be
an
intellectual
centre
were
a
little
vague
,
its
pretensions
to
be
a
pleasant
place
were
quite
indisputable
.
The
stranger
who
looked
for
the
first
time
at
the
quaint
red
houses
could
only
think
how
very
oddly
shaped
the
people
must
be
who
could
fit
in
to
them
.
Nor
when
he
met
the
people
was
he
disappointed
in
this
respect
.
The
place
was
not
only
pleasant
,
but
perfect
,
if
once
he
could
regard
it
not
as
a
deception
but
rather
as
a
dream
.
Even
if
the
people
were
not
“
artists
,
”
the
whole
was
nevertheless
artistic
.
That
young
man
with
the
long
,
auburn
hair
and
the
impudent
face
—
that
young
man
was
not
really
a
poet
;
but
surely
he
was
a
poem
.
That
old
gentleman
with
the
wild
,
white
beard
and
the
wild
,
white
hat
—
that
venerable
humbug
was
not
really
a
philosopher
;
but
at
least
he
was
the
cause
of
philosophy
in
others
.
That
scientific
gentleman
with
the
bald
,
egg‑like
head
and
the
bare
,
bird‑like
neck
had
no
real
right
to
the
airs
of
science
that
he
assumed
.
He
had
not
discovered
anything
new
in
biology
;
but
what
biological
creature
could
he
have
discovered
more
singular
than
himself
?
Thus
,
and
thus
only
,
the
whole
place
had
properly
to
be
regarded
;
it
had
to
be
considered
not
so
much
as
a
workshop
for
artists
,
but
as
a
frail
but
finished
work
of
art
.
A
man
who
stepped
into
its
social
atmosphere
felt
as
if
he
had
stepped
into
a
written
comedy
.
More
especially
this
attractive
unreality
fell
upon
it
about
nightfall
,
when
the
extravagant
roofs
were
dark
against
the
afterglow
and
the
whole
insane
village
seemed
as
separate
as
a
drifting
cloud
.
This
again
was
more
strongly
true
of
the
many
nights
of
local
festivity
,
when
the
little
gardens
were
often
illuminated
,
and
the
big
Chinese
lanterns
glowed
in
the
dwarfish
trees
like
some
fierce
and
monstrous
fruit
.
And
this
was
strongest
of
all
on
one
particular
evening
,
still
vaguely
remembered
in
the
locality
,
of
which
the
auburn‑haired
poet
was
the
hero
.
It
was
not
by
any
means
the
only
evening
of
which
he
was
the
hero
.
On
many
nights
those
passing
by
his
little
back
garden
might
hear
his
high
,
didactic
voice
laying
down
the
law
to
men
and
particularly
to
women
.
The
attitude
of
women
in
such
cases
was
indeed
one
of
the
paradoxes
of
the
place
.
Most
of
the
women
were
of
the
kind
vaguely
called
emancipated
,
and
professed
some
protest
against
male
supremacy
.
Yet
these
new
women
would
always
pay
to
a
man
the
extravagant
compliment
which
no
ordinary
woman
ever
pays
to
him
,
that
of
listening
while
he
is
talking
.
And
Mr.
Lucian
Gregory
,
the
red‑haired
poet
,
was
really
(
in
some
sense
)
a
man
worth
listening
to
,
even
if
one
only
laughed
at
the
end
of
it
.
He
put
the
old
cant
of
the
lawlessness
of
art
and
the
art
of
lawlessness
with
a
certain
impudent
freshness
which
gave
at
least
a
momentary
pleasure
.
He
was
helped
in
some
degree
by
the
arresting
oddity
of
his
appearance
,
which
he
worked
,
as
the
phrase
goes
,
for
all
it
was
worth
.
His
dark
red
hair
parted
in
the
middle
was
literally
like
a
woman’s
,
and
curved
into
the
slow
curls
of
a
virgin
in
a
pre‑Raphaelite
picture
.
From
within
this
almost
saintly
oval
,
however
,
his
face
projected
suddenly
broad
and
brutal
,
the
chin
carried
forward
with
a
look
of
cockney
contempt
.
This
combination
at
once
tickled
and
terrified
the
nerves
of
a
neurotic
population
.
He
seemed
like
a
walking
blasphemy
,
a
blend
of
the
angel
and
the
ape
.
This
particular
evening
,
if
it
is
remembered
for
nothing
else
,
will
be
remembered
in
that
place
for
its
strange
sunset
.
It
looked
like
the
end
of
the
world
.
All
the
heaven
seemed
covered
with
a
quite
vivid
and
palpable
plumage
;
you
could
only
say
that
the
sky
was
full
of
feathers
,
and
of
feathers
that
almost
brushed
the
face
.
Across
the
great
part
of
the
dome
they
were
grey
,
with
the
strangest
tints
of
violet
and
mauve
and
an
unnatural
pink
or
pale
green
;
but
towards
the
west
the
whole
grew
past
description
,
transparent
and
passionate
,
and
the
last
red‑hot
plumes
of
it
covered
up
the
sun
like
something
too
good
to
be
seen
.
The
whole
was
so
close
about
the
earth
,
as
to
express
nothing
but
a
violent
secrecy
.
The
very
empyrean
seemed
to
be
a
secret
.
It
expressed
that
splendid
smallness
which
is
the
soul
of
local
patriotism
.
The
very
sky
seemed
small
.
I
say
that
there
are
some
inhabitants
who
may
remember
the
evening
if
only
by
that
oppressive
sky
.
There
are
others
who
may
remember
it
because
it
marked
the
first
appearance
in
the
place
of
the
second
poet
of
Saffron
Park
.
For
a
long
time
the
red‑haired
revolutionary
had
reigned
without
a
rival
;
it
was
upon
the
night
of
the
sunset
that
his
solitude
suddenly
ended
.
The
new
poet
,
who
introduced
himself
by
the
name
of
Gabriel
Syme
was
a
very
mild-looking
mortal
,
with
a
fair
,
pointed
beard
and
faint
,
yellow
hair
.
But
an
impression
grew
that
he
was
less
meek
than
he
looked
.
He
signalised
his
entrance
by
differing
with
the
established
poet
,
Gregory
,
upon
the
whole
nature
of
poetry
.
He
said
that
he
(
Syme
)
was
poet
of
law
,
a
poet
of
order
;
nay
,
he
said
he
was
a
poet
of
respectability
.
So
all
the
Saffron
Parkers
looked
at
him
as
if
he
had
that
moment
fallen
out
of
that
impossible
sky
.
In
fact
,
Mr.
Lucian
Gregory
,
the
anarchic
poet
,
connected
the
two
events
.
“
It
may
well
be
,
”
he
said
,
in
his
sudden
lyrical
manner
,
“
it
may
well
be
on
such
a
night
of
clouds
and
cruel
colours
that
there
is
brought
forth
upon
the
earth
such
a
portent
as
a
respectable
poet
.
You
say
you
are
a
poet
of
law
;
I
say
you
are
a
contradiction
in
terms
.
I
only
wonder
there
were
not
comets
and
earthquakes
on
the
night
you
appeared
in
this
garden
.
”
The
man
with
the
meek
blue
eyes
and
the
pale
,
pointed
beard
endured
these
thunders
with
a
certain
submissive
solemnity
.
