e was followed by a harassed-face
sub-manager, who waited uneasily a few yards off.

"Christopher, I shall have to stay here an hour or two. You had better
go back. You can catch the 12.40 at the station. Fulner will see you
there."

He nodded to the engineer and strode off towards the main offices.

The sub-manager exchanged a look of consternation with Fulner before
he followed.

"We'll go this way," said Fulner, leading Christopher to a new corner
of the great enclosure, "that is, if you don't mind walking."

He did not speak again until they were outside the high walls that
surrounded the works, then he looked quizzically at Christopher.

"You shall see where they live if you wish to," he said, "the contrast
is not striking--only there is no organisation outside."

They went down a black cindery road between high walls and presently
the guide said quietly, "Are you coming here to us, Mr. Aston?"

"No." Christopher's voice was fervent with thankfulness.

The other looked disappointed and stopped.

"I'm sorry," he said. "We thought you were. There were rumours"--he
hesitated, "if you are not coming perhaps it is no good showing you.
It makes a difference."

"I want to see where the people live," insisted Christopher, looking
him squarely in the face.

The other nodded and they went on and came to a narrow street of
mean, two-storied houses, with cracked walls and warped door-posts,
blackened with smoke, begrimed with dirt. As much of the spring
sunshine as struggled through the haze overshadowing the place served
but to emphasise the hideous squalor of it. Children, for the most
part sturdy-limbed and well-developed, swarmed in the road, women in a
more or less dishevelled condition stared out of open doors at them as
they passed.

To the secret surprise of Fulner his companion made no remark,
betrayed no sign of disgust or distaste. He looked at it all; his face
was grave and impassive and Fulner was again disappointed.

They passed a glaring new public house, the only spot in the
neighbourhood where the sun could find anything to reflect his clouded
brightness.

"We wanted that corner for a club," said Fulner bitterly, "but the
brewer outbid us."

"Who's the landlord?" demanded Christopher sharply.

Fulner paused a moment before he answered.

"You are a cousin of Mr. Masters, aren't you?"

"No relation at all. Is he the landlord?"

"The land here is all his. Not what is on it."

A woman w