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He asked questions concerning them and received vague answers, and a new machine was offered for inspection. Fulner, the young engineer who had been told off to show him round, understood what was expected of him and did his duty.
"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."
"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."
He was followed by a harassed-face sub-manager, who waited uneasily a few yards off. "Christopher, I shall have to stay here an hour or two. You had better go back. You can catch the 12.40 at the station. Fulner will see you there." He nodded to the engineer and strode off towards the main offices. The sub-manager exchanged a look of consternation with Fulner before he followed.
These people earn fortunes beside those I have known, but in all London I've never seen anything so horrible as this, nothing so hideous, sordid " he stopped with a gasp, "the women the children the lost desire the ugliness." They walked on silently. Presently he spoke again. "You are a plucky man, Mr. Fulner. I couldn't face it." "I've no choice.
Fulner looked at Christopher again and apparently came to a decision. "It is difficult, sometimes, this housing question," he said swiftly, "are you really interested?" "Yes, I want to know what contrast they get to this. It's overpowering, this place." "If there was time " began the other, and stopped, seeing Mr. Masters was approaching.
Christopher asked, and as they walked he began to speak slowly and hesitatingly, as one who must choose from words that were on the verge of overflowing. "I was brought up in Lambeth, Mr. Fulner. I am used to poverty and bad sights. Don't go on thinking I don't care.
They've been complaining about the coal supply at headquarters. Mr. Masters caught Jim Lawrie at it to-day as we left the big engine-room." "Is it a first offence?" "There's no first offence here," returned Fulner grimly. "There's one only. There's the club room. We have to pay £20 a year rent for the ground and then to keep it going." "But surely, Mr. Masters " began Christopher and stopped.
When he answered it was in his old deliberate manner, as he had answered Fulner as he would invariably answer when he mistrusted his own judgment. "If I told you my objections you would not care for them or understand them. You would think them folly. I won't defend them. I won't offer them. It is just impossible, but I thank you."
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.
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