The
third
party
of
the
group
,
Gregory’s
sister
Rosamond
,
who
had
her
brother’s
braids
of
red
hair
,
but
a
kindlier
face
underneath
them
,
laughed
with
such
mixture
of
admiration
and
disapproval
as
she
gave
commonly
to
the
family
oracle
.
Gregory
resumed
in
high
oratorical
good
humour
.
“
An
artist
is
identical
with
an
anarchist
,
”
he
cried
.
“
You
might
transpose
the
words
anywhere
.
An
anarchist
is
an
artist
.
The
man
who
throws
a
bomb
is
an
artist
,
because
he
prefers
a
great
moment
to
everything
.
He
sees
how
much
more
valuable
is
one
burst
of
blazing
light
,
one
peal
of
perfect
thunder
,
than
the
mere
common
bodies
of
a
few
shapeless
policemen
.
An
artist
disregards
all
governments
,
abolishes
all
conventions
.
The
poet
delights
in
disorder
only
.
If
it
were
not
so
,
the
most
poetical
thing
in
the
world
would
be
the
Underground
Railway
.
”
“
So
it
is
,
”
said
Mr.
Syme
.
“
Nonsense
!
”
said
Gregory
,
who
was
very
rational
when
anyone
else
attempted
paradox
.
“
Why
do
all
the
clerks
and
navvies
in
the
railway
trains
look
so
sad
and
tired
,
so
very
sad
and
tired
?
I
will
tell
you
.
It
is
because
they
know
that
the
train
is
going
right
.
It
is
because
they
know
that
whatever
place
they
have
taken
a
ticket
for
that
place
they
will
reach
.
It
is
because
after
they
have
passed
Sloane
Square
they
know
that
the
next
station
must
be
Victoria
,
and
nothing
but
Victoria
.
Oh
,
their
wild
rapture
!
oh
,
their
eyes
like
stars
and
their
souls
again
in
Eden
,
if
the
next
station
were
unaccountably
Baker
Street
!
”
“
It
is
you
who
are
unpoetical
,
”
replied
the
poet
Syme
.
“
If
what
you
say
of
clerks
is
true
,
they
can
only
be
as
prosaic
as
your
poetry
.
The
rare
,
strange
thing
is
to
hit
the
mark
;
the
gross
,
obvious
thing
is
to
miss
it
.
We
feel
it
is
epical
when
man
with
one
wild
arrow
strikes
a
distant
bird
.
Is
it
not
also
epical
when
man
with
one
wild
engine
strikes
a
distant
station
?
Chaos
is
dull
;
because
in
chaos
the
train
might
indeed
go
anywhere
,
to
Baker
Street
or
to
Bagdad
.
But
man
is
a
magician
,
and
his
whole
magic
is
in
this
,
that
he
does
say
Victoria
,
and
lo
!
it
is
Victoria
.
No
,
take
your
books
of
mere
poetry
and
prose
;
let
me
read
a
time
table
,
with
tears
of
pride
.
Take
your
Byron
,
who
commemorates
the
defeats
of
man
;
give
me
Bradshaw
,
who
commemorates
his
victories
.
Give
me
Bradshaw
,
I
say
!
”
“
Must
you
go
?
”
inquired
Gregory
sarcastically
.
“
I
tell
you
,
”
went
on
Syme
with
passion
,
“
that
every
time
a
train
comes
in
I
feel
that
it
has
broken
past
batteries
of
besiegers
,
and
that
man
has
won
a
battle
against
chaos
.
You
say
contemptuously
that
when
one
has
left
Sloane
Square
one
must
come
to
Victoria
.
I
say
that
one
might
do
a
thousand
things
instead
,
and
that
whenever
I
really
come
there
I
have
the
sense
of
hairbreadth
escape
.
And
when
I
hear
the
guard
shout
out
the
word
‘Victoria
,
’
it
is
not
an
unmeaning
word
.
It
is
to
me
the
cry
of
a
herald
announcing
conquest
.
It
is
to
me
indeed
‘Victoria’
;
it
is
the
victory
of
Adam
.
”
Gregory
wagged
his
heavy
,
red
head
with
a
slow
and
sad
smile
.
“
And
even
then
,
”
he
said
,
“
we
poets
always
ask
the
question
,
‘And
what
is
Victoria
now
that
you
have
got
there
?
’
You
think
Victoria
is
like
the
New
Jerusalem
.
We
know
that
the
New
Jerusalem
will
only
be
like
Victoria
.
Yes
,
the
poet
will
be
discontented
even
in
the
streets
of
heaven
.
The
poet
is
always
in
revolt
.
”
“
There
again
,
”
said
Syme
irritably
,
“
what
is
there
poetical
about
being
in
revolt
?
You
might
as
well
say
that
it
is
poetical
to
be
sea‑sick
.
Being
sick
is
a
revolt
.
Both
being
sick
and
being
rebellious
may
be
the
wholesome
thing
on
certain
desperate
occasions
;
but
I’m
hanged
if
I
can
see
why
they
are
poetical
.
Revolt
in
the
abstract
is
—
revolting
.
It’s
mere
vomiting
.
”
The
girl
winced
for
a
flash
at
the
unpleasant
word
,
but
Syme
was
too
hot
to
heed
her
.
“
It
is
things
going
right
,
”
he
cried
,
“
that
is
poetical
!
Our
digestions
,
for
instance
,
going
sacredly
and
silently
right
,
that
is
the
foundation
of
all
poetry
.
Yes
,
the
most
poetical
thing
,
more
poetical
than
the
flowers
,
more
poetical
than
the
stars
—
the
most
poetical
thing
in
the
world
is
not
being
sick
.
”
“
Really
,
”
said
Gregory
superciliously
,
“
the
examples
you
choose
—
”
“
I
beg
your
pardon
,
”
said
Syme
grimly
,
“
I
forgot
we
had
abolished
all
conventions
.
”
For
the
first
time
a
red
patch
appeared
on
Gregory’s
forehead
.
“
You
don’t
expect
me
,
”
he
said
,
“
to
revolutionise
society
on
this
lawn
?
”
Syme
looked
straight
into
his
eyes
and
smiled
sweetly
.
“
No
,
I
don’t
,
”
he
said
;
“
but
I
suppose
that
if
you
were
serious
about
your
anarchism
,
that
is
exactly
what
you
would
do
.
”
Gregory’s
big
bull’s
eyes
blinked
suddenly
like
those
of
an
angry
lion
,
and
one
could
almost
fancy
that
his
red
mane
rose
.
“
Don’t
you
think
,
then
,
”
he
said
in
a
dangerous
voice
,
“
that
I
am
serious
about
my
anarchism
?
”
“
I
beg
your
pardon
?
”
said
Syme
.
“
Am
I
not
serious
about
my
anarchism
?
”
cried
Gregory
,
with
knotted
fists
.
“
My
dear
fellow
!
”
said
Syme
,
and
strolled
away
.
With
surprise
,
but
with
a
curious
pleasure
,
he
found
Rosamond
Gregory
still
in
his
company
.
“
Mr.
Syme
,
”
she
said
,
“
do
the
people
who
talk
like
you
and
my
brother
often
mean
what
they
say
?
Do
you
mean
what
you
say
now
?
”
Syme
smiled
.
“
Do
you
?
”
he
asked
.
“
What
do
you
mean
?
”
asked
the
girl
,
with
grave
eyes
.
