A Girl Among the Anarchists Part 5

Short gave vent to an unpleasing laugh. He always seemed to take pleasure at any proof of meanness or cowardice given by his fellows.

Armitage looked pained. "Such things make us long for the Revolution,"

he said. "This rotten society which breeds such people must be swept away. We must neglect no means to that end, and our press is one. So now let's set to work to move the plant and start a new paper, as we seem all agreed to that plan. Who'll go and look for a suitable workshop?"

Short volunteered, but M'Dermott scouted the idea, declaring that the mere sight of him would be enough to frighten any landlord, and this we all, including Short, felt inclined to agree with. At last we decided to fall in with M'Dermott's suggestion that he and I should sally forth together. "You see, my dear," he said with almost paternal benevolence, "you will be taken for my grand-daughter and we shall soften the heart of the most obdurate landlord."

The field of our researches was limited by a few vital considerations.

The rent must not be high. For the present anyhow, the expenses of the paper would have to be defrayed by Armitage and myself. Short had proposed himself as printer and compositor, on the tacit understanding of free board and lodging, and the right to make use of the plant for his own purposes; I was willing to give my time to the material production of the paper, and to contribute to its maintenance to the best of my ability; and Armitage's time and means were being daily more and more absorbed by the propaganda, to the detriment of his practice; but he was not of those who can palter with their conscience. The individual initiative inculcated by Anarchist principles implied individual sacrifices. Another consideration which limited our choice was that the office must be fairly central, and not too far from my home, as, spite of my enthusiasm for Anarchy, I could not wholly neglect household duties. We talked over these points as we walked along, and M'Dermott suggested Lisson Grove, where a recent epidemic of smallpox had been raging, as likely to be a fairly cheap neighbourhood, but after tramping about and getting thoroughly weary, we had to acknowledge that there was nothing for us in that quarter. We were both hungry and tired, and M'Dermott suggested a retreat to a neighbouring Lockhart's. Seated before a more than doubtful cup of tea, in a grimy room, where texts stared at us from the walls, we discussed the situation, and decided to inquire about a workshop which we saw advertised, and which seemed promising. Our destination led us out of the slummy wilderness into which we had strayed, into cleaner and more wholesome quarters, and at last we stopped before some quite imposing-looking premises. "We seem destined to consort with the cabbing trade," I remarked; "the last office was over a mews, this place seems to belong to a carriage-builder." There was, however, no other connection between the unsavoury mews and the aristocratic carriage-yard, whose proprietor, resplendent in side-whiskers and a shiny chimney-pot hat, advanced to meet us, a condescending smile diffusing his smug countenance. I explained to him our object, and he showed us over the shop, which consisted in a large loft, well lighted and fairly suitable, at the back of the premises.

In answer to Mr. White's inquiries, I informed him that I needed it as a printing-office, for a small business I had, and he quite beamed on me, evidently considering me a deserving young person, and expressed the opinion that he had no doubt I should get on in that neighbourhood.

M'Dermott, who was greatly enjoying the fun of the situation, here broke in: "Yes, sir, my grand-daughter deserves success, sir; she's a hardworking girl, is my poor Emily," and here he feigned to wipe away a tear, whilst casting a most mischievous side-glance at me.

"Dear, dear, very affecting, I'm sure," muttered the prosperous carriage-builder.

Everything was soon satisfactorily settled. I gave him my name and address, and that of my brother's Socialist friend as a reference, and we agreed that I should move in on the following Monday morning.

Great was the amus.e.m.e.nt at Slater's Mews at the account of our adventures, given with a few enlargements by M'Dermott. He had an artist's soul, and would never consent to destroy the effect of a tale by slavish subservience to facts.

"Well, I fear he will find he has taken in wolves in sheep's clothing,"

Armitage remarked; "anyhow, I am thankful that matter is settled and that we can get to work without further delay. I met Kosinski, and he has promised to give us a hand with the move. I shall not be able to be here all the time as I have to attend an operation on Monday, but I will put in an hour or two's work in the morning. I suppose I can get in if I come here at five on Monday morning?" he said turning to Short who was "dissing pie," his inseparable clay pipe still firmly set between his yellow and decayed teeth.

"Oh, yes. I shan't be up, but you can get in," the latter surlily remarked. He was evidently no devotee of early hours.

On Monday a hard day's work awaited me. At Slater's Mews I found the poor doctor, who had already been there some two hours, packing up the literature, tying up forms, and occasionally turning to Short for instruction or advice.

