"Thursday morning found us again on our way to Stonecutter Street, and as
we turned into it we were aware of three gentlemen regarding us
affectionately from beneath the shelter of a ladder on the off-side of
Farringdon Street. 'That's Simmons,' quoth Mr. Bradlaugh, as we went in,
and I shook my head solemnly, regarding 'Simmons' as the unsubstantial
shadow of a dream. But as the two Misses Bradlaugh and myself reached the
room above the shop, a gay--'I told you so', from Mr. Bradlaugh
downstairs, announced a visit, and in another moment Mr. Bradlaugh came
up, followed by the three unknown. 'You know what we have come for,' said
the one in front; and no one disputed his assertion. Detective-Sergeant
R. Outram was the head officer, and he produced his warrant at Mr.
Bradlaugh's request; he was accompanied by two detective officers,
Messrs. Simmons and Williams. He was armed also with a search warrant, a
most useful document, seeing that the last copy of the edition (of 5,000
copies) had been sold on the morning of the previous day, and a high pile
of orders was accumulating downstairs, orders which we were unable to
fulfil. Mr. Bradlaugh told him, with a twinkle in his eye, that he was
too late, but offered him every facility for searching. A large packet of
'Text Books'--left for that purpose by Norrish, if the truth were known--
whose covers were the same color as those of the 'Fruits', attracted Mr.
Outram's attention, and he took off some of the brown paper wrapper, but
found the goods unseizable. He took one copy of the 'Cause of Woman', by
Ben Elmy, and wandered up and down the house seeking for goods to devour,
but found nothing to reward him for his energy. Meanwhile we wrote a few
telegrams and a note or two, and after about half-an-hour's delay, we
started for the police-station in Bridewell Place, arriving there at
10.25. The officers, who showed us every courtesy and kindness consistent
with the due execution of their duty, allowed Mr. Bradlaugh and myself to
walk on in front, and they followed us across the roar of Fleet Street,
down past Ludgate Hill Station, to the Police Office. Here we passed into