“
My
dear
Miss
Gregory
,
”
said
Syme
gently
,
“
there
are
many
kinds
of
sincerity
and
insincerity
.
When
you
say
‘thank
you’
for
the
salt
,
do
you
mean
what
you
say
?
No.
When
you
say
‘the
world
is
round
,
’
do
you
mean
what
you
say
?
No.
It
is
true
,
but
you
don’t
mean
it
.
Now
,
sometimes
a
man
like
your
brother
really
finds
a
thing
he
does
mean
.
It
may
be
only
a
half‑truth
,
quarter‑truth
,
tenth‑truth
;
but
then
he
says
more
than
he
means
—
from
sheer
force
of
meaning
it
.
”
She
was
looking
at
him
from
under
level
brows
;
her
face
was
grave
and
open
,
and
there
had
fallen
upon
it
the
shadow
of
that
unreasoning
responsibility
which
is
at
the
bottom
of
the
most
frivolous
woman
,
the
maternal
watch
which
is
as
old
as
the
world
.
“
Is
he
really
an
anarchist
,
then
?
”
she
asked
.
“
Only
in
that
sense
I
speak
of
,
”
replied
Syme
;
“
or
if
you
prefer
it
,
in
that
nonsense
.
”
She
drew
her
broad
brows
together
and
said
abruptly
—
“
He
wouldn’t
really
use
—
bombs
or
that
sort
of
thing
?
”
Syme
broke
into
a
great
laugh
,
that
seemed
too
large
for
his
slight
and
somewhat
dandified
figure
.
“
Good
Lord
,
no
!
”
he
said
,
“
that
has
to
be
done
anonymously
.
”
And
at
that
the
corners
of
her
own
mouth
broke
into
a
smile
,
and
she
thought
with
a
simultaneous
pleasure
of
Gregory’s
absurdity
and
of
his
safety
.
Syme
strolled
with
her
to
a
seat
in
the
corner
of
the
garden
,
and
continued
to
pour
out
his
opinions
.
For
he
was
a
sincere
man
,
and
in
spite
of
his
superficial
airs
and
graces
,
at
root
a
humble
one
.
And
it
is
always
the
humble
man
who
talks
too
much
;
the
proud
man
watches
himself
too
closely
.
He
defended
respectability
with
violence
and
exaggeration
.
He
grew
passionate
in
his
praise
of
tidiness
and
propriety
.
All
the
time
there
was
a
smell
of
lilac
all
round
him
.
Once
he
heard
very
faintly
in
some
distant
street
a
barrel‑organ
begin
to
play
,
and
it
seemed
to
him
that
his
heroic
words
were
moving
to
a
tiny
tune
from
under
or
beyond
the
world
.
He
stared
and
talked
at
the
girl’s
red
hair
and
amused
face
for
what
seemed
to
be
a
few
minutes
;
and
then
,
feeling
that
the
groups
in
such
a
place
should
mix
,
rose
to
his
feet
.
To
his
astonishment
,
he
discovered
the
whole
garden
empty
.
Everyone
had
gone
long
ago
,
and
he
went
himself
with
a
rather
hurried
apology
.
He
left
with
a
sense
of
champagne
in
his
head
,
which
he
could
not
afterwards
explain
.
In
the
wild
events
which
were
to
follow
this
girl
had
no
part
at
all
;
he
never
saw
her
again
until
all
his
tale
was
over
.
And
yet
,
in
some
indescribable
way
,
she
kept
recurring
like
a
motive
in
music
through
all
his
mad
adventures
afterwards
,
and
the
glory
of
her
strange
hair
ran
like
a
red
thread
through
those
dark
and
ill‑drawn
tapestries
of
the
night
.
For
what
followed
was
so
improbable
,
that
it
might
well
have
been
a
dream
.
When
Syme
went
out
into
the
starlit
street
,
he
found
it
for
the
moment
empty
.
Then
he
realised
(
in
some
odd
way
)
that
the
silence
was
rather
a
living
silence
than
a
dead
one
.
Directly
outside
the
door
stood
a
street
lamp
,
whose
gleam
gilded
the
leaves
of
the
tree
that
bent
out
over
the
fence
behind
him
.
About
a
foot
from
the
lamp‑post
stood
a
figure
almost
as
rigid
and
motionless
as
the
lamp‑post
itself
.
The
tall
hat
and
long
frock
coat
were
black
;
the
face
,
in
an
abrupt
shadow
,
was
almost
as
dark
.
Only
a
fringe
of
fiery
hair
against
the
light
,
and
also
something
aggressive
in
the
attitude
,
proclaimed
that
it
was
the
poet
Gregory
.
He
had
something
of
the
look
of
a
masked
bravo
waiting
sword
in
hand
for
his
foe
.
He
made
a
sort
of
doubtful
salute
,
which
Syme
somewhat
more
formally
returned
.
“
I
was
waiting
for
you
,
”
said
Gregory
.
“
Might
I
have
a
moment’s
conversation
?
”
“
Certainly
.
About
what
?
”
asked
Syme
in
a
sort
of
weak
wonder
.
Gregory
struck
out
with
his
stick
at
the
lamp‑post
,
and
then
at
the
tree
.
“
About
this
and
this
,
”
he
cried
;
“
about
order
and
anarchy
.
There
is
your
precious
order
,
that
lean
,
iron
lamp
,
ugly
and
barren
;
and
there
is
anarchy
,
rich
,
living
,
reproducing
itself
—
there
is
anarchy
,
splendid
in
green
and
gold
.
”
“
All
the
same
,
”
replied
Syme
patiently
,
“
just
at
present
you
only
see
the
tree
by
the
light
of
the
lamp
.
I
wonder
when
you
would
ever
see
the
lamp
by
the
light
of
the
tree
.
”
Then
after
a
pause
he
said
,
“
But
may
I
ask
if
you
have
been
standing
out
here
in
the
dark
only
to
resume
our
little
argument
?
”
“
No
,
”
cried
out
Gregory
,
in
a
voice
that
rang
down
the
street
,
“
I
did
not
stand
here
to
resume
our
argument
,
but
to
end
it
for
ever
.
”
The
silence
fell
again
,
and
Syme
,
though
he
understood
nothing
,
listened
instinctively
for
something
serious
.
Gregory
began
in
a
smooth
voice
and
with
a
rather
bewildering
smile
.
“
Mr.
Syme
,
”
he
said
,
“
this
evening
you
succeeded
in
doing
something
rather
remarkable
.
You
did
something
to
me
that
no
man
born
of
woman
has
ever
succeeded
in
doing
before
.
”
“
Indeed
!
”
“
Now
I
remember
,
”
resumed
Gregory
reflectively
,
“
one
other
person
succeeded
in
doing
it
.
The
captain
of
a
penny
steamer
(
if
I
remember
correctly
)
at
Southend
.
You
have
irritated
me
.
”
“
I
am
very
sorry
,
”
replied
Syme
with
gravity
.
“
I
am
afraid
my
fury
and
your
insult
are
too
shocking
to
be
wiped
out
even
with
an
apology
,
”
said
Gregory
very
calmly
.
“
No
duel
could
wipe
it
out
.
If
I
struck
you
dead
I
could
not
wipe
it
out
.
There
is
only
one
way
by
which
that
insult
can
be
erased
,
and
that
way
I
choose
.
