r could he
have commanded the means. The 'Tocsin' was savagely hostile, the 'Fiery
Gross.' grew more and more academical, till it was practically an organ
of what is called in Germany _Katheder-Sozialismus_. Those who wrote
for it were quite distinct from the agitators of the street and of the
Socialist halls; men--and women--with a turn for 'advanced' speculation,
with anxiety for style. At length the name of the paper was changed, and
it appeared as the 'Beacon,' adorned with a headpiece by the well-known
artist, Mr. Boscobel. Mutimer glanced through the pages and flung it
aside in scornful disgust.

'I knew what this was coming to,' he said to Adela 'A deal of good
_they_'ll do! You don't find Socialism in drawing rooms. I wonder that
fellow Westlake has the impudence to call himself a Socialist at all,
living in the way he does. Perhaps he thinks he'll be on the safe side
when the Revolution comes. Ha, ha! We shall see.'

The Revolution.... In the meantime the cry was 'Democratic Capitalism.'
That was the name Mutimer gave to his scheme! The 'Fiery Gross' had only
noticed his work in a brief paragraph, a few words of faint and vague
praise. 'Our comrade's noteworthy exertions in the East End.... The gain
to temperance and self-respecting habits which must surely result....'
The 'Beacon,' however, dealt with the movement more fully, and on the
whole in a friendly spirit.

'Damn their patronage!' cried Mutimer.

You should have seen him addressing a crowd collected by chance in
Hackney or Poplar. The slightest encouragement, even one name to
inscribe in the book which he carried about with him, was enough to fire
his eloquence; nay, it was enough to find himself standing on his chair
above the heads of the gathering. His voice had gained in timbre; he
grew more and more perfect in his delivery, like a conscientious actor
who plays night after night in a part that he enjoys. And it was well
that he had this inner support, this _brio_ of the born demagogue, for
often enough he spoke under circumstances which would have damped the
zeal of any other man. The listeners stood with their hands in their
pockets, doubting whether to hear him to the end or to take their wonted
way to the public-house. One moment their eyes would be fixed upon him,
filmy, unintelligent, then they would look at one another with a leer of
cunning, or at best a doubtful grin. Socialism, forsooth! They were
as ready for translation to supernal s