4

"It's a queer thing," said Mr. Montague Abrahams, the manager of Keen and Battle, who did most of the printing for the Popular Socialist Party in those days; "I have had three distinct orders for tickets for this Strictly Private Meeting of the Party, all on the Party paper and all signed by names I know. There's that Mr. Frobisher, who's conducted their meetings before. I suppose he's all O.K. He wants three hundred tickets sent to Headquarters at number sixteen. Perfectly in order. Yes. In addition we get a private order from Lord Horatio himself for a hundred to be sent to him 'Personal' at number seventeen. Good. But then here comes an order from Mr. Bodisham who was in charge last year, and he wants a hundred and fifty to go to this address in Camborne Square. Now that hall won't hold much more than four hundred people. I suppose it's all right so far as we are concerned, but—It's funny. I've had an idea of O.K.–ing all these orders with Headquarters. And yet I've got a sort of feeling that maybe I would be butting in—"

"The money's all right?" said Mrs. Abrahams.

"Well, the only point there might be a doubt about is about that Camborne Square part of the order. But they've paid that already. Mr. Bodisham called. I saw him. Quiet–looking young gentleman. Round–shouldered—

"I wouldn't interfere," said Mrs. Abrahams after reflection. "There's wheels within wheels."

"You keep your fingers out of the wheels, Monty," said Mrs. Abrahams.

Mr. Abrahams went on with his supper. "This political printing is very interesting work," he said.

"Interested is all very well," said Mrs. Abrahams, "but don't get excited about it."

Mr. Abrahams said no more until his supper was done. Then he said, almost as though he soliloquised:

"Maybe I'll just go round and have a look at Canton Hall on the night. Maybe they'll overflow a bit."