First Morning

At a quarter past seven on Monday morning, forty-three men were already standing outside the Teucher Industrial Training Institute.

Ernest stood by the tall, double-glazed window of the second-floor director's office, looking down through the thin autumn mist. He held his pocket watch in his left palm.

"Why are they waiting by the gate?" Ernest asked.

The institute superintendent, a mild-mannered former railway technical instructor named Masterson, looked up from his enrollment ledger. "Because the brass clock over the archway says seven-fifteen, Baron. The enrollment doors do not unlock until seven-thirty."

"I am aware of the schedule, Mr. Masterson," Ernest said, his brow creasing slightly. "The notice explicitly stated that arrival was not required before eight o'clock. Why have they stood on cold gravel for forty-five minutes?"

Masterson smiled with patient restraint. "Because they want to be certain their names remain on the ledger, sir."