Manchester Democrat. [volume] (Manchester, Iowa) 1875-1930, 1906-12-12
THE ANARCHIST
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George Edward Cruther was wait
ing for the Foreign Poteptate.
He had no appointment. The foreign
potentate had never heard of him.
Comrade Cruther had little to do with
monarchs, and desired to have less.
1t was to be complete surprise for
the Potentate.
The thing was arranged to ttka
place at the end OF Charing Cross
road. just outside the National POI
trait Gallery. George Edward Cruther
had been on the spot two good hours
already, to make sure of favorable
position. This he had chosen by the
side of one of the trees at the edge of
the pavement, because 1t was impor-
tant that he should not get chance
knock over his left breast pocket from
FESTIVE neighbor in the crowd.
Also something warned him that he
might feel little queer. and the lit
tie metal railing round the trees
would be good to hold On by. He had
not eaten since drawing the marked
slip from Etzel's hat the day before.
They had forced food upon him, but
he could touch nothing And he hWL
not slept. At this moment he was
under the influence of spirits. lie
had been slipping all the morning, and
large flask, half-full, was Ill his side
pocket; his heart, spurred to con-
tinual gallop, pounded furiously
against his ribs, and he felt warm and
flushed. But Comrade Cruther, al
though he was not a drinking man,
and had never swallowed so much at
one time before, was certainly not
flddled. His brain was clear and ac-
tive-too active.
II only he could dull that brain!
Keen and rapid as never before, 1t
raced from one thing to another.
Not for a long time had he given a
thought to his childhcod-the misery
and blows and hatred, the harsh men
ace of the family religion that had
haunted his mind for u few wretched
years; and the days of Joy and free
dom now and then spent with com
panions and kind hearts far away
from the slum. "a.
How he had wept when the day
came for returning. Ha had been the
last to enter the little room behiad
the filthy tailor's shop last night. He
had cursed at the block on the line
that had delayed him. Had it kept him
out another half-hour they would have
drawn without him. Bat he Mas IN
time. The pale faces had turpel Gag
erly to the door as he entered; here
was another chance for e3ck to escape
the lot
And he had sat and heard the fierce
talk of the Russian comrade, the
small, thick-sets woman with the broad
fiat face and eyes too wide apart, who
poured out her curious English in a
burning flood against tho man he had
to destroy, her ,habby dress ton
open at the collar, one broad arm
thrown forward on the grimy table,
with tapping knuckles. This com
rade he most admired and feared. Ger
tainly she would not have felt like
thisl
After the drawing she had embrac-
ell him with tears, and he, as all Eng
1ishman, had felt very foolish. Her
knife, he knew, would be the first to
find bis heart If he failel them for
lack Of courage. He remembered a
tall, strong man in motor car who
had stopped on seeing him lying by
the road faint with hunger. The man
had alighted and given him red wine
and food Of a sort he had never tasted
and he had cursed the man and told
him such acts would never salye his
conscience
Then the man, saying nothing, had
put him, too weak to walk, in the
car and taken him to tho worknouse
infirmary some miles away, and had
there made a great fuss because Of
the delay and churllshness with which
the application for admlttance aas
treated He had felt that he could
have died for that man, and when the
man held out his hand in farewell,
he had longed to seize 1t and weep;
but he had cursed him feehly again
and turned his head away.
Afterward he had been thankful to
have had that strength, and had Of
ten boosted of 1t. But somehow the
recollection was always discomfort.
Picture after picture, vivid and burn
ing before him. And so IL had been
all through the night.
II only he could dull that brain!
Sebastian was fool. He, the man
of science, could he not have given
something that would keep mans
mind calm?
Afterward! How many thousand
times had he pictured that to him.
self In the darkness Of last night.
The deed done. how the thousands
OF heads would turn upon him, howl
ing for blood. "Cowardly assassin"
the papers would call him with one
voice. Cowardly! He looked round
on the people, now pressing thickly
about him; an eager, hilarious crowd.
No doubt the police lining the route
would try to get to him; but he knew
something of London :nobs. There
was no strength in him; he would
go down at the first blow, and then
But SO long as the Cause went
on! He would at least have added a
heavy weight to tho load of terror
that was going to crush uniformed
tyranny and robbery out of exist
ence.
Either society is right" mlrmured
Comrade Gruther with unctuous en-
p' asis. "and we must submit to its
laws, or society is wrong. in which
case We must aght 1t; and tight 1t