h regard to the Obscurer. The editors were a sort of
marionettes who danced as Sweater and Grinder pulled the strings.

'I wonder how Dr Weakling will take it?' remarked Rushton.

'That's the very thing I was just thinkin' about,' cried Didlum. 'Don't
you think it would be a good plan if we could arrange to 'ave somebody
took bad--you know, fall down in a fit or something in the street just
outside the Town 'All just before the matter is brought forward in the
Council, and then 'ave someone to come and call 'im out to attend to
the party wot's ill, and keep 'im out till the business is done.'

'Yes, that's a capital idear,' said Grinder thoughtfully. 'But who
could we get to 'ave the fit? It would 'ave to be someone we could
trust, you know.'

''Ow about Rushton? You wouldn't mind doin' it, would yer?' inquired
Didlum.

'I should strongly object,' said Rushton haughtily. He regarded the
suggestion that he should act such an undignified part, as a kind of
sacrilege.

'Then I'll do it meself if necessary,' said Didlum. 'I'm not proud
when there's money to be made; anything for an honest living.'

'Well, I think we're all agreed, so far,' remarked Sweater. The others
signified assent.

'And I think we all deserve a drink,' the Chief continued, producing a
decanter and a box of cigars from a cupboard by the side of his desk.
'Pass that water bottle from behind you, Didlum.'

'I suppose nobody won't be comin' in?' said the latter, anxiously. 'I'm
a teetotaler, you know.'

'Oh, it's all right,' said Sweater, taking four glasses out of the
cupboard and pouring out the whisky. 'I've given orders that we're not
to be disturbed for anyone. Say when.'

'Well, 'ere's success to Socialism,' cried Grinder, raising his glass,
and taking a big drink.

'Amen--'ear, 'ear, I mean,' said Didlum, hastily correcting himself.

'Wot I likes about this 'ere business is that we're not only doin'
ourselves a bit of good,' continued Grinder with a laugh, 'we're not
only doin' ourselves a bit of good, but we're likewise doin' the
Socialists a lot of 'arm. When the ratepayers 'ave bought the Works,
and they begins to kick up a row because they're losin' money over
it--we can tell 'em that it's Socialism! And then they'll say that if
that's Socialism they don't want no more of it.'

The other brigands laughed gleefully, and some of Didlum's whisky went
down the wrong way and nearly sent him into a fit.

'You might as wel