her up some coal."

Ten minutes later Bindle surprised "Queenie" by appearing at the door
of Number Eight with a pailful of coal. She stared at him in surprise.
Bindle grinned.

"'Ere you are, Queenie," he said cheerfully. "Now you'll be able to go
to sleep with a bit in each 'and, an' maybe there'll be a bit over to
put in your mouth."

"Look 'ere, don't you go callin' me 'Queenie'; that ain't my name, so
there," and the girl banged the door in his face.

"She'll grow up jest like Mrs. B.," murmured Bindle, as he slowly
descended the stairs, "an' p'raps she can't even cook. I wonder if
she's religious. Sort o' zoo this 'ere little 'ole. Shouldn't be
surprised if things was to 'appen before Ole Charlie gets 'ome again!"
and Bindle returned to his lodge, where, removing his boots and
throwing off his coat, he lay down on the couch that served as a bed
for the porter at Fulham Square Mansions.

During the next two days Bindle discovered that his duties were
endless. Everybody seemed to want something, or have some complaint to
make. He was expected to be always at his post, night and day, and if
he were not, he was threatened with a possible complaint to the
Secretary of the Company to which the flats belonged.

Bindle's fertile brain, however, was not long in devising a means of
relieving the monotony without compromising "pore Ole Charlie." He
sent home for his special constable's uniform, although he had
obtained a fortnight's leave on account of his work. Henceforth,
whenever he required relaxation, he donned his official garb, which he
found a sure defence against all complaints.

"Well, Queenie," he remarked one evening to the maid at Number Eight,
"I'm orf to catch the robbers wot might carry you away."

"I can see you catchin' a man," snorted the girl scornfully.

"Sorry I can't return the compliment, little love-bird," retorted
Bindle. "S'long!"

"Queenie" had found her match.

II

"You--er--have a furnished--er--flat to let."

Bindle looked up from the paper he was reading.

A timid, mouse-like little man with side-whiskers and a deprecating
manner stood on the threshold.

"Come in, sir," said Bindle heartily; "but I'm afraid it's let."

"But the board's up," replied the applicant.

Bindle rose, walked to the outer door, and there saw the notice-board
announcing that a furnished-flat was to let.

"Funny me not noticin' that," he murmured to himself, as he returned
to the porter's lodge