I
am
going
,
at
the
possible
sacrifice
of
my
life
and
honour
,
to
prove
to
you
that
you
were
wrong
in
what
you
said
.
”
“
In
what
I
said
?
”
“
You
said
I
was
not
serious
about
being
an
anarchist
.
”
“
There
are
degrees
of
seriousness
,
”
replied
Syme
.
“
I
have
never
doubted
that
you
were
perfectly
sincere
in
this
sense
,
that
you
thought
what
you
said
well
worth
saying
,
that
you
thought
a
paradox
might
wake
men
up
to
a
neglected
truth
.
”
Gregory
stared
at
him
steadily
and
painfully
.
“
And
in
no
other
sense
,
”
he
asked
,
“
you
think
me
serious
?
You
think
me
a
flâneur
who
lets
fall
occasional
truths
.
You
do
not
think
that
in
a
deeper
,
a
more
deadly
sense
,
I
am
serious
.
”
Syme
struck
his
stick
violently
on
the
stones
of
the
road
.
“
Serious
!
”
he
cried
.
“
Good
Lord
!
is
this
street
serious
?
Are
these
damned
Chinese
lanterns
serious
?
Is
the
whole
caboodle
serious
?
One
comes
here
and
talks
a
pack
of
bosh
,
and
perhaps
some
sense
as
well
,
but
I
should
think
very
little
of
a
man
who
didn’t
keep
something
in
the
background
of
his
life
that
was
more
serious
than
all
this
talking
—
something
more
serious
,
whether
it
was
religion
or
only
drink
.
”
“
Very
well
,
”
said
Gregory
,
his
face
darkening
,
“
you
shall
see
something
more
serious
than
either
drink
or
religion
.
”
Syme
stood
waiting
with
his
usual
air
of
mildness
until
Gregory
again
opened
his
lips
.
“
You
spoke
just
now
of
having
a
religion
.
Is
it
really
true
that
you
have
one
?
”
“
Oh
,
”
said
Syme
with
a
beaming
smile
,
“
we
are
all
Catholics
now
.
”
“
Then
may
I
ask
you
to
swear
by
whatever
gods
or
saints
your
religion
involves
that
you
will
not
reveal
what
I
am
now
going
to
tell
you
to
any
son
of
Adam
,
and
especially
not
to
the
police
?
Will
you
swear
that
!
If
you
will
take
upon
yourself
this
awful
abnegations
if
you
will
consent
to
burden
your
soul
with
a
vow
that
you
should
never
make
and
a
knowledge
you
should
never
dream
about
,
I
will
promise
you
in
return
—
”
“
You
will
promise
me
in
return
?
”
inquired
Syme
,
as
the
other
paused
.
“
I
will
promise
you
a
very
entertaining
evening
.
”
Syme
suddenly
took
off
his
hat
.
“
Your
offer
,
”
he
said
,
“
is
far
too
idiotic
to
be
declined
.
You
say
that
a
poet
is
always
an
anarchist
.
I
disagree
;
but
I
hope
at
least
that
he
is
always
a
sportsman
.
Permit
me
,
here
and
now
,
to
swear
as
a
Christian
,
and
promise
as
a
good
comrade
and
a
fellow‑artist
,
that
I
will
not
report
anything
of
this
,
whatever
it
is
,
to
the
police
.
And
now
,
in
the
name
of
Colney
Hatch
,
what
is
it
?
”
“
I
think
,
”
said
Gregory
,
with
placid
irrelevancy
,
“
that
we
will
call
a
cab
.
”
He
gave
two
long
whistles
,
and
a
hansom
came
rattling
down
the
road
.
The
two
got
into
it
in
silence
.
Gregory
gave
through
the
trap
the
address
of
an
obscure
public‑house
on
the
Chiswick
bank
of
the
river
.
The
cab
whisked
itself
away
again
,
and
in
it
these
two
fantastics
quitted
their
fantastic
town
.
CHAPTER
II
THE
SECRET
OF
GABRIEL
SYME
THE
cab
pulled
up
before
a
particularly
dreary
and
greasy
beershop
,
into
which
Gregory
rapidly
conducted
his
companion
.
They
seated
themselves
in
a
close
and
dim
sort
of
bar‑parlour
,
at
a
stained
wooden
table
with
one
wooden
leg
.
The
room
was
so
small
and
dark
,
that
very
little
could
be
seen
of
the
attendant
who
was
summoned
,
beyond
a
vague
and
dark
impression
of
something
bulky
and
bearded
.
“
Will
you
take
a
little
supper
?
”
asked
Gregory
politely
.
“
The
pâté
de
foie
gras
is
not
good
here
,
but
I
can
recommend
the
game
.
”
Syme
received
the
remark
with
stolidity
,
imagining
it
to
be
a
joke
.
Accepting
the
vein
of
humour
,
he
said
,
with
a
well‑bred
indifference
—
“
Oh
,
bring
me
some
lobster
mayonnaise
.
”
To
his
indescribable
astonishment
,
the
man
only
said
“
Certainly
,
sir
!
”
and
went
away
apparently
to
get
it
.
“
What
will
you
drink
?
”
resumed
Gregory
,
with
the
same
careless
yet
apologetic
air
.
“
I
shall
only
have
a
crême
de
menthe
myself
;
I
have
dined
.
But
the
champagne
can
really
be
trusted
.
Do
let
me
start
you
with
a
half‑bottle
of
Pommery
at
least
?
”
“
Thank
you
!
”
said
the
motionless
Syme
.
“
You
are
very
good
.
”
His
further
attempts
at
conversation
,
somewhat
disorganised
in
themselves
,
were
cut
short
finally
as
by
a
thunderbolt
by
the
actual
appearance
of
the
lobster
.
Syme
tasted
it
,
and
found
it
particularly
good
.
Then
he
suddenly
began
to
eat
with
great
rapidity
and
appetite
.
“
Excuse
me
if
I
enjoy
myself
rather
obviously
!
”
he
said
to
Gregory
,
smiling
.
“
I
don’t
often
have
the
luck
to
have
a
dream
like
this
.
It
is
new
to
me
for
a
nightmare
to
lead
to
a
lobster
.
It
is
commonly
the
other
way
.
”
“
You
are
not
asleep
,
I
assure
you
,
”
said
Gregory
.
“
You
are
,
on
the
contrary
,
close
to
the
most
actual
and
rousing
moment
of
your
existence
.
Ah
,
here
comes
your
champagne
!
I
admit
that
there
may
be
a
slight
disproportion
,
let
us
say
,
between
the
inner
arrangements
of
this
excellent
hotel
and
its
simple
and
unpretentious
exterior
.
But
that
is
all
our
modesty
.
We
are
the
most
modest
men
that
ever
lived
on
earth
.
”
“
And
who
are
we
?
”
asked
Syme
,
emptying
his
champagne
glass
.
“
It
is
quite
simple
,
”
replied
Gregory
.
”
We
are
the
serious
anarchists
,
in
whom
you
do
not
believe
.
”
“
Oh
!
”
said
Syme
shortly
.
“
You
do
yourselves
well
in
drinks
.
”
“
Yes
,
we
are
serious
about
everything
,
”
answered
Gregory
.
Then
after
a
pause
he
added
—
“
If
in
a
few
moments
this
table
begins
to
turn
round
a
little
,
don’t
put
it
down
to
your
inroads
into
the
champagne
.
