and boards of
directors, and consequently lacked the paternal touch which made the
Cosmopolis what it was. At other hotels things went wrong, and clients
complained. At the Cosmopolis things never went wrong, because he was
on the spot to see that they didn't, and as a result clients never
complained. Yet here was this long, thin, string-bean of an Englishman
actually registering annoyance and dissatisfaction before his very eyes.

"What is your complaint?" he enquired frigidly.

Archie attached himself to the top button of Mr. Brewster's coat,
and was immediately dislodged by an irritable jerk of the other's
substantial body.

"Listen, old thing! I came over to this country to nose about in search
of a job, because there doesn't seem what you might call a general
demand for my services in England. Directly I was demobbed, the family
started talking about the Land of Opportunity and shot me on to a liner.
The idea was that I might get hold of something in America--"

He got hold of Mr. Brewster's coat-button, and was again shaken off.

"Between ourselves, I've never done anything much in England, and I
fancy the family were getting a bit fed. At any rate, they sent me over
here--"

Mr. Brewster disentangled himself for the third time.

"I would prefer to postpone the story of your life," he said coldly,
"and be informed what is your specific complaint against the Hotel
Cosmopolis."

"Of course, yes. The jolly old hotel. I'm coming to that. Well, it was
like this. A chappie on the boat told me that this was the best place to
stop at in New York--"

"He was quite right," said Mr. Brewster.

"Was he, by Jove! Well, all I can say, then, is that the other New York
hotels must be pretty mouldy, if this is the best of the lot! I took a
room here last night," said Archie quivering with self-pity, "and there
was a beastly tap outside somewhere which went drip-drip-drip all night
and kept me awake."

Mr. Brewster's annoyance deepened. He felt that a chink had been found
in his armour. Not even the most paternal hotel-proprietor can keep an
eye on every tap in his establishment.

"Drip-drip-drip!" repeated Archie firmly. "And I put my boots outside
the door when I went to bed, and this morning they hadn't been touched.
I give you my solemn word! Not touched."

"Naturally," said Mr. Brewster. "My employes are honest"

"But I wanted them cleaned, dash it!"

"There is a shoe-shining parlour in the basement. At the