benevolent-looking man, with spectacles and a straggling grey beard,
crossed the gangway close to where Mike was standing. Mike put the
thing to him, as man to man.

'Could you tell me,' he said, 'what I'm supposed to do? I've just
joined the bank.' The benevolent man stopped, and looked at him with a
pair of mild blue eyes. 'I think, perhaps, that your best plan would be
to see the manager,' he said. 'Yes, I should certainly do that. He will
tell you what work you have to do. If you will permit me, I will show
you the way.'

'It's awfully good of you,' said Mike. He felt very grateful. After his
experience of London, it was a pleasant change to find someone who
really seemed to care what happened to him. His heart warmed to the
benevolent man.

'It feels strange to you, perhaps, at first, Mr--'

'Jackson.'

'Mr Jackson. My name is Waller. I have been in the City some time, but
I can still recall my first day. But one shakes down. One shakes down
quite quickly. Here is the manager's room. If you go in, he will tell
you what to do.'

'Thanks awfully,' said Mike.

'Not at all.' He ambled off on the quest which Mike had interrupted,
turning, as he went, to bestow a mild smile of encouragement on the new
arrival. There was something about Mr Waller which reminded Mike