It's Thursday morning and you know the people come in early.

Lord, what a guy you look!" Very slowly and very reluctantly Burton made his way through the gloomy warehouse and into the salesrooms, which were approached from the street by a separate entrance.

He knew exactly what was before him and he realized that it must be the end.

Mr.Waddington, who had not yet mounted the rostrum, saw him come in, stared at him for several moments in his gray clothes and Homburg hat, and turned away to spit upon the floor.

A woman with a catalogue in her hand--evidently an intending purchaser--gripped Burton by the arm.
"I say, mister, you're the auctioneer's clerk, aren't you ?" "I am," he admitted.
"About that h'oil painting, now--the one of Gladstone.