After a few moments one of the men in fancy dress, whom Mike had seen
hanging about the gangway, and whom he afterwards found to be
messengers, appeared. Mr Bickersdyke looked up.

'Ask Mr Bannister to step this way,' he said.

The messenger disappeared, and presently the door opened again to admit
a shock-headed youth with paper cuff-protectors round his wrists.

'This is Mr Jackson, a new member of the staff. He will take your place
in the postage department. You will go into the cash department, under
Mr Waller. Kindly show him what he has to do.'

Mike followed Mr Bannister out. On the other side of the door the
shock-headed one became communicative.

'Whew!' he said, mopping his brow. 'That's the sort of thing which
gives me the pip. When William came and said old Bick wanted to see me,
I said to him, "William, my boy, my number is up. This is the sack." I
made certain that Rossiter had run me in for something. He's been
waiting for a chance to do it for weeks, only I've been as good as gold
and haven't given it him. I pity you going into the postage. There's
one thing, though. If you can stick it for about a month, you'll get
through all right. Men are always leaving for the East, and then you
get shunted on into another department, and the next new man goes into
the postage. That's the best of this place. It's not like one of those
banks where you stay in London all your life. You only have three years
here, and then you get your orders, and go to one of the branches in
the East, where you're the dickens of a big pot straight away, with a