Make a start somewhere. There was one man standing by himself under the arches. Looking very forlorn, but well dressed; he ought to have a few shillings left even if he had had a night on the tiles. Charles sauntered up to him, trying to stop shivering, and halted a couple of yards off. Now get into conversation.

‘Not much doing at this time in the morning,’ he said.

The face that turned towards him was solid, carved with deep lines of responsibility, pouchy eyes staring through rimless glasses. Some provincial business man, doing well, with a comfortable wife and children in a suburban house. Just the type who lined the pockets of the vice racketeers on his business trips to the metropolis.

‘Eh, yer never spoke a truer word. But what can a chap do when ’e finds himself spent up at four in the morning and too late to go to bed anyway?’

‘What indeed?’ Charles murmured.

‘All I can do,’ the other continued positively, ‘is to ’ang about till nine o’clock. There’s a fast train then, and I’ll thank them to get me back ’ome as quick as they like. This is no place to be in.’ He dropped his voice confidentially. ‘There’s a sight too many folks after a man’s munny in this town.’

‘And what’s more, they get it,’ said Charles sympathetically.

‘Get it!’ echoed the pillar of society angrily. ‘I tell you it really ’urts to think of the amount they got out of me since ten o’clock last night. I’ll give yer a piece of advice, yung man. Don’t you take any notice of these fellers as stand on the pavement an’ invite yer into these clubs. Affable as yer please. In town for the night, sir? What about steppin’ into the club? ’Ave a drink. Enjoy yerself. Some nice girls, ’e says. Nice!’ his voice rang out angrily under the windy arches.

‘It’s all experience, I suppose,’ said Charles, feeling this parti­cular line had better be dropped. If the man worked himself into a rage over having been fleeced, he would be less likely to pay handsomely for a smoke when the time came to try it on.

‘Experience!’ said the heavy, bitter voice. ‘I’ll give yer another piece of advice while I’m at it. There’s—some experience,’ he went on emphatically, ‘as just—isn’t—worth—’aving. Not if yer got it for nowt.’

Charles looked at him in pitying contempt. This type, armoured heavily in the smugness of business success, simply could not leave off showering advice on others. The present specimen, dead beat, robbed of his loose cash in the pursuit of disgusting pleasures, loitering with an empty stomach in a ghastly dawn, twitched into sententiousness by a reflex action. It was Tharkles all over again.