walk from the station. It did occur to him that most secretaries of
companies would take a cab under such circumstances and charge it to
"general expenses." But he did not care to spend either the
Corporation's money or his own for so luxurious a purpose, and therefore
gripped his bag manfully and wrestled with it out into the street.

The ten-minutes grew to considerably more than twenty before they both
found themselves in Shy Street. A long, old-fashioned, dismal street it
was, with some shops in the middle, and small offices at either end. No
imposing-looking edifice, chaste in architecture and luxurious in
proportions, stood with open doors to receive its future lord. Reginald
and his bag stumbled up a side staircase to the first floor over a
chemist's shop, where a door with the name "Medlock" loomed before him,
and told him he had come to his journey's end.

Waiting a moment to wipe the perspiration from his face, he turned the
handle and found himself in a large, bare, carpetless room, with a table
and a few chairs in the middle of it, a clock over the chimneypiece, a
few directories piled up in one corner, and a bundle of circulars and
wrappers in another; and a little back room screened off from the
general observation with the word "private" on the door. Such was the
impression formed in Reginald's mind by a single glance round his new
quarters.

In the flutter of his first entrance, however, he entirely overlooked
one important piece of furniture--namely, a small boy with long lank
hair and pale blotched face, who was sitting on a low stool near the
window, greedily devouring the contents of a pink-covered periodical.
This young gentleman, on becoming aware of the presence of a stranger,
crumpled his paper hurriedly into his pocket and rose to his feet.

"What do yer want?" he demanded.

"Is Mr Medlock here?" asked Reginald.

"No fear," replied the boy.

"Has he left any message?"

"Don't know who you are. What's yer name?"

"I'm Mr Cruden, the new secretary."

"Oh, you're 'im, are yer? Yes, you've got to address them there
envellups, and 'e'll be up in the morning."

This was depressing. Reginald's castles in the air were beginning to
tumble about his ears in rapid succession. The bare room he could
excuse, on the ground that the Corporation was only just beginning its
operations. Doubtless the carpet was on order, and was to be delivered
soon. He could even afford not to afflict h