"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 document. 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."

"Is that a threat?" inquired White, growing visibly paler, and glancing
nervously towards the door.

"No, it is only the expression of a personal opinion," I replied. At this
moment the door opened, and M'Dermott appeared.

"Well, are you coming with the keys? We are getting tired of waiting," he
inquired.