ith the result that the
lift stopped halfway between the two floors.

Bindle and Number Seven shouted down instructions; but without avail.
The lift had stuck fast. Mrs. Stiffson shrieked for help, shrieked for
the police, and shrieked for vengeance.

"Damned old tiger-cat!" cried Number Seven. "Leave her where she is."

Bindle turned upon him a face radiating smiles.

"Them's the best words I've 'eard from you yet, sir"; and he walked
upstairs to reassure the occupants of Number Six that fate and the
lift had joined the Entente against Mrs. Stiffson.

It was four hours before Mrs. Stiffson was free; but Mr. Stiffson, his
luggage, his thermos flask and Oscar had fled. Cissie Boye was at
rehearsal and Bindle had donned his uniform. It was a chastened Mrs.
Stiffson who wheeled out of the lift and enquired for her husband, and
it was a stern and official Bindle who told her that Mr. Stiffson had
gone, and warned her that any further attempt at disturbing the
cloistral peace of Fulham Square Mansions would end in a prosecution
for disorderly conduct.

And Mrs. Stiffson departed in search of her husband.

CHAPTER XI

THE CAMOUFLAGING OF MR. GUPPERDUCK

I

"Ah!" cried Bindle as he pushed open one of the swing doors of the
public bar of The Yellow Ostrich. "I thought I should find my little
sunflower 'ere," and he grasped the hand that Ginger did not extend to
him. Demonstration was not Ginger's strong point.

The members of the informal club that used to meet each Friday night
at The Scarlet Horse had become very uncertain in their attendance,
and the consequent diminution in the consumption of liquor had caused
the landlord to withdraw the concession of a private-room.

Bindle had accepted the situation philosophically; but Ruddy Bill had
shown temper. In the public bar he had told the landlord what he
thought of him, finishing up a really inspired piece of decorated
rhetoric with "Yus, it's The Scarlet 'Orse all right; but there's a
ruddy donkey behind the bar," and with that he had marched out.

From that date Bindle's leisure moments had been mostly spent in the
bar of The Yellow Ostrich. It was here that Ginger, when free from his
military duties, would seek Bindle and the two or three congenial
spirits that gathered round him. Wilkes would cough, Huggles grin, and
Ginger spit vindictive disapproval of everyone and everything, whilst
"Ole Joe told the tale."

"There are times," remarked Bindle,