hundred pounds. Is my salary paid in advance?"

"No, that is out of the question in a province where cholera carries a
man off in a couple of hours. I am sorry about the passage; at one
time we did pay, but now we have to pinch and consider our expenses.
No doubt you would like to talk over the matter with your people?"

"Well, yes, I should, thank you," he answered, staring fixedly at the
floor.

"Then let me have your decision before mail day. I may tell you,
Shafto, that, irrespective of Mr. Tremenheere's interest, you have
given us entire satisfaction, and for this chance, and it _is_ a
chance, you have only yourself to thank. You can take a couple of
days' leave and let me hear from you definitely on Friday morning."

It was only eleven o'clock, an oppressively warm July day, and Douglas
walked up to Lincoln's Inn Fields, took a seat in the cool shade of the
finest trees in the largest square in London, and there endeavoured to
think out some plan.

"I say, what a chance!" he muttered to himself. "What a stroke of
luck! A new start in life, offering change and freedom." Yet he must
lose it--and all for a paltry hundred pounds. Paltry--no; to him it
represented a huge and unattainable fortune; there wasn't a soul from
whom he could borrow; not from the Tebbs, nor the Tremenheeres, and his
associates at "Malahide" were, with one detestable exception, as poor
as himself. After long meditation, entirely barren of inspiration, he
went down to the Strand and lunched at Slater's, and then took the Tube
to Bayswater Public Library, where he got hold of some books on