What were the two gentlemen like?" Kelson asked.

"How could I tell?" the man moaned. "I couldn't see their faces any
more than I can see yours--but they talked like you. Twang--twang--
twang--all through their noses."

"Sounds as if it might be Hamar and Curtis," Kelson remarked.

"That's it!" the man ejaculated. "'Amar. I heard the other fellow call
him by that name."

"How long ago is it since they were here?" Kelson asked.

"I can't say, perhaps ten minutes. I've lost count of time and
everything else, since I've slept out here. They talked of going to
the Serpentine."

"We had better try and find them," Kelson said.

"If you had the money couldn't you get shelter for the night," Lilian
Rosenberg said. "It must be awful to lie out here in the cold, feeling
ill and hungry."

"I dare say some place would take me in," the man muttered, "only I
couldn't walk--at least no distance."

"Well! here's five shillings," Lilian Rosenberg said, "put it
somewhere safe--and try and hobble to the gates. If they haven't
closed them, you will be all right."

"Five shillings!" the man gasped; "that's--it's no good--I can't
count. I've no head now. Thank you, missy! God bless you. I'll get
something hot--something to stifle the pain." He struggled on to his
knees, and Lilian Rosenberg helped him to rise.

"How could you be so foolish as to touch him," Kelson said, as they
started off down a path, they hoped would take them to the Serpentine.
"You may depend upon it, he was swarming with vermin--tramps always
are."

"Very probably, but I run just as much risk in a 'bus, the twopenny
tube, or a cinematograph show. Besides, I can't see a human being
helpless without offering help. Listen! there's some one else
groaning! The Park is full of groans."

What she said was true--the Park was full of groans. From every
direction, borne to them by the gently rustling wind, came the groans
of countless suffering outcasts--legions of homeless, starving men
and women. Some lay right out in the open on their backs, others
under cover of the trees, others again on the seats. They lay
everywhere--these shattered, tattered, battered wrecks of
humanity--these gangrened exiles from society, to whom no one ever
spoke; whom no one ever looked at; whom no one would even own that
they had seen; whose lot in life not even a stray cat envied. Here
were two of them--a man and a woman tightly hugged in each other's
embrace--not for love--but for