now that the houndsditch affair has been laid aside by the man in the street and it is once more possible for a bearded englishman to tread the pavements of london without reproach, i may perhaps venture to give some account of a secret society with which i have been intimately connected, without earning the reputation of a monger of sensations.

some four or five years ago i met a picturesque journalist who told me that he had once been at pains to worm out the secrets of an anarchist society in london, and had incorporated his discoveries in a volume so marvellous that no editor or publisher would believe it. i only remember one incident of all his wonderful adventures. he was led by an anarchist comrade into a small shop in the strand, thence into a p. 153cellar, and thence along a series of passages and caverns that ultimately brought him out in seven dials! even mr. chesterton’s detective-anarchists in the “man who was thursday” could not beat this. for my part i shall not try, but shall content myself with a straightforward narration of facts.

i should think it was about last july that i first noticed that the children of my neighbourhood, with whom i have some small acquaintance, were endeavouring to assume a sinister aspect, and were wearing a cryptic button with a marked air of secrecy. when i came out for my morning walk the front garden would be animated with partially concealed children like the park in mr. kipling’s “they,” and though i have long realised that suburban front gardens do not lend themselves to the higher horticulture, i felt the natural embarrassment of the man who does not know whether he is expected to expel trespassers or welcome bashful visitors. in the circumstances i affected not to notice that the lilac was murmurous with ill-suppressed laughter and that the laurels were waving tumultuously; but it was p. 154hardly reassuring to discover on my return that a large red cross and the letters t. s. had been chalked on my gate by an unknown hand. for a moment i wondered whether the children had been reading “sentimental tommy,” for these were the initials and the methods of mr. barrie’s luckless hero, but the age and genial contempt for scholarship of the investing forces made this unlikely. on the fourth day, finding one of the band momentarily separated from her comrades, i ventured a coup d’etat. pointing to the letters on her secret button, i remarked, “i see you belong to the teapot society.”

“i don’t” she said indignantly; “it’s the terror society i belong to.”

the secret was out, but i thought it wiser to conceal my triumph. evidently, however, my discovery troubled the band, for next morning i received a soi-disant anonymous letter of caution signed in full by all the members. i felt that the moment had arrived for definite action, especially as the cat who honours my house with his presence, and whose summer morning p. 155basking-place is in the front garden, had been much upset by this recurrent invasion of his privacy. i wrote a humble letter to the society, apologising for my crimes and begging that i might be allowed to become a member, and placed it outside on the path. five minutes later two very unembarrassed children appeared in my study, and introduced themselves as captain and secretary of the terror society.

the captain was very frank with me.

“of course, we didn’t really want to frighten you,” she said, “but we had to get you to become a member somehow or other.”

“but i’m afraid i’m not much good at conspiracies,” i said modestly.

“oh, that doesn’t matter,” the captain answered kindly. “you can be honourable treasurer. you know we want a lot of things for our house.”

i began to see what part i had in the scheme of things. “what are the rules of the society?” i asked in all innocence, and thereby flung the secretary into confusion.

“you see, she wrote them out,” the captain p. 156explained, “and she doesn’t want you to read them because of the spelling. but they’re only make-up rules, so you needn’t bother about them. don’t you want to see the house?”

“captain,” i said firmly, “it is my one wish. lead on!”

“you ought really to be blindfolded,” the captain whispered to me as we went along, “but i used my handkerchief to wrap up some of cook’s toffee this morning, and it’s rather sticky.”

“don’t apologise,” i murmured hastily; “i don’t mind not being blindfolded a bit. besides, i’m practically a member, and you mustn’t blindfold members; it isn’t done.”

the captain seemed relieved. “i knew you would make a good treasurer,” she said with cheerful inconsequence. “but, look! there’s the house.”

the headquarters or club-house of the terror society stood beside the allotment gardens at the top of the hill, and may, at some less honourable period of its history, have served as a place for storing tools. in the course of their trespassings the p. 157children had found it lying empty, and had obtained permission from the landlord to have it for their very own. i have implied that the feminine element was predominant in the society, and, recalling the wigwams and log huts of my own childhood, the difference between the ideals of boys and girls was sharply brought home to me when i crossed the threshold. the walls were papered with sentimental pictures out of christmas numbers and literally draped with curtains; there were vases filled with flowers in every corner, and in the middle of this boudoir three of the members were drinking tea. in a sense, perhaps, the girls were to be commended for finding the true romance in domesticity, but i could not help wondering what captain shark of the barque rapacious, that faithful friend of my boyhood, would have thought of a terror society run on such principles. however, i saw that the eyes of the members were upon me, and i hastened to do my duty as an honourable member. “it’s wonderful,” i said. “how on earth did you manage to do it all yourselves?”

p. 158the children all fell to apportioning the credit—all, that is, save the captain, who seemed to me a very businesslike fellow.

“you see, mr. treasurer,” she said, “we want some more of those camp-stools and a lock to keep out burglars, and some knives and forks, and a tin of biscuits and a pail and candles and a candlestick and a clothes-brush and a little bell to ring at dinner-time and a knocker for the door.”

fortunately she paused to take breath.

“my dear captain,” i interrupted quickly, “i have a sovereign in the savings-bank, and if you come with me to-morrow we’ll draw it out, and do the best we can with the money. but tell me, am i really a member?”

“of course you are!”

“then where’s my mysterious button?”

the captain frowned. “jessie will have to paint you one, but the ribbon costs a penny.”

“that makes twenty shillings and a penny,” said the secretary. it was indeed a businesslike society.

the next day the captain and i did a lot p. 159of miscellaneous shopping, and two days later the button was left at my door by a small boy. then for a fortnight i heard nothing of the society or its members, and no sinister invasion of the morning occurred to disturb the far peace in the eyes of my cat. at last i met the captain in the road, and though she endeavoured to elude me, i succeeded in getting her into a corner.

“well, captain,” i said, “how’s the terror society?”

the captain looked gloomy. “haven’t you heard?” she said. “the terror society is all over.”

“finished already!” i cried in astonishment. “why, what have you done with the house?”

“it has been given to another society,” she said without a blush.

“another society?”

“yes, the horror society. i am captain.”

i considered this news for a moment. “well, i suppose i’m a member of the new society?” i ventured.

the captain shook her head sadly. “i’m p. 160so sorry,” she said, “but the h. s. has a rule that no grown-ups are admitted!”

that is why, though i myself was a member of the terror society, i yet feel myself at liberty to write about it. for as on inquiry i discovered that the ranks of the horror society differed in no wise from those of the terror society save for the exclusion of the honourable treasurer, i cannot help feeling that i have been rather badly treated.