oks nearly
dropped his pen.

"What?" he exclaimed.

"Thirty-four, sir. It is four years since I lost my situation."

The man's hair was grey, a little stubbly grey beard was jutting out
from his chin. His eyes were almost lost in deep hollows. Brooks felt
a lump in his throat, and for a moment pretended to be writing busily.
Then he looked up.

"We shall give you a fresh start in life, Edward Owston," he said.
"Follow this gentleman at my left. He will find you clothes and food.
To-morrow you will go to a cottage which belongs to us at Hastings for
one month. Afterwards, if your story is true, we shall find you a
suitable situation--if it is partially true, we shall still find you
something to do. If it is altogether false we cannot help you, for
absolute truth in answering our questions is the only condition we
impose." The man never uttered a word. He went out leaning upon the arm
of one of Brooks' assistants. Another, who was a doctor, after a glance
into the man's face, followed them. When he returned, after about
twenty minutes' absence, he leaned forward and whispered in Brooks' ear
"You'll never have to find a situation for that poor fellow. A month's
about all he's good for." Brooks looked round shocked. "What is
it--drink?" he asked. The doctor shook his head.

"Not a trace of it. Starvation and exhaustion. If I hadn't been with
him just now he'd have been dead before this. He fainted away."

Brooks half closed his eyes.

"It is horrible!" he murmured.

The costermonger was next. Brooks looked around the room and at the
clock.

"Look here," he said. "If I sit here till tomorrow I can't possibly
attend to all of you. I tell you what I'll do. If you others will give
place to those whose cases are really urgent, I'll be here at seven
to-morrow morning till seven at night, and the next day too, if
necessary. It's no good deputing any one else to tell me, because
however many branches we open--and I hope we shall open a great many--I
mean to manage this one myself, and I must know you all personally.
Now are you all agreeable?"

"I am for one," declared the costermonger, moving away from before the
desk. "I ain't in no 'urry. I've 'ad a bit o' bad luck wi' my barrer,
all owing to a plaguing drunken old omnibus-driver, and horl I want is a
bit o' help towards the security. Josh Auk wants it before he'll let me
out a new one. Tomorrow's horl right for me."

"Well, I expect we'll manage that," Brooks rem