wn to take a spoonful. The liquid
sprayed his face. He looked up surprised, not having seen the cause.
He who had lost the monocle began searching about in a short-sighted
manner for his lost property.

The cork, continuing on its way, took full in the right eye a customer
of gigantic proportions. He dropped his knife and fork and roared with
pain. Bindle watched the course of the cork in amazement, holding the
bottle as a fireman does the nozzle of a hose. From the neck squirted
a stream of white foam, catching the lady of the white boots, rouge
and peroxide full in the face. She screamed.

"You damn fool!" yelled the man to Bindle.

In his amazement Bindle turned suddenly to see from what quarter this
rebuke had come, and the wine caught the man just beneath the chin.
Never had champagne behaved so in the whole history of Napolini's. A
superintendent rushed up and, with marvellous presence of mind, seized
a napkin and stopped the stream. Then he snatched the bottle from
Bindle's hands, at the same time calling down curses upon his head for
his stupidity.

The lady in white boots, rouge and peroxide was gasping and dabbing
her face with a napkin, which was now a study in pink and white. Her
escort was feeling the limpness of his collar and endeavouring to
detach his shirt from his chest. The gentleman who had lost his
monocle was explaining to the owner of the soup what had happened, and
asking permission to fish for the missing crystal that was lying
somewhere in the depths of the stranger's mulligatawny.

Bindle was gazing from one to the other in astonishment. "Fancy
champagne be'avin' like that," he muttered. "Might 'ave been a
stone-ginger in 'ot weather."

At that moment the superintendent discovered the wine-cooler full of
hot water. One passionate question he levelled at Bindle, who nodded
cheerfully in reply. Yes, it was he who had put the champagne bottle
in hot water.

This sealed Bindle's fate as a waiter. Determined not to allow him out
of his sight again, the superintendent haled him off to the manager's
room, there to be formally discharged.

"Ah! this is the man," said the manager to an inspector of police with
whom he was engaged in conversation as Bindle and the superintendent
entered.

The inspector took a note-book from his pocket.

"What is your name and address?" he asked of Bindle.

Bindle gave the necessary details, adding, "I'm a special, Fulham
District. Wot's up?"

"You will