I
don’t
wish
you
to
do
yourself
an
injustice
.
”
“
Well
,
if
I
am
not
drunk
,
I
am
mad
,
”
replied
Syme
with
perfect
calm
;
“
but
I
trust
I
can
behave
like
a
gentleman
in
either
condition
.
May
I
smoke
?
”
“
Certainly
!
”
said
Gregory
,
producing
a
cigar‑case
.
“
Try
one
of
mine
.
”
Syme
took
the
cigar
,
clipped
the
end
off
with
a
cigar-cutter
out
of
his
waistcoat
pocket
,
put
it
in
his
mouth
,
lit
it
slowly
,
and
let
out
a
long
cloud
of
smoke
.
It
is
not
a
little
to
his
credit
that
he
performed
these
rites
with
so
much
composure
,
for
almost
before
he
had
begun
them
the
table
at
which
he
sat
had
begun
to
revolve
,
first
slowly
,
and
then
rapidly
,
as
if
at
an
insane
séance
.
“
You
must
not
mind
it
,
”
said
Gregory
;
“
it’s
a
kind
of
screw
.
”
“
Quite
so
,
”
said
Syme
placidly
,
“
a
kind
of
screw
.
How
simple
that
is
!
”
The
next
moment
the
smoke
of
his
cigar
,
which
had
been
wavering
across
the
room
in
snaky
twists
,
went
straight
up
as
if
from
a
factory
chimney
,
and
the
two
,
with
their
chairs
and
table
,
shot
down
through
the
floor
as
if
the
earth
had
swallowed
them
.
They
went
rattling
down
a
kind
of
roaring
chimney
as
rapidly
as
a
lift
cut
loose
,
and
they
came
with
an
abrupt
bump
to
the
bottom
.
But
when
Gregory
threw
open
a
pair
of
doors
and
let
in
a
red
subterranean
light
,
Syme
was
still
smoking
with
one
leg
thrown
over
the
other
,
and
had
not
turned
a
yellow
hair
.
Gregory
led
him
down
a
low
,
vaulted
passage
,
at
the
end
of
which
was
the
red
light
.
It
was
an
enormous
crimson
lantern
,
nearly
as
big
as
a
fireplace
,
fixed
over
a
small
but
heavy
iron
door
.
In
the
door
there
was
a
sort
of
hatchway
or
grating
,
and
on
this
Gregory
struck
five
times
.
A
heavy
voice
with
a
foreign
accent
asked
him
who
he
was
.
To
this
he
gave
the
more
or
less
unexpected
reply
,
“
Mr.
Joseph
Chamberlain
.
”
The
heavy
hinges
began
to
move
;
it
was
obviously
some
kind
of
password
.
Inside
the
doorway
the
passage
gleamed
as
if
it
were
lined
with
a
network
of
steel
.
On
a
second
glance
,
Syme
saw
that
the
glittering
pattern
was
really
made
up
of
ranks
and
ranks
of
rifles
and
revolvers
,
closely
packed
or
interlocked
.
“
I
must
ask
you
to
forgive
me
all
these
formalities
,
”
said
Gregory
;
“
we
have
to
be
very
strict
here
.
”
“
Oh
,
don’t
apologise
,
”
said
Syme
.
“
I
know
your
passion
for
law
and
order
,
”
and
he
stepped
into
the
passage
lined
with
the
steel
weapons
.
With
his
long
,
fair
hair
and
rather
foppish
frock‑coat
,
he
looked
a
singularly
frail
and
fanciful
figure
as
he
walked
down
that
shining
avenue
of
death
.
They
passed
through
several
such
passages
,
and
came
out
at
last
into
a
queer
steel
chamber
with
curved
walls
,
almost
spherical
in
shape
,
but
presenting
,
with
its
tiers
of
benches
,
something
of
the
appearance
of
a
scientific
lecture-theatre
.
There
were
no
rifles
or
pistols
in
this
apartment
,
but
round
the
walls
of
it
were
hung
more
dubious
and
dreadful
shapes
,
things
that
looked
like
the
bulbs
of
iron
plants
,
or
the
eggs
of
iron
birds
.
They
were
bombs
,
and
the
very
room
itself
seemed
like
the
inside
of
a
bomb
.
Syme
knocked
his
cigar
ash
off
against
the
wall
,
and
went
in
.
“
And
now
,
my
dear
Mr.
Syme
,
”
said
Gregory
,
throwing
himself
in
an
expansive
manner
on
the
bench
under
the
largest
bomb
,
“
now
we
are
quite
cosy
,
so
let
us
talk
properly
.
Now
no
human
words
can
give
you
any
notion
of
why
I
brought
you
here
.
It
was
one
of
those
quite
arbitrary
emotions
,
like
jumping
off
a
cliff
or
falling
in
love
.
Suffice
it
to
say
that
you
were
an
inexpressibly
irritating
fellow
,
and
,
to
do
you
justice
,
you
are
still
.
I
would
break
twenty
oaths
of
secrecy
for
the
pleasure
of
taking
you
down
a
peg
.
That
way
you
have
of
lighting
a
cigar
would
make
a
priest
break
the
seal
of
confession
.
Well
,
you
said
that
you
were
quite
certain
I
was
not
a
serious
anarchist
.
Does
this
place
strike
you
as
being
serious
?
”
“
It
does
seem
to
have
a
moral
under
all
its
gaiety
,
”
assented
Syme
;
“
but
may
I
ask
you
two
questions
?
You
need
not
fear
to
give
me
information
,
because
,
as
you
remember
,
you
very
wisely
extorted
from
me
a
promise
not
to
tell
the
police
,
a
promise
I
shall
certainly
keep
.
So
it
is
in
mere
curiosity
that
I
make
my
queries
.
First
of
all
,
what
is
it
really
all
about
?
What
is
it
you
object
to
?
You
want
to
abolish
Government
?
”
“
To
abolish
God
!
”
said
Gregory
,
opening
the
eyes
of
a
fanatic
.
“
We
do
not
only
want
to
upset
a
few
despotisms
and
police
regulations
;
that
sort
of
anarchism
does
exist
,
but
it
is
a
mere
branch
of
the
Nonconformists
.
We
dig
deeper
and
we
blow
you
higher
.
We
wish
to
deny
all
those
arbitrary
distinctions
of
vice
and
virtue
,
honour
and
treachery
,
upon
which
mere
rebels
base
themselves
.
The
silly
sentimentalists
of
the
French
Revolution
talked
of
the
Rights
of
Man
!
We
hate
Rights
as
we
hate
Wrongs
.
We
have
abolished
Right
and
Wrong
.
”
“
And
Right
and
Left
,
”
said
Syme
with
a
simple
eagerness
,
“
I
hope
you
will
abolish
them
too
.
They
are
much
more
troublesome
to
me
.
”
“
You
spoke
of
a
second
question
,
”
snapped
Gregory
.
“
With
pleasure
,
”
resumed
Syme
.
“
In
all
your
present
acts
and
surroundings
there
is
a
scientific
attempt
at
secrecy
.
I
have
an
aunt
who
lived
over
a
shop
,
but
this
is
the
first
time
I
have
found
people
living
from
preference
under
a
public‑house
.
You
have
a
heavy
iron
door
.
