Adventures of Bindle. Jenkins Herbert George

did the Black and White Raiders find sympathy or assistance. Two of the leaders of the Suffragette Movement, who happened to be passing down Whitehall, were attracted by the crowd. On learning what had happened, and seeing the plight of the demonstrators, they continued on their way.

      "This is war-time," one of them remarked to the other, "and they're disobeying the rules of the Association." With this they were left to their fate.

      Some made for the Tube, others for the District Railway, whilst two sought out a tea-shop and demanded washing facilities; but were refused. The railway-stations were their one source of hope. For the next three hours passengers travelling to Wimbledon were astonished to see entering the train forlorn and dishevelled women, whose faces were rendered hideous by smears of black, and whose white frocks, limp and crumpled, looked as if they had been used to clean machinery.

      "A pleasant little afternoon's treat for you, sir," remarked Bindle to the inspector, when the last of the raiders had disappeared. "Mr. John seemed to enjoy it." Bindle indicated the first-floor window of Number 110, with a jerk of his thumb.

      "Was that your doing?" enquired the inspector.

      "Well," replied Bindle, "it was an' it wasn't," and he explained how it had all come about.

      "And what am I goin' to do with this 'ere van?" he queried.

      "Better run it round to 'the Yard,' then you can take home the horses," replied the inspector.

      "Right-o!" said Bindle.

      "By the way," added the inspector, "I'm coming round myself. I should like you to see Chief-Inspector Gunny."

      Bindle nodded cheerily. "'Ullo, Tippy!" he cried, "knocked you down, didn't they?"

      Tippitt grinned, he had thoroughly enjoyed the entertainment and bore no malice.

      "That's why you got the watering-can, mate?" he remarked.

      Bindle surveyed him with mock admiration.

      "Now ain't you clever," he remarked. "Fancy you a-seein' that. There ain't no spots on you, Tippy;" whereat Tippitt grinned again modestly.

      That afternoon Bindle was introduced to the Famous Chief-Inspector Gunny of Scotland Yard, who, for years previously, had been the head of the department dealing with the suffragist demonstrations. He was a genial, large-hearted man, who had earned the respect, almost the liking of those whose official enemy he was. When he heard Bindle's story, he roared with laughter, and insisted that Bindle should himself tell about the Black and White Raiders to the Deputy-Commissioner and the Chief Constable. It was nearly four o'clock when Bindle left Scotland Yard, smoking a big cigar with which the Deputy-Commissioner had presented him.

      Chief-Inspector Gunny's last words had been, "Well, Bindle, you've done us a great service. If at any time I can help you, let me know."

      "Now I wonder wot 'e meant by that," murmured Bindle to himself. "Does it mean that I can 'ave a little flutter at bigamy, or that I can break 'Earty's bloomin' 'ead and not get pinched for it. Still," he remarked cheerfully, "it's been an 'appy day, a very 'appy day," and he turned in at The Feathers and ordered "somethink to wet this 'ere cigar."

      CHAPTER III

      THE AIR-RAID

I

      "There wasn't no 'ome life in England until the Kayser started a-droppin' bombs in people's back-yards," remarked Bindle oracularly. "Funny thing," he continued, "'ow everybody seemed to find out 'ow fond they was of settin' at 'ome because they was afraid o' goin' out."

      Mr. Hearty looked at Mr. Gupperduck and Mr. Gupperduck looked at Mrs. Bindle. They required time in which to assimilate so profound an utterance.

      Mr. Gupperduck had firmly established himself in the good graces of Mr. Hearty and the leaders of the Alton Road Chapel. He was a constant visitor at the Heartys', especially at meal times, and at the chapel he prayed with great fervour, beating all records as far as endurance was concerned.

      "I don't agree with you," remarked Mr. Gupperduck at length, "I do not agree with you. The Scriptures say, 'Every man to his family.'"

      Mr. Hearty looked gratefully at his guest. It was pleasant to find Bindle controverted.