The latter, seated on a packing-case, was regaling himself on a bloater and cheesecakes, having disposed of which he took up a flute and played some s.n.a.t.c.hes of music-hall melodies. He seemed quite unconcerned at what took place around him, contenting himself with answering Armitage's questions. Soon after I arrived on the scene Kosinski appeared. It was the first time I had seen him since the memorable evening at Chiswick, and I felt a little nervous in his presence, overcome by a half-guilty fear lest he should think I was merely dallying, not working in true earnest. I was conscious of my own sincerity of purpose, yet feared his mental verdict on my actions, for I now realised that his uncompromising words and scathing denunciation of dilettanteism had had much to do with my recent conduct; more than all Armitage's enthusiastic propagandising, much as I liked, and, indeed, admired the latter. Kosinski shook hands with Armitage and Short. The latter had stepped forward and a.s.sumed an air of unwonted activity, having pulled off his coat and rolled up his shirt sleeves, and there he stood hammering up a form and whistling "It ain't all Lavender"--very appropriate verses, considering the surroundings. The Russian merely recognised my presence with a slight bow, not discourteous, but characterised by none of the doctor's encouraging benevolence; I, however, felt more honoured than snubbed, and worked away with a will.

"Well, I must be going," said Armitage; "it is nearly ten, and at half-past eleven I have an appointment at a patient's house. You will stay, won't you, Kosinski, and help our comrades to move the plant?"

"I will do what I can," replied the Russian. "I do not understand printing, but I will wheel the barrow, and do anything I may be told."

"That's right. Well, good luck to you, comrades. I will try and get round about five. I suppose you will then be at the new place?"

"Oh, yes," I replied, "you will be in time to help us get things ship-shape."

"Well, good-bye, Isabel; good-bye, comrades," and he was off.

For some time we all worked with a will. Kosinski was set to stowing away the literature in packing-cases. Short "locked up" forms and "dissed" pie, and I busied myself over various jobs. M'Dermott had come round, and he stood at my elbow discussing the propaganda and the situation generally. He was much rejoiced at the turn matters were taking on the Continent, and deplored the lukewarmness of English Anarchists. "You cannot have a revolution without revolutionists," was a favourite phrase of his, and he was at no trouble to conceal his opinion of most of the comrades. I was as yet too new to the movement and too enthusiastic to endorse all his expressions, but the little man was congenial to me; his Irish wit made him good company, and there was an air of independent self-reliance about him that appealed to me.

"That Kosinski's a good fellow," he continued. "He knows what Revolution means. Not but what there is good material in England too, but it is _raw_ material, ignorant and apathetic, hoodwinked and bamboozled by the political humbugs."

"Have you known Kosinski long?" I inquired, interrupting him, for I saw he was fairly started on a long tirade.

"Oh, some seven years," he replied. "He was over here in '87 at the time of the unemployed riots; he and I were at the bottom of a lot of that movement, and we should have had all London in revolt had it not been for the palaver and soft-soap of the official labour-leaders. After that he went to America, and has only been back in England some six months."

Our preparations were now well advanced, and M'Dermott and I set out to procure a barrow whereon to transport our belongings.

I had expected on my return to find everything in readiness. Short had spoken as if he would work wonders, and I had hoped that within an hour we should be off. What was my surprise, then, to find that during the half-hour of my absence a change had come o'er the scene. Instead of the noise of the mallet locking up forms, the melodious notes of a flute greeted my ear as I approached the office, and I must confess that my heart sank, though I was not yet prepared for the truth. On entering I found things just as I had left them, not a whit more advanced, but Short was again seated, and opposite him lounged the weak-kneed youth whom I had noted on the occasion of my first group-meeting, Simpkins by name, as I had since found out; between them stood the small hand-press which Short had promised to take to pieces for removal, on the "bed" of which now stood three bottles of ginger-beer, a parcel of repulsive and indigestible-looking pastry, and a packet of tobacco. My look of dismay and surprise was answered by Short, who explained that his friend had come up, bringing with him the wherewithal for this carouse; which statement Simpkins supplemented by the information that he had been occupied that week in "planting" an aunt and possessing himself of his share of the good lady's property.

"My married sister got in first, but father waited his opportunity, and whilst they went out to 'ave a 'alf-pint at the pub round the corner, he got in. They thought themselves mighty clever, for they had locked the door and taken the key, but father got in by the scullery window which they had forgotten to latch, and when they came back they found themselves sold. The guv'nor's a sharp one, 'e is, but I was fly too; 'e always keeps me short, grumbles 'cause I won't let myself be exploited by the capitalists; but I did 'im this time. I 'ad a good old-fashioned nose round whilst the guv'nor left me in charge whilst 'e went for a drink, and I found ten bob the old girl 'ad 'idden away in a broken teapot, so I just pocketed 'em. We planted 'er the day before yesterday; she was insured for twelve quid, an' everything was done 'ansome.

Yesterday I felt awful bad, but to-day I thought I'd come an' see 'ow the paiper was getting on."

"Well, you see we're moving," I said. "If you care to give us a hand you'll be welcome. Come, Short, the barrow's here; let's get the things down."

"Oh, I'm going to have a half-day off," was his cool reply; "I'm tired.

Armitage woke me up at five this morning, and I couldn't get any sleep after he came, he made such a d.a.m.ned noise."

"But surely you're going to help us get this move over; to-morrow you can sleep all day if you like."

"You can do as you like; I'm not going to move," was his only reply, and he calmly filled his pipe and puffed luxuriously. Simpkins giggled feebly; he evidently was wavering as to his proper course, but Short's calm insolence won the day.

