In a few minutes Madame Combrisson entered the room. She handed me over 10 and a receipt for the pledges, adding that her friend would not be induced to lend more. I handed the sum over to Bonafede. He had now 22 in hand, so that the financial side of the difficulty was solved. Madame Combrisson, however, had news. A neighbour had informed her that Chief Inspector Deveril had been seen in the street, and that, after giving instructions to his two subordinates not to move from their post of observation, he had left, it was supposed, in order to procure a search-warrant. This news filled us with alarm. Almost any minute now the police might claim entrance to the house, and then Matthieu would inevitably be caught. What was to be done? I was told off to look out of a front window from behind a curtain and report on the situation, but only to return with the news that Limpet and O'Brien were both leaning airily on their sticks studying the heavens with imperturbable calm.

Matthieu was growing restless. He walked up and down the small room like a caged beast, nervously clutching at the revolver which he kept in his trouser pocket. Madame Combrisson kept bemoaning her fate, saying that it would be the ruin of her house if the police entered. Bonafede alone remained calm and collected. At last he exclaimed, looking at his watch, "It is now past eleven, in another half-hour the public-houses will open, let us hope that our friends below may turn in to refresh themselves. In that minute Matthieu must escape; we must have everything ready; he had better change his clothes and disguise himself as much as possible. We will leave together; we are both armed, and if the worst comes to the worst we will sell our lives dearly."

"Oh, my poor house, my poor house!" moaned madame, "this business will be the death of us all."

Bonafede turned on her savagely. "This is no time for recriminations,"

he exclaimed. "Sharpen your wits and see if you cannot find some means of getting rid of those spies. You are clever enough when it is a question of serving your own interests."

Madame Combrisson seemed electrified by these words.

"I will try, Comrade, only give me time to think." Next minute, she exclaimed, "How would it do to send down two of the comrades to pick a quarrel in the street? They could start a fight, a crowd will a.s.semble, the detectives will go to see what is up, and you and Matthieu can avail yourselves of the confusion to escape."

"Good!" replied Bonafede, "go and see about it at once. I will help Matthieu to get ready, and you, Isabel, be on the look-out, and let us know when the right moment has come."

I stationed myself behind the curtain at the front parlour window. In a few minutes I saw a young German who lodged in the house rush up the area steps into the street, followed by Combrisson. They were both shouting and gesticulating loudly, and Combrisson seemed to be demanding money which the other refused. A few pa.s.sers-by stopped to listen to the two foreigners, who danced around, growing ever more noisy; but Limpet and O'Brien stood firm. They looked at the combatants, but seemed to consider the matter as a joke, and only crossed over to our side of the way when they saw a crowd begin to a.s.semble. The quarrel between Combrisson and his lodger began to flag when they saw that their object had failed, and the German soon walked off in the direction of Tottenham Court Road. I watched the detectives cross over to their former post of observation, and was just going to inform the comrades of the negative result of this manoeuvre when I saw Inspector Deveril coming down the street. For a second I stood paralysed with apprehension: all was up with my friends! Next moment I had climbed the four flights, and given the dreaded news.

Matthieu rushed to the attic window. It gave on to a wide gutter which ran along several roofs. "This is my only means of escape. I will get into one of these other houses by the skylight, and escape at the front door whilst they are searching here."

"And if any one tries to stop you?" I exclaimed.

"So much the worse for them," he replied, clutching his revolver.

He was already outside the window when Bonafede spoke, advising him to wait a minute whilst we saw what was going on. As soon as the police knocked, he could carry out his plan. To be noticed by them on the roof would be fatal to its success.

At that moment Combrisson rushed in. "I cannot tell what has happened.

Deveril spoke to those two spies and has walked off. The public-house has opened, Limpet has gone inside, and only O'Brien remains on guard."

We all three went downstairs to watch proceedings, leaving Matthieu by the window, ready at a moment's notice to put his desperate project into execution.

Sure enough, all was quiet in the street below; pa.s.sers-by were hurrying home to their Sunday dinners, the smell of which pervaded the street and house, and O'Brien stood at the door of the opposite pub, leaning gracefully on his stick and gazing at the windows of our house. We stood watching for about a quarter of an hour, fully expecting to see the police appear; the room had gradually filled with the lodgers, all on the _qui vive_, and jabbering fluently in foreign tongues. As n.o.body came and all seemed quiet, Bonafede and I returned upstairs to rea.s.sure Matthieu.

