n children in his
hands."

He was silent and even pale for a moment, and then resumed--

"But whenever he gives advice it is always something as startling as
an epigram, and yet as practical as the Bank of England. I said to
him, 'What disguise will hide me from the world? What can I find more
respectable than bishops and majors?' He looked at me with his large but
indecipherable face. 'You want a safe disguise, do you? You want a dress
which will guarantee you harmless; a dress in which no one would ever
look for a bomb?' I nodded. He suddenly lifted his lion's voice. 'Why,
then, dress up as an anarchist, you fool!' he roared so that the room
shook. 'Nobody will ever expect you to do anything dangerous then.' And
he turned his broad back on me without another word. I took his advice,
and have never regretted it. I preached blood and murder to those
women day and night, and--by God!--they would let me wheel their
perambulators."

Syme sat watching him with some respect in his large, blue eyes.

"You took me in," he said. "It is really a smart dodge."

Then after a pause he added--

"What do you call this tremendous President of yours?"

"We generally call him Sunday," replied Gregory with simplicity. "You
see, there are seven members of the Central Anarchist Council, and they
are named after days of the week. He is called Sunday, by some of his
admirers Bloody Sunday. It is curious you should mention the matter,
because the very night you have dropped in (if I may so express it) is
the night on which our London branch, which assembles in this room, has
to elect its own deputy to fill a vacancy in the Council. The gentleman
who has for some time past played, with propriety and general applause,
the difficult part of Thursday, has died quite suddenly. Consequently,
we have called a meeting this very evening to elect a successor."

He got to his feet and strolled across the room with a sort of smiling
embarrassment.

"I feel somehow as if you were my mother, Syme," he continued casually.
"I feel that I can confide anything to you, as you have promised to tell
nobody. In fact, I will confide to you something that I would not say in
so many words to the anarchists who will be coming to the room in about
ten minutes. We shall, of course, go through a form of election; but I
don't mind telling you that it is practically certain what the result
will be." He looked down for a moment modestly. "It is almost a settled
t