e house detective, who stood as solidly in the middle of the
lobby as if he had taken root somewhere down in the foundations.

"Can I beat what?" asked the house detective frigidly.

My, but he was an angry young man, and he fairly snarled at the
magnificent individual he had collided with:

"Beat a drum, beat an egg, beat around the bush--go as far as you
like--beat your grandmother if you prefer!"

The granite faced house detective was not used to that sort of
treatment; furthermore it distinctly galled him to be asked to beat
his grandmother, whom he recalled as an estimable old lady who made an
odd noise when she ate soup, owing to an absence of teeth.

"What's that you said about my grandmother?" he said, bridling.

"Bother your grandmother," shot back the insolent retort, whereat the
lordly house detective plucked the young man by the arm.

"Staggerin' an' loony talk don't go in the Ritz," he said under his
breath. "You've been havin' too much."

"Preposterous!" exclaimed the young man, vainly endeavoring to shake
his arm free.

"Are you a guest of the house?" demanded the immaculately garbed
minion of the Ritz.

"I am, so kindly remove the pair of pincers you are crushing my arm
with."

"What's your name?"

"I don't know--that is, I've forgotten."

"Now I know you need lookin' after. Come over here to the desk."

The house detective had manifested no more outward passion than a
block of ice, and so adroit was he in marching the young man to the
desk that not an eye in the lobby was attracted to the little scene.

The young man was at first inclined to make a fuss about it and demand
an abject apology for this untoward treatment. The absurdity of his
predicament, however, stirred his sense of humor and he was meekly
docile when his captor arraigned him at the desk and addressed one of
the clerks:

"Do you know this young man, Mr. Horton?"

"Why, yes, Reagan--this is Mr. Smith--why"--

"That's it--Smith!" cried the young man. "How could I ever forget that
name? Thomas Smith, isn't it, Mr. Horton, or is it James?"

"Thomas, of course; at least that's the way you registered, Mr.
Smith--Thomas Smith and valet." The clerk's eyebrows started straight
up his head.

"Thomas Smith, exactly. Now are you satisfied, Mr. House Detective, or
do you want to go up and examine my luggage? Having convinced you that
I am a registered guest, how would you like to have me walk a chalk
line and convince you th