      "You know, Alf, you never been so much at 'ome," wheezed Mrs. Hearty, hitting her chest remorselessly. "You never go out on moonlight nights."

      "You trust 'im," said Bindle. "'Earty an' the moon ain't never out together."

      "We are told to take cover," said Mr. Hearty with dignity.

      "An' wot about us pore fellers wot 'as to be out in it all?" demanded Bindle, looking down at his special constable's uniform.

      "You should commend yourself to God," said Mr. Gupperduck piously. "He that putteth his trust in Him shall not be afraid."

      "Ain't you afraid then when there's a raid on?" demanded Bindle.

      "I have no fear of earthly things," replied Mr. Gupperduck, lifting his eyes to the ceiling.

      "'E's all Gupperduck an' camelflage, ain't 'e, Millikins?" whispered Bindle to his niece. Then aloud he said: "Well, Mrs. B. ain't like you! She's afraid like all the rest of us. I don't believe much in coves wot say they ain't afraid. You ask the boys back from France. You don't 'ear them a-sayin' they ain't afraid. They knows too much for that."

      "There is One above who watches over us all, Joseph," said Mr. Hearty, emboldened to unaccustomed temerity by the presence of Mr. Gupperduck.

      "Mr. Bindle," said Mr. Gupperduck, "our lives and our happiness are in God's hands, wherefore should we feel afraid?"

      "Well, well!" remarked Bindle, with resignation, "you an' 'Earty beat me when it comes to pluck. When I'm out with all them guns a-goin', an' bombs a-droppin' about, I'd sooner be somewhere else, an' I ain't a-goin' to say different. P'raps it's because I'm an 'eathen."

      "The hour of repentance should not be deferred," said Mr. Gupperduck. "It is not too late even now."

      "It's no good," said Bindle decisively. "I should never be able to feel as brave as wot you are when there's a raid on."

      "'Oh ye of little faith!'" murmured Mr. Gupperduck mournfully.

      "Think of Daniel in the lions' den," said Mrs. Bindle. "And Jonah in the – er – interior of the whale," added Mr. Hearty with great delicacy.

      "No," remarked Bindle, shaking his head with conviction, "I wasn't made for lions, or whales. I suppose I'm a bit of a coward."

      "I don't feel brave when there's a raid, Uncle Joe," said Millie Hearty loyally. She had been a silent listener. "And mother isn't either, are you, mums?" she turned to Mrs. Hearty.

      "It's my breath," responded Mrs. Hearty, patting her ample bosom. "It gets me here."

      "That's because you don't go to chapel, Martha," said Bindle. "If you was to turn up there three times on Sundays you'd be as brave as wot Mr. Gupperduck is. Ain't that so?" he enquired, turning to Mr. Gupperduck.

      "You're always sneering at the chapel," broke in Mrs. Bindle, without giving the lodger time to reply. "It doesn't do us any harm, whatever you may think."

      "That's jest where you're wrong, Mrs. B.," remarked Bindle, settling himself down for a controversy. "I ain't got nothink to say against the chapel, if they'd only let you set quiet; but it's such an up an' down sort o' life. When you ain't kneelin' down a-askin' to be saved from wot you know you deserves, or kept from doin' wot you're nuts on doin', you're a-standin' up asingin' 'ymns about all sorts of uncomfortable things wot you says you 'opes to find in 'eaven."

      "You have a jaundiced view of religion, Mr. Bindle," said Mr. Gupperduck ponderously. "A jaundiced view," he repeated, pleased with the phrase.

      "'Ave I really?" enquired Bindle anxiously. "I 'ope it ain't catchin'. No," he continued meditatively, "I wasn't meant for chapels. I seem to be able to think best about 'eaven when I'm settin' smokin' after supper, with Mrs. B. a-bangin' at the stove to remind me that I ain't there yet."

      "Wot does me," he continued, "is that I never yet see any of your chapel coves 'appier for all your singin' an' prayin'. Why