profit-sharing, and the like; and that the leaders of the sect are dangerous to the last degree.  Such a leader you now see before you.  Now I must tell you that these Socialist or Co-operationist incendiaries are banded together into three principal societies, and that the prisoner at the bar belongs to one if not two of these, and is striving, hitherto in vain, for admittance into the third and most dangerous.  The Federationist League and the International Federation, to one or both of which this man belongs, are dangerous and malevolent associations; but they do not apply so strict a test of membership as the third body, the Fabian Democratic Parliamentary League, which exacts from every applicant a proof of some special deed of ferocity before admission, the most guilty of their champions veiling their crimes under the specious pretexts of vegetarianism, the scientific investigation of supernatural phenomena, vulgarly called ghost-catching, political economy, and other occult and dull studies.  But though not yet admitted a neophyte of this body, the prisoner has taken one necessary step towards initiation, in learning the special language spoken at all the meetings of these incendiaries:  for this body differs from the other two in using a sort of cant language or thieves’ Latin, so as to prevent their deliberations from becoming known outside their unholy brotherhood.  Examples of this will be given you by the witnesses, which I will ask you to note carefully as indications of the dangerous and widespread nature of the conspiracy.  I call Constable Potlegoff.

[CONSTABLE POTLEGOFF sworn.

Mr. H.  Have you seen the prisoner before?

Pot.  Yes.

Mr. H.  Where?

Pot.  At Beadon Road, Hammersmith.

Mr. H.  What was he doing there?

Pot.  He was standing on a stool surrounded by a dense crowd.

Mr. H.  What else?

Pot.  He was speaking to them in a loud tone of voice.

Mr. H.  You say it was a dense crowd:  how dense?  Would it have been easy for any one to pass through the crowd?

Pot.  It would have been impossible.  I could not have got anywhere near him without using my truncheon—­which I have a right to do.

Mr. H.  Is Beadon Road a frequented thoroughfare?

Pot.  Very much so, especially on a Sunday morning.

Mr. H.  Could you hear what he said?

Pot.  I could and I did.  I made notes of what he said.

Mr. H.  Can you repeat anything he said?

Pot.  I can.  He urged the crowd to disembowel all the inhabitants of London. (Sensation.)

Mr. H.  Can you remember the exact words he used?

Pot.  I can.  He said, “Those of this capital should have no bowels.  You workers must see to having this done.”