really, sir?" enquired Bindle, wondering who Oscar might be.

"The bird, you know," continued Mr. Stiffson, answering Bindle's
unuttered question. "You--you don't think it will be unhygienic for
him to sleep with me?"

"Sure of it, sir," replied Bindle, entirely at a loss as to Mr.
Stiffson's meaning.

Mr. Stiffson sighed his relief and bade Bindle good night, with a
final exhortation as to waking him at eight. "You know," he added, "I
always sleep through air-raids."

Mr. Stiffson's bugbear in life was lest he should over-sleep. He
seldom failed to wake of his own accord; but, constitutionally lacking
in self-reliance, he felt that at any moment he might commit the
unpardonable sin of over-sleeping.

Bindle returned to his room to await the arrival of Miss Cissie Boye.

It was nearly midnight when his alert ear caught the sound of a taxi
drawing up outside. As he opened the outer door, Miss Cissie Boye
appeared at the top of the stone-steps.

Bindle caught a glimpse of a dainty little creature in a long
travelling coat with fur at the collar, cuffs and round the bottom, a
small travelling hat and a thick veil.

"Oh, can you help with my luggage?" she cried.

"Right-o, miss! You go in there and sit by the fire. We'll 'ave things
right in a jiffy;" and Bindle proceeded to tackle Miss Boye's luggage,
which consisted of a large dress-basket, a suit-case and a bundle of
rugs and umbrellas. When these had been placed in the hall, and the
taxi-man paid, Bindle went into his lodge.

Miss Boye was sitting before the fire, her coat thrown open and her
veil thrown back. Between her dainty fingers she held a cigarette.

"So that's that!" she cried. "I'm so tired, Mr. Porter."

Bindle regarded her with admiration. Honey-coloured, fluffy hair, blue
eyes, dark eyebrows and lashes, pretty, petite features, and a manner
that suggested half baby, half woman-of-the-world,--Bindle found her
wholly alluring.

"I'm afraid we can't get that little picnic 'amper of yours upstairs
to-night, miss," he remarked.

Miss Boye laughed. "Isn't it huge?" she cried. "It needn't go up till
the morning. I've all I want in the suit-case."

"You must 'ave a rare lot o' duds, miss," remarked Bindle.

"Duds?" interrogated Miss Boye.

"Clothes, miss," explained Bindle.

Miss Boye laughed lightly. Miss Boye laughed at everything.

"Now I must go to bed. I've got a 'call' to-morrow at eleven."

As they went upstairs, Bindle learnt quit