She turned round to Brooks, and disclosed a most alarming rent in her gown.

“Look ’ere, guv’nor,” she said, “that’s my name, and I ’as a back room behind old Connel’s fish-shop next door but one to ’ere.  If yer want to give away things to them as wants ’em, wot price a new skirt ’ere, eh?”

A woman from the rear leaned over to Brooks.

“The ’ussy,” she said.  “Don’t you take no notice of ’er, sir.  We all knows ’er—­and precious little good there is ter know.”

Miss Hardinge was not unreasonably annoyed.  She turned round with flashing eyes and belligerent attitude.

“Who the ’ell asked you anything?” she exclaimed.  “Can’t yer keep your bloomin’ mouths closed?”

A pale-faced little man pushed his way through the throng.  He was dressed in a semi-clerical garb, and he tapped Brooks on the shoulder.

“Can you favour me with one moment’s private conversation, sir?” he said.  “My name is John Deeling, and I am a minister of the Gospel.  The Mission House in Fennell Street is my special charge.”

“Glad to know you, Mr. Deeling,” Brooks answered, “but I can’t spare any time for private conversation now.  Can’t you speak to me here?”

Mr. Deeling looked doubtfully at the girl who stood still before the desk, silent, but breathing hard.  A sullen shade had fallen upon her face.  She looked like a creature at bay.

“It is concerning-this unfortunate young person.”

“I can assure you,” Brooks said, dipping his pen in the ink, “that no recommendation is necessary.  I shall do what I can for her.”

“You misapprehend me, sir,” Mr. Deeling said, with some solemnity.  “I regret to say that no recommendation is possible.  That young person is outside the pale of all Christian help.  I regret to speak so plainly before ladies, sir, but she is a notorious character, a hardened and incurable prostitute.”

Brooks looked at him for a moment fixedly.

“Did I understand you to say, sir, that you were a minister of the Gospel?” he asked.

“Certainly!  I am well known in the neighbourhood.”

“Then if you take my advice,” Brooks said, sternly, “you will take off those garments and break stones upon the street.  It is to help such unfortunate and cruelly ill-used young women as this that I and my friends have come here.  Be off, sir.  Miss Hardinge, this young lady will take you to our clothes store in the inner room there.  I hope you will permit us to be of some further use to you later on.”

The girl, half dazed, passed away.  Mr. Deeling, his face red with anger, turned towards the door.

“You may call it a Christian deed, sir,” he exclaimed, angrily, “to encourage vice of the worst description.  We shall see what the bishop, what the Press, have to say about it.”