I had just become a medical man, but I had not started in practice, and I lived in rooms in Gower Street.  The street has been renumbered since then, but it was in the only house which has a bow-window, upon the left-hand side as you go down from the Metropolitan Station.  A widow named Murchison kept the house at that time, and she had three medical students and one engineer as lodgers.  I occupied the top room, which was the cheapest, but cheap as it was it was more than I could afford.  My small resources were dwindling away, and every week it became more necessary that I should find something to do.  Yet I was very unwilling to go into general practice, for my tastes were all in the direction of science, and especially of zoology, towards which I had always a strong leaning.  I had almost given the fight up and resigned myself to being a medical drudge for life, when the turning-point of my struggles came in a very extraordinary way.

One morning I had picked up the Standard and was glancing over its contents.  There was a complete absence of news, and I was about to toss the paper down again, when my eyes were caught by an advertisement at the head of the personal column.  It was worded in this way: 

“Wanted for one or more days the services of a medical man.  It is essential that he should be a man of strong physique, of steady nerves, and of a resolute nature.  Must be an entomologist—­ coleopterist preferred.  Apply, in person, at 77B, Brook Street.  Application must be made before twelve o’clock today.”

Now, I have already said that I was devoted to zoology.  Of all branches of zoology, the study of insects was the most attractive to me, and of all insects beetles were the species with which I was most familiar.  Butterfly collectors are numerous, but beetles are far more varied, and more accessible in these islands than are butterflies.  It was this fact which had attracted my attention to them, and I had myself made a collection which numbered some hundred varieties.  As to the other requisites of the advertisement, I knew that my nerves could be depended upon, and I had won the weight-throwing competition at the inter-hospital sports.  Clearly, I was the very man for the vacancy.  Within five minutes of my having read the advertisement I was in a cab and on my was to Brook Street.

As I drove, I kept turning the matter over in my head and trying to make a guess as to what sort of employment it could be which needed such curious qualifications.  A strong physique, a resolute nature, a medical training, and a knowledge of beetles—­ what connection could there be between these various requisites?  And then there was the disheartening fact that the situation was not a permanent one, but terminable from day to day, according to the terms of the advertisement.  The more I pondered over it the more unintelligible did it become; but at the end of my meditations I always came back to the ground fact that, come what might, I had nothing to lose, that I was completely at the end of my resources, and that I was ready for any adventure, however desperate, which would put a few honest sovereigns into my pocket.  The man fears to fail who has to pay for his failure, but there was no penalty which Fortune could exact from me.  I was like the gambler with empty pockets, who is still allowed to try his luck with the others.