helpless victims of a debauched old
age. And now the two social workers were invited into these mysterious
precincts! The news might swell the roster to disconcerting
proportions. They should have to proceed with caution.

"All we want, sir, is a most elementary discussion. Just enough so we
can give the men and women in the Mills some simple facts about
themselves. Then, with that as a starter, we can build up more
intelligently."

"I shall be glad to give you whatever you want. Shall we say Tuesday
next? At eight o'clock? Don't dress, you know. Just come as you are.
This is business," and with another of his sly smiles he moved on down
the street.

When Tom called for Nancy on Tuesday night he found her equipped with
pad and pencils.

"Henry doesn't think too highly of this performance, I may say," she
said, smiling up at him, "but we simply couldn't have let people know
where we are going. They would have swamped the whole thing. I must say
I am a little afraid." She slipped her arm through his, and they hurried
on down Division Street, which connects Tutors' Lane with Whitmanville.
"If he only has chickens, I won't mind, but if he has bats I shall hate
it. I confess I'm a perfect fool about bats. They're loathsome. What
they really are, are hairy rats with wings like web feet, and they have
the most _loathsome_ mouths."

Tom was curiously excited. He felt buoyed up. It was like water-wings,
he told himself. And when he tried afterwards to think of the things he
had said, he could remember nothing except that he had quoted Alice's
perplexity about bats eating cats when she was falling down the well,
and that they had both laughed immoderately.

The Diamond Building, on their arrival, presented a somewhat portentous
picture. A Five, Ten, and Fifteen Cent store dimly showed forth strings
of penny postal cards and piles of dusty candy in its macabre windows.
The second floor was throbbing with the rich life of a poolhall, and as
they passed the Christian Science rooms on the third floor they carried
with them the strains of a therapeutic hymn. And then, at last, they
were before a door which bore over its bell the pencilled legend, H.
Sprig.

They were admitted by a flunkey named Herbert. Herbert's period of
usefulness in the laboratory had terminated with that of the Professor,
and the latter had engaged him as a body servant, not only because of
his proved capacity and loyalty, but because of the unusual sha