ABSTRACT
Maurice the Censor has been given the unpleasant duty of assessing just what can
and cannot be allowed to be read by the general public. His first job is to look at
some tattily printed magazines. One reads:
In the centre of the cell lay the body of the servant girl in her night dress, and
gloating over this agony stand two ruffians with the cowardly masks of their
dark trade on. She was nearly naked in fact, for much of her scanty covering
had been torn off in the struggle. A vile contraption of iron weights squatted
over her bosom, as it heaved and fought for every breath.
