It is to be feared that Mr. WALLACE'S views are not entirely shared by the legal profession. As the junior partner in Mowlem & Mowlem confided to our representative: "That's all very fine, but what's to become of _us_? Not a burglar on our books for the last six weeks. Not a confidence man; not a coiner; not a note expert. And they had the opportunity of their lives with the JOHN BRADBURY notes! We shall have to shut up our office, and then what's to become of our clerk? What's to become of our charwoman? I ask you, what's to become of our charwoman's poor old husband dependent on her? No, let's have patriotism in its _right_ place!" An old-established firm of scientific implement merchants showed even more indignation. "We had taken our place in the firing-line in the War on Germany's Trade," they declared. "We had made arrangements for home manufacture to supplant the alien jemmy. No British burglar would need to be equipped with anything but all-British implements, turned out in British factories and giving employment to British workmen only. And now what do we find? The market has gone to pot. Yes, Sir, to pot. And that's the reward for our patriotic efforts!" Opinions of other representative men in the criminological world have reached us in response to telegrams (reply paid):-- Sir ARTHUR CONAN DOYLE: "Ruin stares me in the face." Mr. GERALD DU MAURIER: "Have decided to suppress _Raffles_ for the period of the War." Mr. RAFFLES: "Have decided to suppress GERALD DU MAURIER for the period of the war." Mr. G. K. CHESTERTON: "Have always maintained that patriotism is the curse of the criminal classes. Will contribute ten guineas to National Fund for Indigent Burglars Whose Front Name Is Not William." Crown Prince WILHELM: "Have nothing to give away to the Press." Mr. GEORGE BERNARD SHAW: "My first telegram for three months. To be a criminal needs brains. There are no English criminals." * * * * * Illustration: _Nurse._ "GOODNESS ME! WHAT 'AVE YOU BEEN DOING TO YOUR DOLLS?" _Joan._ "CHARLIE'S KILLED THEM! HE SAID THEY WERE MADE IN GERMANY, AND HOW WERE WE TO KNOW THEY WEREN'T SPIES?" * * * * * WITH HIGH HEART. The long line of red earth twisted away until it was lost in the fringe of a small copse on the left and had dipped behind a hillock on the right. Flat open country stretched ahead, grass lands and fields of stubble, lifeless and deserted. There was no enemy to be seen and not even a puff of smoke to suggest his whereabouts. But the air was full of the booming of heavy guns and the rising eerie shriek of the shrapnel. Behind the line of red earth lay the British, each man with his rifle cuddled lovingly to his shoulder, a useless weapon that yet conveyed a sense of comfort. The shells were bursting with hideous accuracy--sharp flashes of white light, a loud report and then a murderous rain of shrapnel.