our and caution that I saw they made an
excellent impression on my audience, and here the chairman intervened,
putting an end to further cross-examination by saying they all had the
utmost confidence in the judgment of Monsieur Paul Ducharme, and the
Paris delegate might advise his friends to be on the lookout for the
London representative within the next three or four days.

I left the meeting and went directly to my room in Soho, without even
taking the trouble to observe whether I was watched or not. There I
stayed all night, and in the morning quitted Soho as Ducharme, with a
gray beard and bowed shoulders, walked west to the Imperial Flats,
took the lift to the top, and, seeing the corridor was clear, let
myself in to my own flat. I departed from my flat promptly at six
o'clock, again as Paul Ducharme, carrying this time a bundle done up
in brown paper under my arm, and proceeded directly to my room in
Soho. Later I took a bus, still carrying my brown paper parcel, and
reached Liverpool Street in ample time for the Continental train. By a
little private arrangement with the guard, I secured a compartment for
myself, although up to the moment the train left the station, I could
not be sure but that I might be compelled to take the trip to the Hook
of Holland after all. If any one had insisted on coming into my
compartment, I should have crossed the North Sea that night. I knew I
should be followed from Soho to the station, and that probably the spy
would go as far as Harwich, and see me on the boat. It was doubtful if
he would cross. I had chosen this route for the reason that we have no
organisation in Holland: the nearest circle is in Brussels, and if
there had been time, the Brussels circle would have been warned to
keep an eye on me. There was, however, no time for a letter, and
anarchists never use the telegraph, especially so far as the Continent
is concerned, unless in cases of the greatest emergency. If they
telegraphed my description to Brussels the chances were it would not
be an anarchist who watched my landing, but a member of the Belgian
police force.

The 8.30 Continental express does not stop between Liverpool Street
and Parkeston Quay, which it is timed to reach three minutes before
ten. This gave me an hour and a half in which to change my apparel.
The garments of the poor old professor I rolled up into a ball one by
one and flung out through the open window, far into the marsh past
which we were