"What on earth does this mean?" I exclaimed. "Why, Saturday 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 assure 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 Saturday 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.