Braunt and Marsten passed from the dimness of Rose Garden Court into the brilliancy of Light Street, which on certain nights in the week was like one prolonged fair, each side being lined with heaped-up coster’s barrows, radiant with flaring gasoline. Incense was being burned--evil-smelling incense--to the God of Cheapness. Hordes of women, down at the heel, were bargaining with equally impecunious venders--meeting and chaffering on the common level of poverty. Turning into a side street and then into a narrower lane, the two men came to a huge building where the Salvation Army held its services--a building let temporarily to the employees of Monkton & Hope for the discussion of their grievances. The place was crowded to the doors, and the latest comers had some difficulty in making their way along one side of the walls, nearer the front platform, where they at last found room half way between the doors and the speakers. Scimmins was in the chair, looking very uneasy and out of place, not knowing exactly what was expected of him, smiling a wan deprecatory smile occasionally as some of his pals in the crowd made audible remarks about his elevation, and the native dignity he brought to bear on his office. One gave it as his opinion (“if you awsked him”) that Scimmins would have looked more natural with a pint pot in his right hand, instead of the mallet with which he was supposed to keep order. On a row of chairs at the back of the platform sat the members of the committee, looking, most of them, quite as uncomfortable as the chairman. Several reporters were writing at a table provided for them. Sometimes one whispered a question to the chairman or a member of the committee, and received the almost invariable answer, “Blest if I know, arsk Gibbons.” Gibbons was quite palpably the man of the hour. He was on his feet by virtue of his position as chairman of the committee and secretary to the Union, and was just finishing the reading of the committee’s report as Braunt and Marsten found standing-room at the side of the hall. “--And finally your committee begs leave to report that Mr. Sartwell, having rejected all overtures from your committee, refusing to confer with it either through its chairman, or as a body, it was resolved that this report be drawn up and presented to you in order that definite action may be taken upon it.” Gibbons, when he had finished reading the document, placed it upon the reporters’ table for their closer inspection. He had drawn up the report himself and was naturally rather proud of the wording, and he hoped to see it printed in the newspapers. He turned to his audience, after saluting the chairman.