In a few minutes we heard a ring at the door.

"It is they!" we exclaimed, and Matthieu leapt to the window, whilst Bonafede rushed to the door, which burst open, giving admittance to a strange-looking figure. The new-comer had the slight build and nervous carriage of a Frenchman, but was got up in the most aggressively British attire. Clean-shaven, with a short bulldog pipe in the corner of his mouth, a billyc.o.c.k hat set rather jauntily on his head, a short, drab-coloured overcoat of horsy cut, black and white check trousers, red-skin riding gloves, square-toed walking shoes, a light cane, and a rose in his b.u.t.tonhole; you would have taken him at first sight for a sporting tipster. Matthieu, who had stopped short at this sudden apparition, and Bonafede, both stood staring in amazement. The new-comer looked at them with a wicked twinkle in his eye, and burst out into a hearty laugh.

"Why, it is you, Sylvestre," the Italian at last said, whilst Matthieu jumped down into the room. "But what on earth have you done to yourself?

I should never have recognised you?"

"Ah! so I look in character, then? If you did not recognise me no wonder that I was able to take in those gaping clodhoppers, fresh from their turnip-fields, in the street below. I have news for you. Just listen,"

but here he broke off, for, looking round the room, he had caught sight of me (I had stood speechless in a corner whilst this scene was enacted). "First though, my dear fellow, I must beg you to introduce me to the lady. The emotions of the moment seem to have made you and Matthieu forget all manners."

Bonafede turned smilingly towards me, and introduced us: "Armand Sylvestre, a French comrade; Isabel Meredith, editor of the _Tocsin_."

The Frenchman made me an elegant and profound bow in strange contrast with his sporting appearance, removing his hat, which he had till then kept on.

"But what has happened to you, Sylvestre?" exclaimed Matthieu. "Your hair has turned purple."

"Oh, for Heaven's sake don't look at my hair. A most awful fate has befallen it. Yesterday I heard from Cotteaux that you intended leaving soon, so I settled to come down here this morning, and thought it would be as well to disguise myself; one never knows, one can sometimes get such a lot of fun out of those heavy-witted, pudding-eating police. So I asked Marie to go into a West End hairdresser's and procure some black hair-dye, as I know my gold locks are well known to our friends below.

She asked for some, explaining that it was for theatricals, and last night I tried it. With what result you see!--and mind I only made up my mind to come out after washing it some dozen times. Now, with a hat on, it's not very noticeable, but if you could have seen it last night; it had turned the real imperial shade of purple! It was a sight for the G.o.ds!"

We all laughed heartily at his adventure, the humour of which was heightened by the mock pathos and tragedy with which he narrated it.

But Matthieu, who was straining his ears to catch the slightest sound downstairs, asked him to proceed with his news.

"_Oh, mais vous saves, mademoiselle, votre pays est tout-a-fait epatant_," he began, turning to me. "As I came down the street I noticed Deveril speaking with those two satellites of his outside the 'Cat and Mouse.' I at once guessed something was up here, and thought I would try and pump them, so I walked into the bar and asked in my best English accent for a whisky and soda, throwing down a half-sovereign to pay for it, and began talking about racing bets with the barman. As I expected, after a few minutes, Limpet entered, asking for a gla.s.s of bitter; he soon got interested in our talk. I was giving tips with the air of a Newmarket jockey, and as he had finished his drink I offered to treat him. He hesitated, saying that he was in a hurry, and I then pumped the whole tale out of him, how he and his comrade were watching this house, where they had reason to know that a dangerous French Anarchist was concealed, and so forth and so on.

"'But,' I said, 'if this is so, why do you not get a warrant to search the house?' And he then explained to me that the inspector had wished so to do, but that the magistrate, spite of his entreaties, had refused to sign the warrant because it was Sunday!! Yes, this is an extraordinary country. Society must be saved, but before everything the Sabbath must not be broken. _C'est delicieux!_ Having gained this information, I politely wished him good day, and walked over to this house. You should have seen the faces of those two men. I expect their mouths are open still."

