over to me, and addressing me in an undertone, with the same ease as if he
had known me all my life, he said, with a twinkle in his eye, jerking his
head in the direction of Short, "There's a rotten product of a decaying
society, eh?" This remark was so unexpected and yet so forcibly true, that
I laughed assent.

"So you're the only ones up here," he continued. "I expected as much when
I heard of the raid on the office. I was up in the North doing a little
bit of peddling round the country, when I read the news, and I thought I'd
come to London to see what was up. What do you think of doing with the
paper anyway? It seems a pity the old _Bomb_ should die. It would
mean the loss of the only revolutionary organ in England."

"Oh, it must not die," I replied, "or at least if it cannot be kept up,
another paper must take its place. Comrade Armitage agrees with me in
thinking that that would be the best plan. You see this place looks
altogether hopeless."

Armitage, who had been engaged in looking over some papers, now joined us
and the conversation became general.

"Well, how did you get on up North?" inquired Short, who seemed to wake
up to a sense of actuality. "How did you hit it off with young Jackson?
Did you find him of much use?"

"Use!" retorted M'Dermott with an infinite depth of scorn in his voice.
"A fat lot of use he was. If it was a matter of putting away the grub, I
can tell you he worked for two, but as to anything else, he made me carry
his pack as well as my own, on the pretext that he had sprained his ankle,
and his only contribution to the firm was a frousy old scrubbing-brush