You
cannot
pass
it
without
submitting
to
the
humiliation
of
calling
yourself
Mr.
Chamberlain
.
You
surround
yourself
with
steel
instruments
which
make
the
place
,
if
I
may
say
so
,
more
impressive
than
homelike
.
May
I
ask
why
,
after
taking
all
this
trouble
to
barricade
yourselves
in
the
bowels
of
the
earth
,
you
then
parade
your
whole
secret
by
talking
about
anarchism
to
every
silly
woman
in
Saffron
Park
?
”
Gregory
smiled
.
“
The
answer
is
simple
,
”
he
said
.
“
I
told
you
I
was
a
serious
anarchist
,
and
you
did
not
believe
me
.
Nor
do
they
believe
me
.
Unless
I
took
them
into
this
infernal
room
they
would
not
believe
me
.
”
Syme
smoked
thoughtfully
,
and
looked
at
him
with
interest
.
Gregory
went
on
.
“
The
history
of
the
thing
might
amuse
you
,
”
he
said
.
“
When
first
I
became
one
of
the
New
Anarchists
I
tried
all
kinds
of
respectable
disguises
.
I
dressed
up
as
a
bishop
.
I
read
up
all
about
bishops
in
our
anarchist
pamphlets
,
in
Superstition
the
Vampire
and
Priests
of
Prey
.
I
certainly
understood
from
them
that
bishops
are
strange
and
terrible
old
men
keeping
a
cruel
secret
from
mankind
.
I
was
misinformed
.
When
on
my
first
appearing
in
episcopal
gaiters
in
a
drawing‑room
I
cried
out
in
a
voice
of
thunder
,
‘Down
!
down
!
presumptuous
human
reason
!
’
they
found
out
in
some
way
that
I
was
not
a
bishop
at
all
.
I
was
nabbed
at
once
.
Then
I
made
up
as
a
millionaire
;
but
I
defended
Capital
with
so
much
intelligence
that
a
fool
could
see
that
I
was
quite
poor
.
Then
I
tried
being
a
major
.
Now
I
am
a
humanitarian
myself
,
but
I
have
,
I
hope
,
enough
intellectual
breadth
to
understand
the
position
of
those
who
,
like
Nietzsche
,
admire
violence
—
the
proud
,
mad
war
of
Nature
and
all
that
,
you
know
.
I
threw
myself
into
the
major
.
I
drew
my
sword
and
waved
it
constantly
.
I
called
out
‘Blood
!
’
abstractedly
,
like
a
man
calling
for
wine
.
I
often
said
,
‘Let
the
weak
perish
;
it
is
the
Law.’
Well
,
well
,
it
seems
majors
don’t
do
this
.
I
was
nabbed
again
.
At
last
I
went
in
despair
to
the
President
of
the
Central
Anarchist
Council
,
who
is
the
greatest
man
in
Europe
.
”
“
What
is
his
name
?
”
asked
Syme
.
“
You
would
not
know
it
,
”
answered
Gregory
.
“
That
is
his
greatness
.
Caesar
and
Napoleon
put
all
their
genius
into
being
heard
of
,
and
they
were
heard
of
.
He
puts
all
his
genius
into
not
being
heard
of
,
and
he
is
not
heard
of
.
But
you
cannot
be
for
five
minutes
in
the
room
with
him
without
feeling
that
Caesar
and
Napoleon
would
have
been
children
in
his
hands
.
”
He
was
silent
and
even
pale
for
a
moment
,
and
then
resumed
—
“
But
whenever
he
gives
advice
it
is
always
something
as
startling
as
an
epigram
,
and
yet
as
practical
as
the
Bank
of
England
.
I
said
to
him
,
‘What
disguise
will
hide
me
from
the
world
?
What
can
I
find
more
respectable
than
bishops
and
majors
?
’
He
looked
at
me
with
his
large
but
indecipherable
face
.
‘You
want
a
safe
disguise
,
do
you
?
You
want
a
dress
which
will
guarantee
you
harmless
;
a
dress
in
which
no
one
would
ever
look
for
a
bomb
?
’
I
nodded
.
He
suddenly
lifted
his
lion’s
voice
.
‘Why
,
then
,
dress
up
as
an
anarchist
,
you
fool
!
’
he
roared
so
that
the
room
shook
.
‘Nobody
will
ever
expect
you
to
do
anything
dangerous
then.’
And
he
turned
his
broad
back
on
me
without
another
word
.
I
took
his
advice
,
and
have
never
regretted
it
.
I
preached
blood
and
murder
to
those
women
day
and
night
,
and
—
by
God
!
—
they
would
let
me
wheel
their
perambulators
.
”
Syme
sat
watching
him
with
some
respect
in
his
large
,
blue
eyes
.
“
You
took
me
in
,
”
he
said
.
“
It
is
really
a
smart
dodge
.
”
Then
after
a
pause
he
added
—
“
What
do
you
call
this
tremendous
President
of
yours
?
”
“
We
generally
call
him
Sunday
,
”
replied
Gregory
with
simplicity
.
‘You
see
,
there
are
seven
members
of
the
Central
Anarchist
Council
,
and
they
are
named
after
days
of
the
week
.
He
is
called
Sunday
,
by
some
of
his
admirers
Bloody
Sunday
.
It
is
curious
you
should
mention
the
matter
,
because
the
very
night
you
have
dropped
in
(
if
I
may
so
express
it
)
is
the
night
on
which
our
London
branch
,
which
assembles
in
this
room
,
has
to
elect
its
own
deputy
to
fill
a
vacancy
in
the
Council
.
The
gentleman
who
has
for
some
time
past
played
,
with
propriety
and
general
applause
,
the
difficult
part
of
Thursday
,
has
died
quite
suddenly
.
Consequently
,
we
have
called
a
meeting
this
very
evening
to
elect
a
successor
.
”
He
got
to
his
feet
and
strolled
across
the
room
with
a
sort
of
smiling
embarrassment
.
“
I
feel
somehow
as
if
you
were
my
mother
,
Syme
,
”
he
continued
casually
.
“
I
feel
that
I
can
confide
anything
to
you
,
as
you
have
promised
to
tell
nobody
.
In
fact
,
I
will
confide
to
you
something
that
I
would
not
say
in
so
many
words
to
the
anarchists
who
will
be
coming
to
the
room
in
about
ten
minutes
.
We
shall
,
of
course
,
go
through
a
form
of
election
;
but
I
don’t
mind
telling
you
that
it
is
practically
certain
what
the
result
will
be
.
”
He
looked
down
for
a
moment
modestly
.
“
It
is
almost
a
settled
thing
that
I
am
to
be
Thursday
.
”
“
My
dear
fellow
.
”
said
Syme
heartily
,
“
I
congratulate
you
.
A
great
career
!
”
Gregory
smiled
in
deprecation
,
and
walked
across
the
room
,
talking
rapidly
.
“
As
a
matter
of
fact
,
everything
is
ready
for
me
on
this
table
,
”
he
said
,
“
and
the
ceremony
will
probably
be
the
shortest
possible
.
”
Syme
also
strolled
across
to
the
table
,
and
found
lying
across
it
a
walking‑stick
,
which
turned
out
on
examination
to
be
a
sword‑stick
,
a
large
Colt’s
revolver
,
a
sandwich
case
,
and
a
formidable
flask
of
brandy
.