We all stared at each other at this information. This, then, was the secret of the situation. The English Sunday had saved our comrade!

Bonafede went downstairs to summon the Combrissons and relieve their minds. We had now nearly twenty-four hours before us; it was certain that till nine o'clock on Monday morning the search-warrant would not be signed. In this interval Matthieu must leave the house, but how?

Sylvestre, who evidently looked upon the whole question as a good joke--_une bonne blague_--suggested that the dynamitard should dress up in his sporting attire; he urged that the detectives had seen him enter and could not be surprised at his leaving, and that this would be the best solution of the difficulty. The idea seemed feasible, and it was tried on. Matthieu got into the check trousers and horsy overcoat, but the effect was too ludicrous, and he was the first to laugh at the figure he cut in the looking-gla.s.s. Something else must be found. Madame Combrisson came to the rescue. She reminded us of a Jewish comrade, also a tailor by trade, who was not unlike Matthieu, being slightly hunchbacked. Her idea was to get him round, dress him in the fugitive's clothes, let Bonafede call a cab in an ostentatious style, into which the false Matthieu was to jump and drive off; the detectives would probably follow on their bicycles, and then was our opportunity. Only, how to get this man on to the scene without his advent being noticed by them? For if he were seen to enter, the game was up; his exit would not cause surprise. We were still face to face with the same difficulty, and Matthieu once more began to pace the room like a wild beast in a cage.

Sylvestre broke the silence. "The only way out of the difficulty is to disguise our man. Dress him up as a woman; he will then enter without causing observation."

In a few minutes all was settled. I was to leave with the hand-bag in which I had brought in the jewellery to be p.a.w.ned; but this time it was to contain a dress belonging to Madame Combrisson. With this I was to proceed to the lodging of the Jewish comrade, Yoski, taking care to lose on the way any detective who might be following me. Yoski was to dress himself in the woman's clothes, and return with me to Grafton Street, care being taken that the detectives should notice his entry. He was then to exchange his female attire for Matthieu's clothes and drive off in a cab, as previously arranged, and then Matthieu, in his turn donning the skirt and blouse, was to leave the house on my arm, whilst the police would be rushing after a red-herring. Sylvestre turned a somersault to express his joy, and, slapping Matthieu on the shoulder, said, "Why, before long, _mon vieux_, you will again be treading the flags of Paris, and, let us hope, frightening the bourgeois out of their wits."

By two o'clock I was on my way. When I left the house Deveril was talking with O'Brien over the way; Limpet had disappeared for the time being. The inspector at once noticed my presence, and, calling to a corner-boy lounging at the public-house door, he spoke to him, pointing me out, and this "copper's nark" followed doggedly in my steps. Yoski lived in a turning off the Mile-End Road, but anxious to give no inkling as to my destination, I turned in the opposite direction, and after a lengthy _detour_ stopped at my own door. I stayed indoors nearly an hour, hoping that my attendant's patience would give out, but he showed no signs of moving, time was precious, and I decided to set out once more. This time I walked down the Euston Road to the beginning of Marylebone Road, where I jumped on to a bus going towards Maida Vale.

The youth did likewise, and at the beginning of the Kilburn High Street I descended, making my way up that dreary road. I began to despair of ridding myself of my pursuer. I was miles out of my way, the hours were pa.s.sing, and he still dogged my steps. I trudged along, weary and worried, weighed down with the responsibility of my position. Suddenly my eyes caught sight of a solitary hansom coming slowly towards me, I hurried forward, the youth was some paces behind me on the other side of the road, and before he had time to realise what I was up to I had boarded that hansom and shouted to the cabman, "Five shillings, if you set me down at Baker Street Station in ten minutes," and away we went.

I looked out of the spy window in the back of the cab and saw my "nark"

standing staring in the middle of the road. At Baker Street I took a ticket for the Edgeware Road and there I jumped into a train for Aldgate Station. When I once more found myself in the streets I looked carefully around me and to my relief was able to a.s.sure myself that no one was following me. Taking a circuitous route, for greater precaution, I at last reached my destination.

