_Absit omen!_

* * * * *

THE CONSPIRATORS.

II.

MY DEAR CHARLES,--The Third International is not a Rugby football match.
It is a corporation of thrusters whose prospectus announces that it will
very shortly have your blood, having first acquired exclusive rights in
your money. Have you two acres and a cow? Have you seven pounds three
and threepence in the Post-Office Savings Bank? Have you any blood? Very
well, then; THIS CONCERNS YOU.

There was a meeting of shareholders in Moscow as recently as July last.
The Chairman said: "Gentlemen--I beg your pardon, Comrades,--I am happy
to be able to report promising developments. Our main enterprise in
Russia, for technical reasons with which I will not now trouble you, is
not for the moment profit-producing; but we have been able to promote
some successful ventures abroad. In all parts of the civilised
world--and Ireland--we may anticipate a distribution of assets in the
near future." And among those assets to be parcelled out are, I may say,
your acres, your cow, your savings and yourself.

There followed a meeting of the Executive Committee (I wish they would
avoid that tactless word "executive," don't you?). Simple and brisk
instructions were drafted for foreign agents, bidding them get on with
it and not spare themselves, or in any case not spare anyone else. These