“Possibly. The police are always accused of being oppressors or accomplices,” continues the minister. “This person is known to them as ‘Wet Whistle,’ because he has exaggerated views of the medicinal value of stimulants. This victim came again in collision with the brute force of the police early this morning, and you were present.” Bertram is silent, conscious that the episode is not heroic. “Mr. Frederic Hopper does not interest me in the least,” says Stanhope, with culpable heartlessness; “but it seems you used very singular language to the constables in the Park; and when the man was brought before the Westminster police-court he gave your name as that of the person who had indoctrinated him with subversive views, and it seems that you admitted having done so to the constables in Hyde Park, and stated that you deserved arrest more than did this man Hopper. The police, of course, reported all that you said at headquarters; and you are likely to be very seriously annoyed about this matter. It is very dangerous to play at anarchism in these days----” “If any one is to blame, it is I rather than Hopper; but there is no question of anarchism.” “I should certainly consider you the more to blame of the two. A magistrate would take the same view. The Chief Commissioner is of opinion that you ought to have been arrested with Hopper, since he places all the blame of the subversive principles which he had been delivering in public upon you.” Bertram does not reply. “He states that you had repeatedly wanted him to place explosives in public buildings, and that you had promised him the run of the cellars of Buckingham Palace, if he would throw a hand grenade into the royal carriage as the Queen drives from Paddington Station next Monday.” Bertram smiles faintly. “Are you sure that these vivid romances are not composed in Scotland Yard?” Sir Henry is thoroughly annoyed. “No, sir. Scotland Yard has too many real tragedies to deal with to have time or patience to compose mock melodramas. The man Hopper said this, and much more, inculpating you as an anarchist. All this might have passed as a drunken ranter’s ravings, but unfortunately there were your published opinions in that organ of yours, the _Age to Come_. The magistrate, Mr. Adeane, being acquainted with these, thought the matter serious enough to communicate with me, whilst he committed the fellow for seven days. Mr. Adeane was justly of opinion that if you will incite persons to violent and nefarious acts, your social rank and intellectual culture ought not to save you from punishment.” “Certainly they ought not.” “Then you do not admit holding such opinions?” “No; I am altogether opposed to force; to force of any kind.” “Then your _protégé_ lied?” “If he used such expressions, yes.”