"Right-o," said the obliging Mr. Flynn. "Just step in and tell my
landlady I'm 'aving a chat with Bill."

He lit his pipe and sat up in bed smoking until a knock at the front
door at half-past eleven sent him off to sleep again. Mrs. Scutts, who
was sitting downstairs, opened it and admitted her husband.

"All serene?" he inquired. "What are you looking like that for?
What's up?"

He sat quivering with alarm and rage as she told him, and then, mounting
the stairs with a heavy tread, stood gazing in helpless fury at the
slumbering form of Mr. James Flynn.

"Get out o' my bed," he said at last, in a choking voice.

"What, Bill!" said Mr. Flynn, opening his eyes.

"Get out o' my bed," repeated the other. "You've made a nice mess of it
between you. It's a fine thing if a man can't go out for 'arf a pint
without coming home and finding all the riffraff of the neighbourhood in
'is bed."

"'Ow's the pore back, Bill?" inquired Mr. Flynn, with tenderness.

Mr. Scutts gurgled at him. "Outside!" he said as soon as he could get
his breath.

"Bill," said the voice of Mrs. Scutts, outside the door.

"Halloa," growled her husband.

"He mustn't go," said Mrs. Scutts. "Those gentlemen are coming again,
and they think he is you."

"WHAT!" roared the infuriated Mr. Scutts.

"Don't you see? It's me what's got the pore back now, Bill," said Mr.
Flynn. "You can't pass yourself off as me, Bill; you ain't good-looking
enough."

Mr. Scutts, past speech, raised his clenched fists to the ceiling.

"He'll 'ave to stay in your bed," continued the voice of Mrs. Scutts.
"He's got a good 'art, and I know he'll do it; won't you, Jim?"

Mr. Flynn pondered. "Tell my landlady in the morning that I've took
your back room," he said. "What a fortunit thing it is I'm out o' work.
What are you walking up and down like that for, Bill? Back coming on
agin?"

"Then o' course," pursued the voice of Mrs. Scutts, in meditative
accents, "there's the club doctor and the other gentleman that knows
Bill. They might come at any moment. There's got to be two Bills in
bed, so that if one party comes one Bill can nip into the back room, and
if the other Bill--party, I mean--comes, the other Bill--you know what I
mean!"

Mr. Scutts swore himself faint.

"That's 'ow it is, mate," said Mr. Flynn. "It's no good standing there
saying your little piece of poetry to yourself. Take off your clo'es
and get to bed like a little man. Now!