taxi to a big central hotel
in the neighbourhood of Regent Street. And as he passed its doors they
closed irrevocably on his past.

The girl at the bureau looked up and smiled. "Good-morning," she said.
"What can I do for you? We are very full."

"Good-morning," he replied. "I expect you are, but my wife is coming up
to town this afternoon, and we have only a few days together. We want to
be as central as possible. Have you a small suite over the week-end?"

"I don't know," she said, and pulled the big book toward her. She
ran a finger down the page. "Four-twenty," she said--"double bedroom,
sitting-room, and bathroom, how would that do?"

"It sounds capital," said Peter. "May I go and see it?"

She turned in her seat, reached for a key, and touched a button. A man
appeared, soundlessly on the thick, rich carpet. "Show this officer
four-twenty, will you?" she said, and turned to someone else. What means
so much to some of us is everyday business to others.

Peter followed across the hall and into a lift. They went up high, got
out in a corridor, took a turn to the right, and stopped before a door
numbered 420. The man opened it. Peter was led into a little hall, with
two doors leading from it. The first room was the sitting-room. It was
charmingly furnished and very cosy, a couple of good prints on the
walls, wide fireplace, a tall standard lamp, some delightfully easy
chairs--all this he took in at a glance. He walked to the window and
looked out. Far below was the great thoroughfare, and beyond a wilderness
of roofs and spires. He stood and gazed at it. London seemed a different,
place up there. He felt remote, and looked again into the street. Its
business rolled on indifferent to him, and unaware. He glanced back into
the snug pretty little room. How easy it all was, how secure! "This is
excellent," he said, "Show me the bedroom."

"This way, sir," said, the man.

The bedroom was large and airy. A pretty light paper covered the walls,
and two beds stood against one of them, side by side. The sun shone in at
the big double windows and fell on the white paint of the woodwork, the
plate-glass tops of the toilet-tables, and the thick cream-coloured
carpet. A door was open on his right. He walked across, and looked in
there too. A tiled bathroom, he saw it was, the clean towels on the
highly polished brass rail heated by steam, the cork-mat against the
wall, the shower, douche, and spray all complete, even the b