Over
the
chair
,
beside
the
table
,
was
thrown
a
heavy‑looking
cape
or
cloak
.
“
I
have
only
to
get
the
form
of
election
finished
,
”
continued
Gregory
with
animation
,
“
then
I
snatch
up
this
cloak
and
stick
,
stuff
these
other
things
into
my
pocket
,
step
out
of
a
door
in
this
cavern
,
which
opens
on
the
river
,
where
there
is
a
steam‑tug
already
waiting
for
me
,
and
then
—
then
—
oh
,
the
wild
joy
of
being
Thursday
!
”
And
he
clasped
his
hands
.
Syme
,
who
had
sat
down
once
more
with
his
usual
insolent
languor
,
got
to
his
feet
with
an
unusual
air
of
hesitation
.
“
Why
is
it
,
”
he
asked
vaguely
,
“
that
I
think
you
are
quite
a
decent
fellow
?
Why
do
I
positively
like
you
,
Gregory
?
”
He
paused
a
moment
,
and
then
added
with
a
sort
of
fresh
curiosity
,
“
Is
it
because
you
are
such
an
ass
?
”
There
was
a
thoughtful
silence
again
,
and
then
he
cried
out
—
“
Well
,
damn
it
all
!
this
is
the
funniest
situation
I
have
ever
been
in
in
my
life
,
and
I
am
going
to
act
accordingly
.
Gregory
,
I
gave
you
a
promise
before
I
came
into
this
place
.
That
promise
I
would
keep
under
red‑hot
pincers
.
Would
you
give
me
,
for
my
own
safety
,
a
little
promise
of
the
same
kind
?
”
“
A
promise
?
”
asked
Gregory
,
wondering
.
“
Yes
,
”
said
Syme
very
seriously
,
“
a
promise
.
I
swore
before
God
that
I
would
not
tell
your
secret
to
the
police
.
Will
you
swear
by
Humanity
,
or
whatever
beastly
thing
you
believe
in
,
that
you
will
not
tell
my
secret
to
the
anarchists
?
”
“
Your
secret
?
”
asked
the
staring
Gregory
.
“
Have
you
got
a
secret
?
”
“
Yes
,
”
said
Syme
,
“
I
have
a
secret
.
”
Then
after
a
pause
,
“
Will
you
swear
?
”
Gregory
glared
at
him
gravely
for
a
few
moments
,
and
then
said
abruptly
—
“
You
must
have
bewitched
me
,
but
I
feel
a
furious
curiosity
about
you
.
Yes
,
I
will
swear
not
to
tell
the
anarchists
anything
you
tell
me
.
But
look
sharp
,
for
they
will
be
here
in
a
couple
of
minutes
.
”
Syme
rose
slowly
to
his
feet
and
thrust
his
long
,
white
hands
into
his
long
,
grey
trousers’
pockets
.
Almost
as
he
did
so
there
came
five
knocks
on
the
outer
grating
,
proclaiming
the
arrival
of
the
first
of
the
conspirators
.
“
Well
,
”
said
Syme
slowly
,
“
I
don’t
know
how
to
tell
you
the
truth
more
shortly
than
by
saying
that
your
expedient
of
dressing
up
as
an
aimless
poet
is
not
confined
to
you
or
your
President
.
We
have
known
the
dodge
for
some
time
at
Scotland
Yard
.
”
Gregory
tried
to
spring
up
straight
,
but
he
swayed
thrice
.
“
What
do
you
say
?
”
he
asked
in
an
inhuman
voice
.
“
Yes
,
”
said
Syme
simply
,
“
I
am
a
police
detective
.
But
I
think
I
hear
your
friends
coming
.
”
From
the
doorway
there
came
a
murmur
of
“
Mr.
Joseph
Chamberlain
.
”
It
was
repeated
twice
and
thrice
,
and
then
thirty
times
,
and
the
crowd
of
Joseph
Chamberlains
(
a
solemn
thought
)
could
be
heard
trampling
down
the
corridor
.
CHAPTER
III
THE
MAN
WHO
WAS
THURSDAY
BEFORE
one
of
the
fresh
faces
could
appear
at
the
doorway
,
Gregory’s
stunned
surprise
had
fallen
from
him
.
He
was
beside
the
table
with
a
bound
,
and
a
noise
in
his
throat
like
a
wild
beast
.
He
caught
up
the
Colt’s
revolver
and
took
aim
at
Syme
.
Syme
did
not
flinch
,
but
he
put
up
a
pale
and
polite
hand
.
“
Don’t
be
such
a
silly
man
,
”
he
said
,
with
the
effeminate
dignity
of
a
curate
.
“
Don’t
you
see
it’s
not
necessary
?
Don’t
you
see
that
we’re
both
in
the
same
boat
?
Yes
,
and
jolly
sea‑sick
.
”
Gregory
could
not
speak
,
but
he
could
not
fire
either
,
and
he
looked
his
question
.
“
Don’t
you
see
we’ve
checkmated
each
other
?
”
cried
Syme
.
“
I
can’t
tell
the
police
you
are
an
anarchist
.
You
can’t
tell
the
anarchists
I’m
a
policeman
.
I
can
only
watch
you
,
knowing
what
you
are
;
you
can
only
watch
me
,
knowing
what
I
am
.
In
short
,
it’s
a
lonely
,
intellectual
duel
,
my
head
against
yours
.
I’m
a
policeman
deprived
of
the
help
of
the
police
.
You
,
my
poor
fellow
,
are
an
anarchist
deprived
of
the
help
of
that
law
and
organisation
which
is
so
essential
to
anarchy
.
The
one
solitary
difference
is
in
your
favour
.
You
are
not
surrounded
by
inquisitive
policemen
;
I
am
surrounded
by
inquisitive
anarchists
.
I
cannot
betray
you
,
but
I
might
betray
myself
.
Come
,
come
!
wait
and
see
me
betray
myself
.
I
shall
do
it
so
nicely
.
”
Gregory
put
the
pistol
slowly
down
,
still
staring
at
Syme
as
if
he
were
a
sea-monster
.
“
I
don’t
believe
in
immortality
,
”
he
said
at
last
,
“
but
if
,
after
all
this
,
you
were
to
break
your
word
,
God
would
make
a
hell
only
for
you
,
to
howl
in
for
ever
.
”
“
I
shall
not
break
my
word
,
”
said
Syme
sternly
,
“
nor
will
you
break
yours
.
Here
are
your
friends
.
”
The
mass
of
the
anarchists
entered
the
room
heavily
,
with
a
slouching
and
somewhat
weary
gait
;
but
one
little
man
,
with
a
black
beard
and
glasses
—
a
man
somewhat
of
the
type
of
Mr.
Tim
Healy
—
detached
himself
,
and
bustled
forward
with
some
papers
in
his
hand
.
“
Comrade
Gregory
,
”
he
said
,
“
I
suppose
this
man
is
a
delegate
?
”
Gregory
,
taken
by
surprise
,
looked
down
and
muttered
the
name
of
Syme
;
but
Syme
replied
almost
pertly
—
“
I
am
glad
to
see
that
your
gate
is
well
enough
guarded
to
make
it
hard
for
anyone
to
be
here
who
was
not
a
delegate
.
”
The
brow
of
the
little
man
with
the
black
beard
was
,
however
,
still
contracted
with
something
like
suspicion
.
