"Now, Hyde!" interrupted Viner. "Never mind that--you won't starve again.
Come--tell us all about this--tell everything."

Hyde bent forward in his chair, but after a look at the two men, his
eyes sought the floor and moved from one plank to another as if he found
it difficult to find a fixed point.

"I don't know where to begin, Viner," he said at last. "You see, you've
never met me since we left school. I went in for medicine--I was at
Bart's for a time, but--well, I was no good, somehow. And then I went in
for the stage--I've had some fairly decent engagements, both here and in
the States, now and then. But you know what a precarious business that
is. And some time ago I struck a real bad patch, and I've been out of a
job for months. And lately it's gone from bad to worse--you know, or
rather I suppose you don't know, because you've never been in that
fix--pawning everything, and so on, until--well, I haven't had a penny in
my pockets for days now!"

"Your relations?" questioned Viner.

"Didn't want them to know," answered Hyde. "The fact is, I haven't been
on good terms with them for a long time, and I've got some pride
left--or I had, until yesterday. But here's the truth: I had to clear out
of my lodgings--which was nothing but an attic, three days since, and
I've been wandering about, literally hungry and homeless, since that. If
it hadn't been for that, I should never have been in this hole! And
that's due to circumstances that beat me, for I tell you again, I don't
know anything about this man's murder--at least, not about it actually."