the coincidence that on
the night of every raid some member there present was secretly
arrested in another quarter of Paris, and perhaps given a free passage
to Russia, never seemed to awaken suspicion in the minds of the
conspirators.

I think the London anarchists' method is much better, and I have ever
considered the English nihilist the most dangerous of this fraternity,
for he is cool-headed and not carried away by his own enthusiasm, and
consequently rarely carried away by his own police. The authorities of
London meet no opposition in making a raid. They find a well-lighted
room containing a more or less shabby coterie playing cards at cheap
pine tables. There is no money visible, and, indeed, very little coin
would be brought to light if the whole party were searched; so the
police are unable to convict the players under the Gambling Act.
Besides, it is difficult in any case to obtain a conviction under the
Gambling Act, because the accused has the sympathy of the whole
country with him. It has always been to me one of the anomalies of the
English nature that a magistrate can keep a straight face while he
fines some poor wretch for gambling, knowing that next race day (if
the court is not sitting) the magistrate himself, in correct sporting
costume, with binoculars hanging at his hip, will be on the lawn by
the course backing his favourite horse.

After my reception at the anarchists' club of Paris, I remained seated
unobtrusively on a bench waiting until routine business was finished,
after which I expected an introduction to the man selected to throw
the bomb. I am a very sensitive person, and sitting there quietly I
became aware that I was being scrutinised with more than ordinary
intensity by someone, which gave me a feeling of uneasiness. At last,
in the semi-obscurity opposite me I saw a pair of eyes as luminous as
those of a tiger peering fixedly at me. I returned the stare with such
composure as I could bring to my aid, and the man, as if fascinated by
a look as steady as his own, leaned forward, and came more and more
into the circle of light.

Then I received a shock which it required my utmost self-control to
conceal. The face, haggard and drawn, was none other than that of
Adolph Simard, who had been my second assistant in the Secret Service
of France during my last year in office. He was a most capable and
rising young man at that time, and, of course, he knew me well. Had
he, then, penetrated m