The midland journal. (Rising Sun, Md.) 1885-1947, 1906-11-30
THE ANARCHIST
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George Edward Cruther was wait
ing for the Foreign Potertate.
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 a complete surprise for
the Potentate.
The thing was arranged to ttka
place at the end of Charing Cross
road, just outside the National Po:-
trait Gallery. George Edward Cruther
had been on the spot two good hours
already, to make sure OLA favorable
position. This he had chosen by the
side of one of the trees at the edge OF
the pavement, because it was impor-
tant that he should not get a chance
knock over his left breast pocket from
a FESTIVE neighbor in the crowd.
Also something warned him that ne
might feel little queer, and -ne lit
tie metal railing round the trees
would be good to hold en- by. He had
not eaten since drawing the marked
slip from Etzel's hat the Gay before.
They had forced food upon him, but
he could touch nothing. And he had
not slept At this moment he was
under the influence of spirits. lie
had been slipping all the morning, and
a laHge flask, half-full was i'll 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
fuddled. His brain was clear and ac-
tive-too active.
If only he could dull that brain!
Keen and rapid as never before, 1t
raced from one thing to another,
Not for long time had he given a
thought to his childhood-the misery
and blows and hatred, the harsh men
ace of the family religion that had
haunted his mind for 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
How he had wept when the day
came for returning. He had been the
last to enter the little room behind
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. Bit he was IN
time The pale faces had turned Gag
erly to the door as he entered; here
was another chance for each to escape
the lot.
And he had sat and heard the fierce
talk of the Russian comrade, the
small thick-set woman with the broad,
fiat face and eyes too wide apart, who
poured out her curious English in a
burning flood against The man he had
to destroy, her shabby 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
this!
After the drawing she had elnbrac-
ed him with tears, and he, as an Eng
iishman, had felt verV foolish. Her
knife, he knew, would be the first to
find his heart if he failel them for
lack of courage. He remembered a
tall, strong man in a 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 salve his
conscience.
Then the man, saying nothing, had
put him, too weak to walk, in the
car and taken him to the worknouse
infirmary some miles away, and had
there made great fuss because of
the delay and churllshness with which
the application for admlttance vas
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 it and weep;
but he had cursed aim feehly again
and turned his head away.
Afterward he had been thankful to
have had that strength, and had of
ten boosted of it. Bur somehow the
recollection was always a discomfort
Picture after picture, vivid and burn
ing before him. And so it had been
all through the night