“
What
branch
do
you
represent
?
”
he
asked
sharply
.
“
I
should
hardly
call
it
a
branch
,
”
said
Syme
,
laughing
;
“
I
should
call
it
at
the
very
least
a
root
.
”
“
What
do
you
mean
?
”
“
The
fact
is
,
”
said
Syme
serenely
,
“
the
truth
is
I
am
a
Sabbatarian
.
I
have
been
specially
sent
here
to
see
that
you
show
a
due
observance
of
Sunday
.
”
The
little
man
dropped
one
of
his
papers
,
and
a
flicker
of
fear
went
over
all
the
faces
of
the
group
.
Evidently
the
awful
President
,
whose
name
was
Sunday
,
did
sometimes
send
down
such
irregular
ambassadors
to
such
branch
meetings
.
“
Well
,
comrade
,
”
said
the
man
with
the
papers
after
a
pause
,
“
I
suppose
we’d
better
give
you
a
seat
in
the
meeting
?
”
“
If
you
ask
my
advice
as
a
friend
,
”
said
Syme
with
severe
benevolence
,
“
I
think
you’d
better
.
”
When
Gregory
heard
the
dangerous
dialogue
end
,
with
a
sudden
safety
for
his
rival
,
he
rose
abruptly
and
paced
the
floor
in
painful
thought
.
He
was
,
indeed
,
in
an
agony
of
diplomacy
.
It
was
clear
that
Syme’s
inspired
impudence
was
likely
to
bring
him
out
of
all
merely
accidental
dilemmas
.
Little
was
to
be
hoped
from
them
.
He
could
not
himself
betray
Syme
,
partly
from
honour
,
but
partly
also
because
,
if
he
betrayed
him
and
for
some
reason
failed
to
destroy
him
,
the
Syme
who
escaped
would
be
a
Syme
freed
from
all
obligation
of
secrecy
,
a
Syme
who
would
simply
walk
to
the
nearest
police
station
.
After
all
,
it
was
only
one
night’s
discussion
,
and
only
one
detective
who
would
know
of
it
.
He
would
let
out
as
little
as
possible
of
their
plans
that
night
,
and
then
let
Syme
go
,
and
chance
it
.
He
strode
across
to
the
group
of
anarchists
,
which
was
already
distributing
itself
along
the
benches
.
“
I
think
it
is
time
we
began
,
”
he
said
;
“
the
steam‑tug
is
waiting
on
the
river
already
.
I
move
that
Comrade
Buttons
takes
the
chair
.
”
This
being
approved
by
a
show
of
hands
,
the
little
man
with
the
papers
slipped
into
the
presidential
seat
.
“
Comrades
,
”
he
began
,
as
sharp
as
a
pistol‑shot
,
“
our
meeting
to‑night
is
important
,
though
it
need
not
be
long
.
This
branch
has
always
had
the
honour
of
electing
Thursdays
for
the
Central
European
Council
.
We
have
elected
many
and
splendid
Thursdays
.
We
all
lament
the
sad
decease
of
the
heroic
worker
who
occupied
the
post
until
last
week
.
As
you
know
,
his
services
to
the
cause
were
considerable
.
He
organised
the
great
dynamite
coup
of
Brighton
which
,
under
happier
circumstances
,
ought
to
have
killed
everybody
on
the
pier
.
As
you
also
know
,
his
death
was
as
self-denying
as
his
life
,
for
he
died
through
his
faith
in
a
hygienic
mixture
of
chalk
and
water
as
a
substitute
for
milk
,
which
beverage
he
regarded
as
barbaric
,
and
as
involving
cruelty
to
the
cow
.
Cruelty
,
or
anything
approaching
to
cruelty
,
revolted
him
always
.
But
it
is
not
to
acclaim
his
virtues
that
we
are
met
,
but
for
a
harder
task
.
It
is
difficult
properly
to
praise
his
qualities
,
but
it
is
more
difficult
to
replace
them
.
Upon
you
,
comrades
,
it
devolves
this
evening
to
choose
out
of
the
company
present
the
man
who
shall
be
Thursday
.
If
any
comrade
suggests
a
name
I
will
put
it
to
the
vote
.
If
no
comrade
suggests
a
name
,
I
can
only
tell
myself
that
that
dear
dynamiter
,
who
is
gone
from
us
,
has
carried
into
the
unknowable
abysses
the
last
secret
of
his
virtue
and
his
innocence
.
”
There
was
a
stir
of
almost
inaudible
applause
,
such
as
is
sometimes
heard
in
church
.
Then
a
large
old
man
,
with
a
long
and
venerable
white
beard
,
perhaps
the
only
real
working‑man
present
,
rose
lumberingly
and
said
—
“
I
move
that
Comrade
Gregory
be
elected
Thursday
,
”
and
sat
lumberingly
down
again
.
“
Does
anyone
second
?
”
asked
the
chairman
.
A
little
man
with
a
velvet
coat
and
pointed
beard
seconded
.
“
Before
I
put
the
matter
to
the
vote
,
”
said
the
chairman
,
“
I
will
call
on
Comrade
Gregory
to
make
a
statement
.
”
Gregory
rose
amid
a
great
rumble
of
applause
.
His
face
was
deadly
pale
,
so
that
by
contrast
his
queer
red
hair
looked
almost
scarlet
.
But
he
was
smiling
and
altogether
at
ease
.
He
had
made
up
his
mind
,
and
he
saw
his
best
policy
quite
plain
in
front
of
him
like
a
white
road
.
His
best
chance
was
to
make
a
softened
and
ambiguous
speech
,
such
as
would
leave
on
the
detective’s
mind
the
impression
that
the
anarchist
brotherhood
was
a
very
mild
affair
after
all
.
He
believed
in
his
own
literary
power
,
his
capacity
for
suggesting
fine
shades
and
picking
perfect
words
.
He
thought
that
with
care
he
could
succeed
,
in
spite
of
all
the
people
around
him
,
in
conveying
an
impression
of
the
institution
,
subtly
and
delicately
false
.
Syme
had
once
thought
that
anarchists
,
under
all
their
bravado
,
were
only
playing
the
fool
.
Could
he
not
now
,
in
the
hour
of
peril
,
make
Syme
think
so
again
?
“
Comrades
,
”
began
Gregory
,
in
a
low
but
penetrating
voice
,
“
it
is
not
necessary
for
me
to
tell
you
what
is
my
policy
,
for
it
is
your
policy
also
.
Our
belief
has
been
slandered
,
it
has
been
disfigured
,
it
has
been
utterly
confused
and
concealed
,
but
it
has
never
been
altered
.
Those
who
talk
about
anarchism
and
its
dangers
go
everywhere
and
anywhere
to
get
their
information
,
except
to
us
,
except
to
the
fountain
head
.
They
learn
about
anarchists
from
sixpenny
novels
;
they
learn
about
anarchists
from
tradesmen’s
newspapers
;
they
learn
about
anarchists
from
Ally
Sloper’s
Half‑Holiday
and
the
Sporting
Times
.
They
never
learn
about
anarchists
from
anarchists
.
We
have
no
chance
of
denying
the
mountainous
slanders
which
are
heaped
upon
our
heads
from
one
end
of
Europe
to
another
.
The
man
who
has
always
heard
that
we
are
