worry."

But Stuttfield did worry. _The Daily Blast_ had the same effect upon
him as a snake has upon a rabbit; it terrified him, yet he could not
run away from it. In fact he became a regular subscriber and continued
so despite some rumours that it was supported financially by the
Rougetanians--rumours which required, and received, a great deal of
explanation.

Then, through the offices of his man-servant, he obtained a copy of
_The Volcano_.

_The Volcano_ appears to be in advance of _The Daily Blast_ in its
ideals, and immensely so in their expression. But here again I assured
Stuttfield that no one took them seriously. "I don't suppose they
take themselves seriously," I assured him. "They want to sell _The
Volcano_, that's all."

"Yes," said Stuttfield, "but they do sell it, and people read it."

"I expect the circulation's about two thousand a week," I said
consolingly. But Stuttfield, as I could see, was not consoled.

I met him at intervals after that, and on each occasion he seemed to
be more obsessed with the notion that the "Reds" would overwhelm us
all shortly.

"Russia is Red," he whispered; he always whispers now for fear of
being overheard by a Red agent, though there was not very much risk of
that in St. James's Street. "And what about India and China?"