“I was knocked down and robbed on a country road.”
“Lose much?”
“Everything.”
“Drinking?”
“No, sir.”
“Familiar with prehistoric geological strata?” Anthony admitted that he was not.
“I had hoped,” the other murmured, “to get a driver who could assist me with my indices.” He renewed his close inspection, then, “Elemental,” he pronounced suddenly; “I'll take you.”
“Five dollars, please,” interpolated the clerk. Outside his new employer took Anthony by the shoulder, glancing over his suit. “You can get your things, and then go out to my house.”
“I can go sooner than that,” Anthony corrected him. “I have no things.”
“Nothing but those clothes! Why... they will hardly do, will they? You must get something, take it out of your salary. But, hang it, a man must have a change of clothes! You must allow me—you are only a boy. I'll come along; no—impossible.” He took a long wallet from his pocket and placed it in Anthony's hands. “I don't know what such things cost,” he said. “I think there's enough; get what you need. I must be off... Mousterian deposits. Customs House.” Before Anthony could reply he had started away in a long, quick stride, but he stopped short. “My address,” he cried, “clean forgot.” He gave Anthony a street and number.