The sub-manager exchanged a look of consternation with Fulner before he followed. "We'll go this way," said Fulner, leading Christopher to a new corner of the great enclosure, "that is, if you don't mind walking." He did not speak again until they were outside the high walls that surrounded the works, then he looked quizzically at Christopher. "You shall see where they live if you wish to," he said, "the contrast is not striking--only there is no organisation outside." They went down a black cindery road between high walls and presently the guide said quietly, "Are you coming here to us, Mr. Aston?" "No." Christopher's voice was fervent with thankfulness. The other looked disappointed and stopped. "I'm sorry," he said. "We thought you were. There were rumours"--he hesitated, "if you are not coming perhaps it is no good showing you. It makes a difference." "I want to see where the people live," insisted Christopher, looking him squarely in the face. The other nodded and they went on and came to a narrow street of mean, two-storied houses, with cracked walls and warped door-posts, blackened with smoke, begrimed with dirt. As much of the spring sunshine as struggled through the haze overshadowing the place served but to emphasise the hideous squalor of it. Children, for the most part sturdy-limbed and well-developed, swarmed in the road, women in a more or less dishevelled condition stared out of open doors at them as they passed. To the secret surprise of Fulner his companion made no remark, betrayed no sign of disgust or distaste. He looked at it all; his face was grave and impassive and Fulner was again disappointed. They passed a glaring new public house, the only spot in the neighbourhood where the sun could find anything to reflect his clouded brightness. "We wanted that corner for a club," said Fulner bitterly, "but the brewer outbid us." "Who's the landlord?" demanded Christopher sharply. Fulner paused a moment before he answered. "You are a cousin of Mr. Masters, aren't you?" "No relation at all. Is he the landlord?" "The land here is all his. Not what is on it." A woman was coming down the road, a woman in a bright green dress with a dirty lace blouse fastened with a gold brooch. She had turquoise earrings in her ears and rings on her fingers. She stopped Fulner. "Mr. Fulner," she said in a quavering voice, "they say the master's at the works and that Scott's given Jim away to save his own skin. It isn't true, is it?" Fulner looked at her with pity. Christopher liked him better than ever. "I'm afraid it's true, Mrs. Lawrie, but Scott couldn't help himself. Mr. Masters spotted the game when we were in the big engine-room. You go down to the main gate and wait for Jim. Perhaps you'll get him home safe if you take him the short cut, not this way." He nodded his head towards the public house they had passed.