.

"Was you wantin' it for long, sir?" he enquired.

"A month, I think," was the reply; "but three weeks----"

"I'm sorry, sir," began Bindle, then he smacked his leg with such
suddenness that the stranger started back in alarm, his soft felt hat
falling from his head and hanging behind him attached to a hat-guard.

"Now isn't that jest like me!" cried Bindle, his face wreathed in
smiles.

The stranger eyed Bindle nervously, as he fumbled to retrieve his lost
head-gear, looking like a dog endeavouring to ascertain if he still
possessed a tail.

"I was thinkin' of the other one," said Bindle. "Yes; there's Number
Six to let from next Monday."

"What is the rent?" enquired the caller.

Bindle, who had no idea of the rent of furnished flats, decided to
temporise. "I'll go and ask, sir," he said. "Wot was you exactly
wantin', an' about wot figure?"

"Well, a bedroom, bath-room, sitting-room, kitchen and attendance,
would do," was the reply. "I do not want to pay more than three and a
half guineas a week."

"Now ain't that funny!" cried Bindle, and without waiting to explain
what was funny, he picked up the key of Number Six from his desk. "Now
you jest come with me, sir, an' I'll show you the very place you're
wantin'."

Number Six consisted of two bedrooms, a sitting-room, bath-room and
kitchen. Charlie Hart had taken Bindle over it, explaining that Miss
Cissie Boye, who was entering into occupation on the following Monday,
would use only the smaller bedroom with the single bed, therefore the
double-bedded room was to remain locked.

The applicant, who introduced himself as Mr. Jabez Stiffson, expressed
himself as quite satisfied with all he saw, and agreed to enter into
possession on the following Monday afternoon, at a rental of three and
a half guineas a week. He appeared mildly surprised at Bindle waiving
the question of references and a deposit; but agreed that the smaller
bedroom should be kept locked, as containing the owner's personal
possessions. Mrs. Stiffson, he explained, was staying with friends in
the country, their own house being let; but she would join him on the
Tuesday morning.

In the privacy of his own apartment, Bindle rubbed his hands with
glee. "If this ain't goin' to be a little story for the Night Club,"
he murmured, "well, put me down as a Cuthbert."

He persuaded Mrs. Sedge to get both rooms ready, "in case of
accidents," as he expressed it. Bindle foresaw that there might be