I confess that at the moment I was blind to the humour of the situation.

I fancy people with a keen sense of humour are rarely enthusiasts; certainly when I began to see the ludicrous side of much of what I had taken to be the hard earnest of life, my revolutionary ardour cooled.

My indignation was ready to boil over; I could have wept or stamped with annoyance. "Oh, but you _must_ help!" I exclaimed. "You promised. How are we ever to do anything if you go on like this?"

Short merely puffed at his pipe complacently.

For the first time since his arrival Kosinski spoke. I had almost forgotten his presence; he was working quietly, getting things ready, and now he stepped forward.

"The comrade is right," he said; "he does not want to work; leave him alone; we can do very well without him. Let us get off at once. There is enough ready to make a first load, anyhow."

The calm indifference of Kosinski seemed to take some of the starch out of Short, who looked more than foolish as he sat over his ginger-beer, trying to feign interest in the flagging conversation with Simpkins. I was relieved at the turn matters had taken, which threw the ridicule on the other side, and before long we were ready, little M'Dermott having made himself very useful, running actively up and down the ladder laden with parcels. We must have looked a queer procession as we set off. The long stooping figure of Kosinksi, wrapped in his inseparable dark-blue overcoat, his fair hair showing from under his billyc.o.c.k hat, pushing the barrow, heavily laden with type-cases and iron forms, packets of literature and reams of printing paper; I in my shabby black dress and sailor hat, bearing the furled-up banner, and M'Dermott following on behind, carrying with gingerly care a locked-up form of type, the work of poor Armitage, which was in imminent danger of falling to pieces in the middle of the street. We found that quite a crowd of loafers of both s.e.xes, the habitues of the "Myrtle Grove Tavern," had a.s.sembled outside to witness our departure, and, as I never missed an opportunity to spread the light, I distributed among them some hand-bills ent.i.tled "What is Anarchy?" regardless of their decidedly hostile att.i.tude. The London loafer has little wit or imagination, and their comments did not rise above the stale inquiry as to where we kept our bombs, and the equally original advice bestowed upon Kosinksi to get 'is 'air cut. A half-hour's walk brought us to our destination, but our Odyssey was not so soon to end. The man who accompanied the carriage-builder when he showed us over the shop was waiting at the entrance to the yard, and, recognising me, he asked me to step into the office. He had a rather scared appearance, but I did not notice this particularly at the moment, and supposing that Mr. White wanted to give me the keys I told my friends I should be back in a minute. The carriage-builder was awaiting me in the little office where he usually received his fashionable clients. He was still the self-same consequential figure, resplendent in broadcloth and fine linen, but the benevolent smile had vanished from his unctuous features, and he looked nervous and ill at ease.

"I am sorry to say, Miss Meredith," he began, "that I find I am unable to let you the shop. I much regret having caused you inconvenience, but it is quite impossible."

This was a staggerer for me. Everything had been settled. What could have happened?

"What on earth does this mean?" I exclaimed. "Why, Sat.u.r.day evening you called at my house and told me you were satisfied with the references, and that I could move in to-day."

The poor man looked quite scared at my indignation.

"I am very sorry, I a.s.sure you, but I cannot let you the shop," was all he replied.

"But surely you will give me some explanation of this extraordinary behaviour. I am not to be trifled with in this way, and if you will not answer me I will get some of my friends to speak to you."

This last threat seemed quite to overcome him. He looked despairingly at me, and then determined to throw himself on my mercy.

"Well, you see, the fact is I did not quite understand the nature of your business--that is to say, I thought it was a printing business just like any other."

Light dawned upon me. The police had evidently been at work here. I was too new to the revolutionary movement to have foreseen all the difficulties which beset the path of the propagandist.

"And since Sat.u.r.day night you have come to the conclusion that it is an _un_usual printing office?" I inquired somewhat derisively. I could still see in my mind's eye the benevolent smile and patronising condescension with which he had beamed on M'Dermott and me on the occasion of our first meeting.

"You are a sensible person, Miss Meredith," he said, with an almost appealing accent, "and you will, I am sure, agree with me that it would be impossible for me to have revolutionary papers printed on my premises. It would not be fair to my clients; it would interfere with my business success. Of course every one has a right to their opinions, but I had no idea that you were connected with any such party. In fact I had gone out of town, and intended staying away two or three days when yesterday afternoon I received this telegram," and he handed me the doc.u.ment. It was from Scotland Yard, and warned him to return at once as the police had something of importance to communicate.

"Of course I came back," continued the tremulous White. "At first I thought it must be all a mistake, but I was shown a copy of the _Bomb_, and told that that was what you intended printing. Now you must agree that this is not a suitable place for such an office."

"I cannot see," I replied with some warmth, "that it can make any difference to you what I print. I pay you your rent, and we are quits.

Of course if you refuse to give me the keys of the shop I cannot force myself in, but I have reason to think that you will regret your extraordinary conduct."