e a lot about Miss Boye,
among other things that she was appearing in the revue at the Regent
Theatre known as "Kiss Me Quick," that she never ate suppers, that she
took a warm bath every morning, and liked coffee, bacon and eggs and
strawberry jam for breakfast.

"You'll be very quiet, miss, in the flat, won't you?" he whispered.

"Sure," replied Miss Boye.

"They're such a funny lot 'ere," he explained. "If a fly wakes up too
early, or a bird 'as a nightmare, they comes down an' complains next
mornin'."

Miss Boye laughed.

"'Ush! miss, please," whispered Bindle as he switched on the electric
light in the hall of Number Six.

Bindle showed the new tenant the sitting-room, bathroom, kitchen, and
finally her own bedroom.

"You will be quiet, miss, won't you?" Bindle interrogated anxiously,
"or you may wake Oscar?"

"Who's Oscar?" queried Miss Boye.

"You'll see 'im in the mornin', miss," replied Bindle with a grin.
"Good night, miss."

"Good night, Mr. Porter," smiled Miss Boye, and she closed the door.

"Now I wonder if anythink will 'appen before Ole Whiskers gets up in
the mornin'," mused Bindle as he descended the stairs to his room.

CHAPTER X

THE DOWNFALL OF MR. JABEZ STIFFSON

I

The next morning Bindle let Mrs. Sedge in at her usual time, seven
o'clock.

"Now mind, mother," he said, "four eggs and plenty o' bacon an'
coffee, Number Six 'as got a appetite; 'ad no supper, pore gal."

Mrs. Sedge grunted. Kilburn Cemetery had a depressing effect upon her.

"I'll take it up myself," remarked Bindle casually.

Mrs. Sedge eyed him deliberately.

"She's pretty, then," she said. "Ain't you men jest all alike!" She
proceeded to shake her head in hopeless despair.

Bindle stood watching her as she descended to the Harts' kitchen.

"She's got an 'ead-piece on 'er, 'as ole Sedgy," he muttered. "Fancy
'er a-tumblin' to it like that, an' 'er still 'alf full o' Royal
Richard."

Having prepared and eaten his own breakfast, Bindle sat down and
waited. At five minutes past nine he rose.

"It's time Oscar an' Ole Whiskers was up an' doin'," he murmured as he
stood in front of the dingy looking-glass over the fireplace. "Joe
Bindle, there's a-goin' to be rare doin's in Number Six to-day, and it
may mean that you'll lose your job, you ole reprobate."

At the head of the stairs of the second floor Bindle stopped as if he
had been shot.

"'Old me, 'Orace!" he muttered. "If it ain't 'er!"