Distribution
is, of course, the main difficulty; it necessitates mutual trust
between various confederates. Bob Hewett still kept to his daily
work, but gradually he was being drawn into alliance with an
increasing number of men who scorned the yoke of a recognised
occupation. His face, his clothing, his speech, all told whither he
was tending, had one but the experience necessary for the noting of
such points. Bob did not find his life particularly pleasant; he was
in perpetual fear; many a time he said to himself that he would turn
back. Impossible to do so; for a thousand reasons impossible; yet he
still believed that the choice lay with him.
His colloquy with Jack only lasted a few minutes, then he walked
homewards, crossing the Metropolitan Meat-market, going up St.
John's Lane, beneath St. John's Arch, thence to Rosoman Street and
Merlin Place, where at present he lived. All the way he pondered
Clem's words. Already their import had become familiar enough to
lose that first terribleness. Of course he should never take up the
proposal seriously; no, no, that was going a bit too far; but
suppose Clem's husband were really contriving this plot on his own
account? Likely, very likely; but he'd be a clever fellow if he
managed such a thing in a way that did not immediately subject him
to suspicion.
Pages:
498
499
500
501
502
503
504
505
506
507
508
509
510
511
512
513
514
515
516
517
518
519
520
521
522