Running towards him was Miss Boye in a white silk wrapper, a white
lace matinee cap, her stockingless feet thrust into dainty slippers.

Bindle eyed her appreciatively.

"Oh, Mr. Porter!" she cried breathlessly, "there's a man in my bath."

"A wot, miss?" enquired Bindle in astonishment.

"A man, I heard him splashing and I peeped in,--I only just peeped,
you know, Mr. Porter,--and there was a funny little man in spectacles
with whiskers. Isn't it lovely!" she cried, clapping her hands
gleefully. "Where could he have come from?"

"Well, personally myself, I shouldn't call 'im lovely," muttered
Bindle. "I s'pose it's only a matter o' taste."

"But where did he come from?" persisted Cissie Boye excitedly.

"'E must 'ave been left be'ind by the other tenant," said Bindle,
grinning widely. "I must see into this. Now you'd better get back,
miss. You mustn't go 'opping about like this, or I'll lose my job."

"Why! Don't I look nice?" asked Miss Boye archly, looking down at
herself.

"That's jest it, miss," said Bindle. "If Number Seven or Number
Eighteen was to see you like that, well, anythink might 'appen. Now
we'll find out about this man wot you think 'as got into your bath."

Followed by Miss Boye, Bindle entered the outer door of Number Six. As
he did so Mr. Stiffson emerged from the bathroom in a faded pink
bath-robe and yellow felt slippers, with a towel over his shoulder and
a sponge in his hand. He gave one startled glance past Bindle at
Cissie Boye and, with a strange noise in his throat, turned and fled
back to the bathroom, bolting the door behind him.

"Isn't he a scream!" gurgled Miss Boye. "Oh, what would Bobbie say?"

Like a decree of fate Bindle marched up to the bathroom door and
knocked imperiously.

"What is it?" inquired Mr. Stiffson in a trembling voice.

"It's me," responded Bindle sternly. "Open the door, sir, _if_ you
please. I can't 'ave you a-frightening this young lady."

"Tell her to go away, and then I'll come out," was the response.

Miss Boye giggled.

"You'd better come out, sir." There was decision in Bindle's voice.

"I'll go into my room," she whispered, "and then I'll come out again,
see?"

Bindle did see, and nodded his head vigorously. Miss Boye disappeared.

"She ain't 'ere now, sir," he said, "so you'd better come out."

The bathroom door was cautiously opened, and Mr. Stiffson looked out
with terror-dilated eyes.

"Is she really----?"

"Of course she is,"