spirited enough, with
business-like zeal, and if you are borough councillor you may be proud
of the nice new public baths which you have been instrumental in
presenting to the community. But the ordinary man in the street no more
cares for Kilburn than he does for Highgate. He would move from one to
the other without a pang. For neither's glory would he shed a drop of
his blood. Only at election times does it occur to him that he is one
of a special brotherhood, isolated from the rest of London; and even
then he regards the constituency as a convention defining geographical
limits for the momentary range of his political passions. So that the
day when an electric thrill ran through the whole of Hickney Heath was
a rare one in its uninspiring annals.

The dramatic had happened, touching the most sluggish imaginations. The
Liberal candidate for Parliament, a respected Borough Councillor, a
notorious Evangelical preacher, had publicly confessed himself an
ex-convict. Every newspaper in London--and for the matter of that,
every newspaper in Great Britain--rang with the story, and every man,
woman and child in Hickney Heath read feverishly every newspaper,
morning and evening, they could lay their hands on. Also, every man,
woman and child in Hickney Heath asked his neighbour for further
details. All who could leave desk and shop or factory poured into the
streets to learn the latest, tidings. Around the various polling
stations the crowd was thickest. Those electors who had been present at
Silas Finn's meeting, the night before, told the story at first-hand to
eager groups. Rumours of every sort spread through the mob. The man who
had put the famous question was an agent of the Tories. It was a smart
party move. Silas Finn had all the time been leading a double life.
Depravities without number were laid to his charge. Even now the police
were inquiring into his connection with certain burglaries that had
taken place in the neighbourhood. And where was he that day? Who had
seen him? He was at home drunk. He had committed suicide. Even if he
hadn't, and was elected, he would not be allowed to take his seat in
Parliament.

On the other hand, those in whose Radical bosoms burned fierce hatred
for the Tories, spoke loud in condemnation of their cowardly tactics.
There was considerable free-fighting in the ordinarily dismal and
decorous streets of Hickney Heath. Noisy acclamations hailed the
automobiles, carriages and waggonett