ew phase. He wished the manager had not
chosen this week-end for a trip to Brighton.

The eyes of the deputy-manager roved round him like those of a trapped
animal seeking some channel of escape. By a lucky chance they fell
upon the fireman who was just preparing to go off duty. The
deputy-manager beckoned to him; the smile had left his face, he was now
talking to a subordinate.

"What's the meaning of this?" he enquired.

The fireman looked up and down the corridor. He had been at the hotel
over ten years, that is, since its opening, and knew every inch of the
place. From the crowd of figures he glanced along the corridor. He
was a man of few words.

"Somebody's been 'avin' a joke. The numbers 'ave all been changed.
That," pointing to No. 18, "is No. 15, and that," pointing to No. 24,
"is No. 21."

At the fireman's words angry murmurs and looks were exchanged. Each of
the guests suspected the others of the joke. The fireman, who was a
man of much resource as well as of few words, quickly solved the
problem by obtaining some envelopes and putting on the doors the right
numbers. Within a quarter of an hour every guest had found either his
clothes, his lost one, or both, and the corridor was once more deserted.

"Well," murmured Bindle, as he stepped out of the service lift, "I
s'pose they won't be wantin' me again, so I'll go 'ome an' get a bit o'
sleep." And he walked off whistling gaily, whilst the fireman searched
everywhere for the one man the deputy-manager most desired to see.

II

On the Monday evening following the hotel episode Mr. and Mrs. Bindle
were seated at supper. Bindle had been unusually conversational. He
was fortunate in having that morning obtained employment at a
well-known stores. He was once more a pantechnicon-man. "King Richard
is 'isself again," he would say, when he passed from a temporary alien
employment to what he called the "legitimate."

He had felt it desirable to explain to Mrs. Bindle the cause of his
leaving the Splendid Hotel. She had seen nothing at all humorous in
it, and Bindle had studiously refrained from any mention of women being
in the corridors.

He had just drawn away from the table, and was sitting smoking his pipe
by the fire, when there was a loud knock at the outer door. He looked
up expectantly.

Mrs. Bindle went to the door. From the passage he heard a familiar
voice enquiring for him. It was Sanders, the foreman, who followed
Mrs. Bi