I went on my voyage of discovery, fired with new hope, and after interminable questioning and considerable doubt and pain, discovered the number he had given me. It did not look at all like a lodging house, and when after repeated pealings at the bell, a man appeared, I learned that it was Baptist Mission.

“It used to be a lodging house twenty years ago,” said the caretaker, mournfully, “but it’s shut up now, and we’re holding service. No, I don’t know anywhere you could get a bed. Sister Etheldreda might tell you, she’s just round the corner.”

But Sister Etheldreda’s domain was bolted and barred, and in despair I held up a woman in the street and asked if she could help me. Time was getting on, and I simply could not face the prospect of a second night in the streets.

“There’s a decent woman who lets lodgings quite close here; you’ll know the house by the green door and the white steps. She doesn’t charge very much and I think you’ll be comfortable.”