I seemed to be in a foreign country. Dark-eyed comely women and pretty children, dressed in gay colours, were walking up and down. The shop-signs and advertis.e.m.e.nts were mostly written in Hebrew characters, loud conversation in a foreign language accompanied by vivacious gesticulation, caught the ear. The narrow, dirty street was swarming with inhabitants, the front doors were mostly open, and many people had placed chairs on the doorsteps and pavement and were sitting out, though it would be an euphemism to speak of enjoying the fresh air in such a neighbourhood. The house at which I stopped was a six-roomed "cottage,"

but whilst I stood on the doorstep, waiting to gain admittance, at least fourteen persons pa.s.sed in and out. At last a wizened old woman, scrutinising me suspiciously, answered my inquiries.

"Yoski! yes, he live on the tird floor back, vis his vife and schwester.

Yes, you will find him in."

Yoski was a small, unhealthy-looking man, not much unlike Matthieu, though darker in colouring, and of a weaker type of face. He was a serious, silent, earnest man, a model of solidarity, regularly setting aside his weekly contribution to the Cause out of his meagre earning on which he had to maintain a wife and four children and a young sister.

They all lived in the one room, but one felt that this did not cause them any suffering; they were evidently used to it. The three grown-ups were all at work when I entered, and the children cl.u.s.tered round like inquisitive little animals. I explained briefly my ident.i.ty and the object of my visit, talking English, which was not understood by his female relatives. He nodded gravely, and said: "But I cannot change here; it would cause too much curiosity. I will tell my wife that I must go with you for some work, and I will go into the room of a friend of mine who is out and dress there." He did as he said and we left the room together.

On the landing I handed him the bag. "Is everything here?" he inquired, "hat and all?"

The hat! Who had thought of it? And yet without that it was impossible to go out.

"Cannot you get at your wife's or your sister's?" I inquired.

"Impossible," he replied, "they would never give me a moment's peace till they knew why I wanted it. You might, however, try with Rebecca Wiesmann; she is a comrade and lives two streets farther down. Do not, however, tell her all this matter; make up some story and see if you can manage."

Much doubting my success, I went round to Rebecca's. I had seen her sometimes at meetings, but I felt that she would be surprised at my appearance, and still more at my errand. Still there was nothing for it, the shops were all shut, and so I went round to her. This girl lived alone, having separated from her parents, who were strictly orthodox and intolerant Jews. She was indeed taken aback at seeing me, but did not like to refuse my request. I told her that I was expected at a comrade's house, that I had been followed by detectives and wished to lose sight of them, and she, with the foreign Jews' dread of policemen as omnipotent beings, swallowed the tale and provided me with a showy best hat quite unlike my own. This I donned and left with my own in a paper under my arm, in spite of her pressing offer to keep it for me.

In a few minutes I was knocking at the door Yoski had pointed out to me. I found him ready, carefully shaved of his moustache, and quite transformed in appearance. The hat and veil completed the disguise.

By six o'clock we were in Grafton Street. I was relieved to find that Deveril had left, and that only Limpet and O'Brien were on guard. They took a good stare at us as we pa.s.sed them by.

Combrisson himself opened to us. "Oh, here you are at last. We began to fear you would never come. It has been as much as we could do to prevent Matthieu from spoiling everything by making a rush for it. Come in, there is not a moment to lose. Deveril may be back any minute, and he's not so easily gulled as those two mugs."

We found Matthieu in a state of great nervous excitement. The long, anxious hours of waiting had told on him. A nervous twitch convulsed his mouth. He jumped spasmodically to his feet as we entered the room. "At last," exclaimed Bonafede, with a sigh of relief on seeing us. "Now, Matthieu," he said, laying a hand encouragingly on the man's shoulder, "there is no time to be lost. Isabel will go downstairs whilst you two exchange clothes. As soon as you are ready I will fetch the cabs. Be courageous, and, above all, calm, and in half-an-hour all will be over."

I went downstairs with Madame Combrisson, and we paced nervously up and down the front parlour. Every other minute one of us went to look out of the window. It was nearly dark. The street lamps were lighting up, and still the two detectives watched on the other side of the road.

"Where is Sylvestre?" I at last inquired, to break the tense silence.